My final class of the day yesterday was incredibly restless -- the ones who weren't trying to sleep were talking, attempting to surreptitiously text or, I don't know, play video games under their desks. Finally, one young lady spoke up, asking if there was any way I could make this stuff more interesting.
A dagger to my heart, in any number of ways. I think this stuff is riveting, of course, and more fun than tournament Foosball. More importantly, I think I'm just about as funny and interesting while discussing mathematics as Tom Cruise on the Oprah Show. Apparently my students disagree.
I've had trouble keeping this group's attention, regardless of the flow of the lesson - short groupwork periods punctuated by mini-lessons, long lecture followed by long groupwork, mini-lesson plus directed class discussion... whatever, I can't keep them awake. So the young lady mentioned another teacher's style, and could I give that a try. I spoke to the teacher in question and he's using something called "Power Teaching" by Chris Biffle. I've looked at the videos and, well, it ain't me, babe. That said, I can certainly incorporate a key principle or two of what he's talking about -- (1) micro-lessons (30 seconds or less) (2) active student engagement -- they must participate, and (3) learn, pair, share - after I teach it, they turn and teach it to their neighbor.
Now I gotta figure out how to make that work...
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
Teach-by-Number
MHS is a "turnaround" school, meaning... well, I'm not sure exactly what that means, except that the students have not scored well or improved on the state-mandated tests for the past few years, and thus we're in a special category. There is a miniscule amount of additional money attached to being a turnaround school, like having a full-time English coach rather than half-time. However, there are apparently dozens of additional requirements, including one that requires all teachers of 9th- and 10th-graders to spend "10- to 15-minutes" each class period going over questions of the type that may appear on the State Assessment. These are called "Focus Questions."
[The following couple of paragraphs are an aside, and constitute a rant about how much paper I'm allowed to use. I'm not kidding - I have a paper allotment.] The Focus Question forms are designed to be used as handouts, allowing the kids to mark on them in the same way they'd mark on the State Assessment (e.g., filling in the bubble for the letter of the correct answer and doing "gridded response," which is something I am incapable of describing in less than 600 words). But the forms are typically two pages long, and I have 175 students in 6 classes over two days. So in a week, I would go through over 1000 copies and 500 sheets of paper, even if I copy the form two-sided. I'm presumably alloted 1000 copies per month, so if I do it the way I'm supposed to, I will have gone through my entire allotment in a single week. Even if I'm actually alloted 1000 pieces of paper (rather than copies), I'm done in two weeks.
Of course, I also don't have any textbooks for 145 of those students, so if I want to assign homework, I need to give them a worksheet. Assume I give homework every night, but I manage to squeeze all the questions onto a half-sheet of paper. I'm using another 35 sheets of paper a day, or 750 a month. Want to give a quiz? That's 175 sheets. A test? At least 350 sheets. Semesters are 9 weeks long, and I'm told we should give about 3 tests and maybe 3 quizzes. 1500 sheets of paper over 2 months. Want to send a letter and your syllabus home to the parents? 500 copies on 350 sheets of paper. Hand out your rules and regulations, policies and procedures? Another 350 sheets of paper. In a typical month, I would reasonably go through 5,500 copies (on about 3,000 sheets of paper).
One reasonable solution would be to project the State Assessment form onto the whiteboard using my laptop. Except that we have no LCD projectors for the math department. (There are 24 in the school, but they're all allocated to Reading.) I've tried using overheads, but they can not be seen in the back of the room. So I've been writing the questions on the whiteboard "before" each class. The "before" is in quotes because I typically finish writing the questions at about 5 minutes past the bell. The students, meanwhile, have been milling about in the classroom during this time, waiting to get started. I'd leave them up for the next class (the questions, not the kids), but I don't have enough whiteboard space to do that, largely because all my spare whiteboard space is consumed by the "workshop model" and "standards-based" instruction stuff that must be up and visible in all areas of the room. Why the students need to know we're working on standard A.1.9934.BC.2 "Using geometric forms to... blah, blah, blah..." is something no one has even attempted to explain, but is nonetheless state-mandated for "turnaround" schools.
