I just finished my first round of real life Student Led Conferences.
Not the ones where I was just a student teacher observing. No. These were my students sharing work that I gave them. These were students that I see every single day sharing the goals I helped them write.
It was one of the most unexpected experiences I've ever had.
I am so lucky to be where I am this year. I'm teaching 6th grade Social Studies at Stewart Middle School in the Tacoma School District. It's one of the SIG schools in TPSD. They lost about 80% (if not more) of their staff to displacements last year and have completely restructured the school.
The principal for Tacoma's School of the Arts (SOTA) and brand new high school the Science and Math Institute (SAMI) had an incredible vision for a middle school that went along with the SOTA and SAMI model. Thus was born Stewart STEAM school.
We have a heavy focus on science, technology, engineering, art, and math. Our goal is to use these outlets of education to help foster not only improved test scores, but more readiness when it comes to the future. The work has been incredible so far.
Many of us on the teaching staff this year are first year teachers, and most of us have been teaching five years or less. We have a wonderful team that uses collaboration like I've never seen it used before. I've taught many classes with another teacher where we've combined our students into one room and team-taught, and the entire 6th grade humanities (language arts and social studies) team is working on a School Building of the Future where students design a school that best suits student needs and focuses on how they affect the environment. This project integrates social studies issues (environment, needs of people, interaction), math (scale drawing, scale building), technology (computer programs, educational technology), language arts (writing, public speaking), art (physical representations), and architecture (they actually build their buildings!). Working with an entire team on a single project has been both overwhelming and awe-inspiring.
Another way we're going to collaborate, a way that I'm extremely excited about, is during our January Mini-terms. In January, we'll get three weeks to teach a collaborative lesson with another teacher (or two) with only 15 students per teacher. We'll see the same kids for three weeks, all day every day, and put our efforts into a project (which will be displayed Down Town Tacoma for those who are interested!).
I'm so excited about everything we're doing that I want to spill it all onto the keyboard and explode with all the knowledge I want to endow you with! But I'm starting to realize that for the non-teacher, this particular blog is really not that interesting.
In fact, it's probably interesting only to me.
I'd love to share more about my mini-term (Discussions on the Battle of Agincourt during the Hundred Years War and Hamburger Hill during Vietnam-- and the art, literature, media, and theater that came from it!) in a later blog. I'm very excited to work with the drama teacher on that effort.
Please bare with me as I post these long, rambling blogs... it's been two months since I've been teaching and I have so much to share!
Thursday, October 28, 2010
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
Becoming a real boy! Oh... I'm not Pinocchio... becoming a real TEACHER
It's been two months.
Two months ago, I got a call saying, "Ms. Hall! It's Ms. Denman. Have you found a position yet?"
No, I hadn't. Of course I hadn't! I was a teacher freshly-licensed, two months out of school, desperate for a position but with my highest hopes being to sub for the year while I got my foot in the door for a full time position.
But alas, Ms. Sydelle Denman was ecstatic to hear that I didn't yet have a position, because she could think of no one better than me for a Social Studies opening at the school she was co-directing (a fancy word for Assistant Principal) and would love for me to interview with the principal because she just knew he'd love me.
If you know me, you can imagine the look on my face when I got that news. Thank goodness I was house-sitting, alone in my aunt's house, because I was ecstatic; raw chicken in hand (it was dinner time, after all), I squeezed my fists together, let out an exasperated but silent shout for joy, and tossed the chicken into the Alfredo sauce I was baking it into. I tried my best to compose myself. I knew Sydelle, had worked with her at Jason Lee, but I thought it was important to remain as professional as possible.
That was a difficult feat. I barely heard her when she gave me the name of the principal and his phone number. As soon as I got off the phone, I'd forgotten when she said he'd call. I knew it was that night, but I was unsure of when I should be ready to brag myself up. My heart nearly jumped through my chest. I was frantic when I finished making dinner. I called everyone I could think of that would be happy for me, hoping for encouraging words. Their words didn't help calm me down.
The principal didn't call that night. He didn't call the next day, or for a few days. But Sydelle continued to call me and see how I was doing. She checked that I was doing all the official stuff-- letters of reccomendation, the application, background check. Finally, I got a call from Mr. Ketler with a date for my interview. A real life interview for a real life teaching job.
The interview was scheduled for two weeks before school was scheduled to start. It was scheduled for less than a week before I knew about it. But the wonderful Sydelle, who had given me so much confidence, assured me that the position was mine and even asked me to come in and start meeting everyone and getting my classroom set up.