Anyway, going through the Focus Questions actually takes about 25 minutes, so if you include the extra 5 minutes at the beginning of the period, I'm using 30 of my 90 minutes on ancillary stuff. If I thought it would be helpful, I'd probably be okay with it. But it's truly ancillary -- it bears no connection to what I'm teaching, and I'm not allowed to change it in any way to conform. So these kids, who are already confused by trying to understand the math I'm supposed to be teaching, are now getting bombarded by new stuff that doesn't fit in anywhere. It's inconceivable to me that this isn't just more confusing, rather than helpful. And I can't find anyone who disagrees. (Not that I've been asking anyone else -- in fact, the only questions I've asked about these Focus Questions is how I should present them. Of course, the moment I ask, I get a 10 minute harrangue about how nuts they are.) But tomorrow morning, I'll be at it again, discussing the Focus Questions.
So I've spent a week-and-a-half trying to meet the state and county mandates for word walls, workshop models, Focus Questions, Lesson Plans, etc. Fine. I can live with that. But I'm getting up at 4 in the morning and leaving the school at 4:30 in the afternoon, and in all of that time, I'm spending about 45 minutes each day working on what I'm actually going to teach in my subject area. That can't be good.
[The following couple of paragraphs are an aside, and constitute a rant about how much paper I'm allowed to use. I'm not kidding - I have a paper allotment.] The Focus Question forms are designed to be used as handouts, allowing the kids to mark on them in the same way they'd mark on the State Assessment (e.g., filling in the bubble for the letter of the correct answer and doing "gridded response," which is something I am incapable of describing in less than 600 words). But the forms are typically two pages long, and I have 175 students in 6 classes over two days. So in a week, I would go through over 1000 copies and 500 sheets of paper, even if I copy the form two-sided. I'm presumably alloted 1000 copies per month, so if I do it the way I'm supposed to, I will have gone through my entire allotment in a single week. Even if I'm actually alloted 1000 pieces of paper (rather than copies), I'm done in two weeks.
Of course, I also don't have any textbooks for 145 of those students, so if I want to assign homework, I need to give them a worksheet. Assume I give homework every night, but I manage to squeeze all the questions onto a half-sheet of paper. I'm using another 35 sheets of paper a day, or 750 a month. Want to give a quiz? That's 175 sheets. A test? At least 350 sheets. Semesters are 9 weeks long, and I'm told we should give about 3 tests and maybe 3 quizzes. 1500 sheets of paper over 2 months. Want to send a letter and your syllabus home to the parents? 500 copies on 350 sheets of paper. Hand out your rules and regulations, policies and procedures? Another 350 sheets of paper. In a typical month, I would reasonably go through 5,500 copies (on about 3,000 sheets of paper).
One reasonable solution would be to project the State Assessment form onto the whiteboard using my laptop. Except that we have no LCD projectors for the math department. (There are 24 in the school, but they're all allocated to Reading.) I've tried using overheads, but they can not be seen in the back of the room. So I've been writing the questions on the whiteboard "before" each class. The "before" is in quotes because I typically finish writing the questions at about 5 minutes past the bell. The students, meanwhile, have been milling about in the classroom during this time, waiting to get started. I'd leave them up for the next class (the questions, not the kids), but I don't have enough whiteboard space to do that, largely because all my spare whiteboard space is consumed by the "workshop model" and "standards-based" instruction stuff that must be up and visible in all areas of the room. Why the students need to know we're working on standard A.1.9934.BC.2 "Using geometric forms to... blah, blah, blah..." is something no one has even attempted to explain, but is nonetheless state-mandated for "turnaround" schools.
Anyway, going through the Focus Questions actually takes about 25 minutes, so if you include the extra 5 minutes at the beginning of the period, I'm using 30 of my 90 minutes on ancillary stuff. If I thought it would be helpful, I'd probably be okay with it. But it's truly ancillary -- it bears no connection to what I'm teaching, and I'm not allowed to change it in any way to conform. So these kids, who are already confused by trying to understand the math I'm supposed to be teaching, are now getting bombarded by new stuff that doesn't fit in anywhere. It's inconceivable to me that this isn't just more confusing, rather than helpful. And I can't find anyone who disagrees. (Not that I've been asking anyone else -- in fact, the only questions I've asked about these Focus Questions is how I should present them. Of course, the moment I ask, I get a 10 minute harrangue about how nuts they are.) But tomorrow morning, I'll be at it again, discussing the Focus Questions.
So I've spent a week-and-a-half trying to meet the state and county mandates for word walls, workshop models, Focus Questions, Lesson Plans, etc. Fine. I can live with that. But I'm getting up at 4 in the morning and leaving the school at 4:30 in the afternoon, and in all of that time, I'm spending about 45 minutes each day working on what I'm actually going to teach in my subject area. That can't be good.
Friday, August 28, 2009
Follow Up to Week 1
I was gchatting with my daughter regarding the week that was, and she asked what I'd do about the issues I saw with being a first-time teacher. I'm not sure I know the answer, but here's what I told her. I really just want to get these down so I can think about them if the time ever comes to volunteer to help the newbies -- at least I'll know what I thought I needed then.
1. much, much better orientation program at the school level, with a procedures manual on all the stuff you have to do, forms to complete, issues you need to know about, people you need to know (e.g., the tech guy to set up your computer), etc. [I may have mentioned in this space that I was keeping track of things I wish I'd known about earlier... I was up to about 25 separate items, at last count.]
2. much more formalized mentoring program -- every day or every other day debriefing with your mentor -- "what happened today you weren't expecting; what did you feel you weren't prepared for?" with answers or opinions on what to do.
3. probably (i'd need to think about this) day 1 and day 2 have one administrator or another sit in on your classes and observe start to finish... give you a top to bottom critique (emphasizing the positive, of course) but pointing out what you need to do differently.
Maybe some schools or most schools or even all schools except for MHS do this, but it's for damn sure MHS doesn't. And I don't get the impression any of the teachers here were surprised it wasn't happening, which means it isn't just because of the new administration here.
1. much, much better orientation program at the school level, with a procedures manual on all the stuff you have to do, forms to complete, issues you need to know about, people you need to know (e.g., the tech guy to set up your computer), etc. [I may have mentioned in this space that I was keeping track of things I wish I'd known about earlier... I was up to about 25 separate items, at last count.]
2. much more formalized mentoring program -- every day or every other day debriefing with your mentor -- "what happened today you weren't expecting; what did you feel you weren't prepared for?" with answers or opinions on what to do.
3. probably (i'd need to think about this) day 1 and day 2 have one administrator or another sit in on your classes and observe start to finish... give you a top to bottom critique (emphasizing the positive, of course) but pointing out what you need to do differently.
Maybe some schools or most schools or even all schools except for MHS do this, but it's for damn sure MHS doesn't. And I don't get the impression any of the teachers here were surprised it wasn't happening, which means it isn't just because of the new administration here.
Sidney Poitier I'm Not
Well, I've survived my first week of school. It is very strange to be in a position in which I feel truly incompetent... I'm not sure I've ever been in a job I was less well-prepared for. I have to shoulder some of that blame, but the truth is that no first-time teacher in the world -- especially those who haven't done any student teaching -- could possibly be prepared for the reality of the job. Not that there is anything in the job that is beyond my skill set (I don't think), but that there are a million little things a teacher needs to do and ways he needs to act in order to be able to clear the decks for actual teaching. Plus, there are a million strategies the teacher must have for all of the different teaching situations he will face -- kids who have no math skills but want to work hard, kids who have good math skills but don't want to work at all, kids with good math skills but who don't speak English and thus can't understand what you're saying, kids with bad math skills and bad English skills, kids who are bored and need to be stimulated by more interesting material than is being offered, kids who are bored because the material being taught is too hard and they've tuned out, kids who have good skills but need to digest information slowly, etc., etc., etc., etc., etc... well, you get the picture. That's just relative to student-teacher interaction.