Even after being introduced to the staff, I didn't feel like I had the position just yet. Even after I began setting up my classroom, I wasn't quite sure that it was real. Even after my interview came and went, I wasn't feeling secure.
I set up my classroom. I attended all the meetings. Professional development. It wasn't until one week before school that I got the official call that hired me. It was the following Monday, just days before school was slated to start, that I had my new hire orientation.
The process was stressful, nerve-racking. It was scary. It was surreal.
Now, here I sit, typing this recollection of those couple weeks from the classroom that I see 60 kids a day in. 120 students and I call this classroom our own. I am their social studies teacher.
And I could not be happier.
For once in my life, I love getting up for work in the morning. Even the days I want to go back to bed, I'd never consider it. Playing hooky doesn't even cross my mind. I adore my students, I'm best friends with the staff, and I can't imagine a better place for me.
This school, Stewart Middle School, is such a positive place. The changes that we're evolving through are so incredible.
But that is a blog for another day.
Two months ago, I got a call saying, "Ms. Hall! It's Ms. Denman. Have you found a position yet?"
No, I hadn't. Of course I hadn't! I was a teacher freshly-licensed, two months out of school, desperate for a position but with my highest hopes being to sub for the year while I got my foot in the door for a full time position.
But alas, Ms. Sydelle Denman was ecstatic to hear that I didn't yet have a position, because she could think of no one better than me for a Social Studies opening at the school she was co-directing (a fancy word for Assistant Principal) and would love for me to interview with the principal because she just knew he'd love me.
If you know me, you can imagine the look on my face when I got that news. Thank goodness I was house-sitting, alone in my aunt's house, because I was ecstatic; raw chicken in hand (it was dinner time, after all), I squeezed my fists together, let out an exasperated but silent shout for joy, and tossed the chicken into the Alfredo sauce I was baking it into. I tried my best to compose myself. I knew Sydelle, had worked with her at Jason Lee, but I thought it was important to remain as professional as possible.
That was a difficult feat. I barely heard her when she gave me the name of the principal and his phone number. As soon as I got off the phone, I'd forgotten when she said he'd call. I knew it was that night, but I was unsure of when I should be ready to brag myself up. My heart nearly jumped through my chest. I was frantic when I finished making dinner. I called everyone I could think of that would be happy for me, hoping for encouraging words. Their words didn't help calm me down.
The principal didn't call that night. He didn't call the next day, or for a few days. But Sydelle continued to call me and see how I was doing. She checked that I was doing all the official stuff-- letters of reccomendation, the application, background check. Finally, I got a call from Mr. Ketler with a date for my interview. A real life interview for a real life teaching job.
The interview was scheduled for two weeks before school was scheduled to start. It was scheduled for less than a week before I knew about it. But the wonderful Sydelle, who had given me so much confidence, assured me that the position was mine and even asked me to come in and start meeting everyone and getting my classroom set up.
Even after being introduced to the staff, I didn't feel like I had the position just yet. Even after I began setting up my classroom, I wasn't quite sure that it was real. Even after my interview came and went, I wasn't feeling secure.
I set up my classroom. I attended all the meetings. Professional development. It wasn't until one week before school that I got the official call that hired me. It was the following Monday, just days before school was slated to start, that I had my new hire orientation.
The process was stressful, nerve-racking. It was scary. It was surreal.
Now, here I sit, typing this recollection of those couple weeks from the classroom that I see 60 kids a day in. 120 students and I call this classroom our own. I am their social studies teacher.
And I could not be happier.
For once in my life, I love getting up for work in the morning. Even the days I want to go back to bed, I'd never consider it. Playing hooky doesn't even cross my mind. I adore my students, I'm best friends with the staff, and I can't imagine a better place for me.
This school, Stewart Middle School, is such a positive place. The changes that we're evolving through are so incredible.
But that is a blog for another day.
Sunday, January 24, 2010
Apology Accepted.
I know it's been a long time since I've written anything. For that, I'm a little disappointed. I was hoping to be able to look back on this blog as an evolution... but I'm afraid it jumps so much from learning experience to learning experience that it won't be as detailed as I hoped.
----
I always knew this would be hard. I knew I would be tried and tried by students and the demands of teaching, 100% more so since I'm a student teacher. But last week has been, by far, my most trying.
I feel like at this point I should have a pretty firm grasp on teaching... I've been in school for a year and a half for this. So when my mentor teacher was gone on a Wednesday when I was gone and asked me to handle the lesson on Thursday, I naturally agreed and was excited to do so.