Then there are the unbelievable peripheral requirements -- "word walls" to be updated daily with new vocabulary from the course, "standards-based" charts on the wall to show students what will be covered that day and what State Educational Standard the day's lesson is directed toward, "Workshop Model" charts to show the flow of the instruction (lecture to small group work to class discussion to summary, for example), lesson plans that must conform to a specific format, including a listing of the Standards to be taught, the objective of the day's lesson and essential questions the student should be able to answer at the conclusion of the lesson, forms to be filed for how you are differentiating your instruction for "special needs" students and students who don't speak English, and others I've forgotten in the haze of the past week.
Good teachers, from what I can see, have found ways to implement processes that reduce the time required for the peripheral stuff to a bare minimum -- maybe an hour or two a day. They also have processes and mannerisms and little tricks to keep their classroom running smoothly, reducing the amount of policework they have to do, and dramatically reducing the thought they have to put into how to run the classroom. This frees them up to mostly teach, and some of them are very good at it. Some are less good, but the truth is, the bad teachers are not the ones who can't teach (there aren't many of those), the bad teachers are the ones who can't control the classroom or who can't manage the peripheral stuff so that it doesn't impinge on their ability to put together a good lesson. The great teachers are the ones who manage to get all that done and still find time to add some special flair that ignites a flame in some kid to do more, and accomplish more, than he otherwise would have.
I have a considerable mountain to climb, no single step of which seems particularly difficult, but the whole of which is, at the very least, daunting.
Then there are the unbelievable peripheral requirements -- "word walls" to be updated daily with new vocabulary from the course, "standards-based" charts on the wall to show students what will be covered that day and what State Educational Standard the day's lesson is directed toward, "Workshop Model" charts to show the flow of the instruction (lecture to small group work to class discussion to summary, for example), lesson plans that must conform to a specific format, including a listing of the Standards to be taught, the objective of the day's lesson and essential questions the student should be able to answer at the conclusion of the lesson, forms to be filed for how you are differentiating your instruction for "special needs" students and students who don't speak English, and others I've forgotten in the haze of the past week.
Good teachers, from what I can see, have found ways to implement processes that reduce the time required for the peripheral stuff to a bare minimum -- maybe an hour or two a day. They also have processes and mannerisms and little tricks to keep their classroom running smoothly, reducing the amount of policework they have to do, and dramatically reducing the thought they have to put into how to run the classroom. This frees them up to mostly teach, and some of them are very good at it. Some are less good, but the truth is, the bad teachers are not the ones who can't teach (there aren't many of those), the bad teachers are the ones who can't control the classroom or who can't manage the peripheral stuff so that it doesn't impinge on their ability to put together a good lesson. The great teachers are the ones who manage to get all that done and still find time to add some special flair that ignites a flame in some kid to do more, and accomplish more, than he otherwise would have.
I have a considerable mountain to climb, no single step of which seems particularly difficult, but the whole of which is, at the very least, daunting.
Thursday, August 27, 2009
Reality Bites
It's incredibly hard. And I'm totally exhausted and overwhelmed. I feel as if I'm trying to lay down track in front of a freight train, currently barreling down the track I've already laid. It's about 100 yards behind me, traveling at about 80 miles an hour. Judgment day is coming, and right soon.
I got a classroom visit today from my Assistant Principal, and she didn't say much of anything in the 20 minutes she sat and observed. She then left and went to Ms. CowCulus's room. As noted earlier, Ms. CowCulus is the head of the math department, and is, I am confident, a kindergarten teacher reincarnated as a high school math teacher. She's very good -- she was MHS's teacher of the year recently, but her room is awash in posters and sayings and cutouts and word walls and decorative borders and cute wall hangings that have pockets for the calculators the students use and... and... and... So the AP (that's Assistant Principal to you -- public schools apparently acronym-ize absolutely everything, then change all the acronyms roughly every 4 years, just to keep everyone confused. Remember ESL (English as a Second Language)? Now it's ESOL (English for Speakers of Other Language) and occasionally ELL (English Language Learners). Anyway, the AP says to Ms. CowCulus... "Maybe you could help out Mr. Math Guy. His room needs a little help." For what it's worth, Ms. CowCulus later told me the AP didn't come down too hard on me, but I'm pretty sure the AP was trying to avoid piling on -- I'm already a haggard, twitchy wreck.
The stuff we have to do to meet state requirements, in the way of lesson plans, standards-based learning / testing, etc., is a nightmare, if you don't have a base from which to build, which of course I don't. I really can't do justice to all the paperwork and planning that I'm obligated to do. But the coldest slap in the face has been the amazing lack of math skills among my Algebra II and Geometry students. Algebra I, I could kind of understand, but these kids have presumably all passed Algebra I. The Algebra II kids have also passed Geometry (except for one young lady who is a senior and failed Geometry, and now has the great good fortune to have me for both Geometry and Algebra II. She told me on the first day that she hates math and she is terrible at it, and that nothing I say is going to convince her otherwise. Perhaps if she actually paid attention in class she might get more out of it, though...
Meanwhile, I had a kid yesterday look at me with a completely innocent, totally bewildered look when I asked her to finish solving the equation -2 + 7. It was as if I had asked her to add e raised to the i-th power and pi raised to the square root of 5. I spent an hour today going over the equation of a line. Example: "Okay, class, y=mx+b is the slope-intercept form: m is the slope, and b is the y-intercept. Now, suppose I tell you that the slope of the line is 3, and the y-intercept is 4. What is the equation of the line?" Blank stares. "Okay, well, in this equation, y=mx+b, m is the slope. So if the slope is 3, we get y=_x + b. What goes in the blank?" And so on. I am okay with going slowly through things, and explaining them in a number of different ways so that perhaps one will click. But while I'm explaining how to find the slope from two points ('rise over run') for the 7th time in the 6th different way, what are the kids who got it the first time doing? Aren't I doing the ones who already get this stuff a disservice by holding them back from learning more?
Anyway, it's an adventure. Each day, the first period is a real struggle, and I find my way a little bit better throughout the day. Still, I wonder if anyone will actually learn any geometry this year.
I got a classroom visit today from my Assistant Principal, and she didn't say much of anything in the 20 minutes she sat and observed. She then left and went to Ms. CowCulus's room. As noted earlier, Ms. CowCulus is the head of the math department, and is, I am confident, a kindergarten teacher reincarnated as a high school math teacher. She's very good -- she was MHS's teacher of the year recently, but her room is awash in posters and sayings and cutouts and word walls and decorative borders and cute wall hangings that have pockets for the calculators the students use and... and... and... So the AP (that's Assistant Principal to you -- public schools apparently acronym-ize absolutely everything, then change all the acronyms roughly every 4 years, just to keep everyone confused. Remember ESL (English as a Second Language)? Now it's ESOL (English for Speakers of Other Language) and occasionally ELL (English Language Learners). Anyway, the AP says to Ms. CowCulus... "Maybe you could help out Mr. Math Guy. His room needs a little help." For what it's worth, Ms. CowCulus later told me the AP didn't come down too hard on me, but I'm pretty sure the AP was trying to avoid piling on -- I'm already a haggard, twitchy wreck.
The stuff we have to do to meet state requirements, in the way of lesson plans, standards-based learning / testing, etc., is a nightmare, if you don't have a base from which to build, which of course I don't. I really can't do justice to all the paperwork and planning that I'm obligated to do. But the coldest slap in the face has been the amazing lack of math skills among my Algebra II and Geometry students. Algebra I, I could kind of understand, but these kids have presumably all passed Algebra I. The Algebra II kids have also passed Geometry (except for one young lady who is a senior and failed Geometry, and now has the great good fortune to have me for both Geometry and Algebra II. She told me on the first day that she hates math and she is terrible at it, and that nothing I say is going to convince her otherwise. Perhaps if she actually paid attention in class she might get more out of it, though...
Meanwhile, I had a kid yesterday look at me with a completely innocent, totally bewildered look when I asked her to finish solving the equation -2 + 7. It was as if I had asked her to add e raised to the i-th power and pi raised to the square root of 5. I spent an hour today going over the equation of a line. Example: "Okay, class, y=mx+b is the slope-intercept form: m is the slope, and b is the y-intercept. Now, suppose I tell you that the slope of the line is 3, and the y-intercept is 4. What is the equation of the line?" Blank stares. "Okay, well, in this equation, y=mx+b, m is the slope. So if the slope is 3, we get y=_x + b. What goes in the blank?" And so on. I am okay with going slowly through things, and explaining them in a number of different ways so that perhaps one will click. But while I'm explaining how to find the slope from two points ('rise over run') for the 7th time in the 6th different way, what are the kids who got it the first time doing? Aren't I doing the ones who already get this stuff a disservice by holding them back from learning more?
Anyway, it's an adventure. Each day, the first period is a real struggle, and I find my way a little bit better throughout the day. Still, I wonder if anyone will actually learn any geometry this year.
Sunday, August 23, 2009
Minus 1
Okay, here's an example of what they're not telling me that they somehow expect me to know. Then, I promise, I'm getting off the "how come they didn't tell me these things" bandwagon.
Friday, I get a message to come to the Assistant Principal's office to pick up the Student Handbooks and some other things they have to sign. I was told that the students would get these things in their homeroom, and I was pretty sure I didn't have one, since no one had said I did, and I hadn't been given any information about them at all. I turned to leave. I could have left and thought nothing more about it, assuming my Algebra II class would be showing up at my door at 7:45 tomorrow, after 15 minutes in someone else's homeroom. I decided to ask if I had a homeroom.
It turns out I do, of course. So I asked my Assistant Principal what I am supposed to do in homeroom. Not to worry, she tells me, it'll all get explained at the big meeting during lunch Friday. Big meeting comes and goes. No explanation. I decide not to worry about it -- apparently, all I need to do is hand out the forms, tell them to return them signed by their caregiver, and send them on their merry way.
Today, Sunday, I was walking past an open office on my way to my car to go home, and stopped in to say hello. As we talked, she mentioned her homeroom class, which generated a discussion on what's entailed. Turns out, I'm supposed to hand out ID's and schedules, two things the students (who probably know what is supposed to happen in homeroom) are likely to want, and be unhappy that their homeroom teacher is clueless about. She tells me the ID's and schedules are in my box in the teachers lounge.
I go in there. Nothing. I go find the Assistant Principal in charge of scheduling, and as soon as she sees me coming she says "Oh, yeah... I need to let you know you don't have any ID's for your kids." This is 4 PM on SUNDAY. When was she planning to let me know?
"What should I tell them?" I ask.
"Well, we're going to round up their ID's from wherever they are and get them to the students on Tuesday."
"What about schedules, since that can't really wait until the next day?"
"You should have those," she tells me.
"Yes, I should. Unfortunately, I don't."
"Oh, well, we'll have them in your box tomorrow morning."
"Righty-o."
Friday, I get a message to come to the Assistant Principal's office to pick up the Student Handbooks and some other things they have to sign. I was told that the students would get these things in their homeroom, and I was pretty sure I didn't have one, since no one had said I did, and I hadn't been given any information about them at all. I turned to leave. I could have left and thought nothing more about it, assuming my Algebra II class would be showing up at my door at 7:45 tomorrow, after 15 minutes in someone else's homeroom. I decided to ask if I had a homeroom.
It turns out I do, of course. So I asked my Assistant Principal what I am supposed to do in homeroom. Not to worry, she tells me, it'll all get explained at the big meeting during lunch Friday. Big meeting comes and goes. No explanation. I decide not to worry about it -- apparently, all I need to do is hand out the forms, tell them to return them signed by their caregiver, and send them on their merry way.
Today, Sunday, I was walking past an open office on my way to my car to go home, and stopped in to say hello. As we talked, she mentioned her homeroom class, which generated a discussion on what's entailed. Turns out, I'm supposed to hand out ID's and schedules, two things the students (who probably know what is supposed to happen in homeroom) are likely to want, and be unhappy that their homeroom teacher is clueless about. She tells me the ID's and schedules are in my box in the teachers lounge.
I go in there. Nothing. I go find the Assistant Principal in charge of scheduling, and as soon as she sees me coming she says "Oh, yeah... I need to let you know you don't have any ID's for your kids." This is 4 PM on SUNDAY. When was she planning to let me know?
"What should I tell them?" I ask.
"Well, we're going to round up their ID's from wherever they are and get them to the students on Tuesday."
"What about schedules, since that can't really wait until the next day?"
"You should have those," she tells me.
"Yes, I should. Unfortunately, I don't."
"Oh, well, we'll have them in your box tomorrow morning."
"Righty-o."
Saturday, August 22, 2009
D-Day Minus 2
So now there is one day of prep left prior to my debut in front of approximately 180 future leaders of America, who expect me to guide them along the path to greatness. I'm not even remotely ready.
However, I'm feeling reasonably good about my prospects for avoiding major catastrophe. Tomorrow will be all about putting together the specific items I want to talk about and what I want to say. I've decided to stop caring about the fact that my room is going to look like shit relative to all of the overachievers who are decorating their bulletin boards, putting up themed posters and otherwise making their rooms look like artists' renderings of award-winning 3rd grade classrooms. My department head, who teaches calculus, uses a cow theme (cow-culus... get it?) and has cows ("moooving ahead through math") everywhere. There's also an enormous tree on the back wall, for hanging vocabulary words from.
Meanwhile, one of the assistant principals wants us to teach a lesson each of the first 6 days on things like tardiness, dress codes, etc. The packet he sent around includes worksheets, group activities and quizzes. (Why am I late? (a) my previous class is on the other side of the campus, (b) I had to go to my locker, (c) the halls were too crowded or (d) I spent too much time socializing with my friends.) It's about third grade level ("Okay, class. Who can tell me some reasons why a person might be tardy? Now, how do you think we might be able to prevent that from happening in the future?") So it looks like I'm going to start out being a maverick. I'm going to talk about tardiness ("Don't do it. If you do it very often, you're going to have to stay after school to make up the time.") but I'm not planning to do quizzes and group discussions on the subject.
I'm more than somewhat disappointed that there was essentially no help for first-time teachers (of whom there are apparently very few) and "new to MHS" teachers, of whom there are a whole bunch. The latter group probably knows the right questions to ask, but not the answers. The former group really doesn't even know the questions. I've started a list of things I wish I'd known on Monday, and so far it has about 35 items on it. For most of those things, I've learned the right answer, but in several cases, I would have been much better served to have known it earlier. Of course, there are a number of things I still don't know, and I don't have any idea what it is that I don't even know that I don't know.
I guess I'll find out in a couple of days...
However, I'm feeling reasonably good about my prospects for avoiding major catastrophe. Tomorrow will be all about putting together the specific items I want to talk about and what I want to say. I've decided to stop caring about the fact that my room is going to look like shit relative to all of the overachievers who are decorating their bulletin boards, putting up themed posters and otherwise making their rooms look like artists' renderings of award-winning 3rd grade classrooms. My department head, who teaches calculus, uses a cow theme (cow-culus... get it?) and has cows ("moooving ahead through math") everywhere. There's also an enormous tree on the back wall, for hanging vocabulary words from.
Meanwhile, one of the assistant principals wants us to teach a lesson each of the first 6 days on things like tardiness, dress codes, etc. The packet he sent around includes worksheets, group activities and quizzes. (Why am I late? (a) my previous class is on the other side of the campus, (b) I had to go to my locker, (c) the halls were too crowded or (d) I spent too much time socializing with my friends.) It's about third grade level ("Okay, class. Who can tell me some reasons why a person might be tardy? Now, how do you think we might be able to prevent that from happening in the future?") So it looks like I'm going to start out being a maverick. I'm going to talk about tardiness ("Don't do it. If you do it very often, you're going to have to stay after school to make up the time.") but I'm not planning to do quizzes and group discussions on the subject.
I'm more than somewhat disappointed that there was essentially no help for first-time teachers (of whom there are apparently very few) and "new to MHS" teachers, of whom there are a whole bunch. The latter group probably knows the right questions to ask, but not the answers. The former group really doesn't even know the questions. I've started a list of things I wish I'd known on Monday, and so far it has about 35 items on it. For most of those things, I've learned the right answer, but in several cases, I would have been much better served to have known it earlier. Of course, there are a number of things I still don't know, and I don't have any idea what it is that I don't even know that I don't know.
I guess I'll find out in a couple of days...
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