When I got to school that day, I was bombarded by students in the hall, "Ms. Hall! I'm so glad you're here!" "Ms. Hall, yesterday with the sub was awful!" They told me stories about how bad everything went on Wednesday when their teacher and I were both gone.
That's how I started my day. And guess how Thursday went?
Let's just say I found out on Thursday that I really need to get a firmer handle on my classroom management.
Kids were bouncing off the walls, defying everything I asked of them. One in five students actually did their assigned task. They talked when I talked, yelled across the room, smacked each other. And it didn't help that when I finally started to get a handle on the class, the sub questioned my actions in front of the kids, interjecting random questions and facts that had nothing to do with the lesson and questioning my authority and management techniques.
Beat, I went home trying to stay positive: it went awful, but it's a learning experience and I took a lot from it. That night, as I tried to stay positive and slightly relaxed, my phone rang with an e-mail from my mentor teacher: she'd be out Friday, too.
Luckily, on Friday I had an excellent sub who, when the first class went crazy, grabbed them back and lectured them on how disrespectful they were. It was a great lecture that made the students realize that their actions truly disrespectful and unbecoming: how could they treat Ms. Hall, someone who's trying to learn from them, the way they were treating her?
I got a lot of great advice from that sub, who was a student teacher herself just last year. I felt much better about teaching that day, even though it still didn't go as well as I would hope.
Those two days were... well, awful. For the first time ever, I went home and questioned myself: whether or not I'd be a good teacher, whether kids would actually learn from me. For the first time, I questioned myself as an educator.
I didn't make it back to school until the next Friday. The first thing I got when I got there was this:
Dear Ms. Hall,
As a student teacher I know you are learning to become a teacher. I am sorry when I was not makeing that easy for you by talking when you where, not reading along with whoever is reading, and not folowing all the directions you gave me. Next time I will act differently. While you are talking I will listen and not interupt. When I am spose to be working I will, work without inteurupting the class or anyone. If you give me a warning I will go to where ever you tell me to go. and I am agin really super sorry we behaved badly for you... YOU CAN DO IT
Sinceraly, Jakob
Oh my goodness, I can't describe how overwhelmed I was by this letter.
That last sentence, one that Jakob added on all by himself, with no coaching... "I am agin really super sorry we behaved badly for you..." something he truly meant; "YOU CAN DO IT" something that truly meant something to me.
Deep down, I know I can do it. But getting that letter, hearing it in Jakob's letter, really makes me know I can do it.
This is why I teach. All students are good, even if it has to be dug out. All students have something to say, something to learn, something they can do for another person. Even when they're terrible one day, they can suprise you. Even a gesture as simple as an apology letter, partly coached by the teacher but then embellished with the student's own words, can change someone's life.
I believe in all my students, even those who don't believe in themselves. I know they have so much potential.
Who knew that it would take one student to believe in my to realize my own potential?
----
I always knew this would be hard. I knew I would be tried and tried by students and the demands of teaching, 100% more so since I'm a student teacher. But last week has been, by far, my most trying.
I feel like at this point I should have a pretty firm grasp on teaching... I've been in school for a year and a half for this. So when my mentor teacher was gone on a Wednesday when I was gone and asked me to handle the lesson on Thursday, I naturally agreed and was excited to do so.
When I got to school that day, I was bombarded by students in the hall, "Ms. Hall! I'm so glad you're here!" "Ms. Hall, yesterday with the sub was awful!" They told me stories about how bad everything went on Wednesday when their teacher and I were both gone.
That's how I started my day. And guess how Thursday went?
Let's just say I found out on Thursday that I really need to get a firmer handle on my classroom management.
Kids were bouncing off the walls, defying everything I asked of them. One in five students actually did their assigned task. They talked when I talked, yelled across the room, smacked each other. And it didn't help that when I finally started to get a handle on the class, the sub questioned my actions in front of the kids, interjecting random questions and facts that had nothing to do with the lesson and questioning my authority and management techniques.
Beat, I went home trying to stay positive: it went awful, but it's a learning experience and I took a lot from it. That night, as I tried to stay positive and slightly relaxed, my phone rang with an e-mail from my mentor teacher: she'd be out Friday, too.
Luckily, on Friday I had an excellent sub who, when the first class went crazy, grabbed them back and lectured them on how disrespectful they were. It was a great lecture that made the students realize that their actions truly disrespectful and unbecoming: how could they treat Ms. Hall, someone who's trying to learn from them, the way they were treating her?
I got a lot of great advice from that sub, who was a student teacher herself just last year. I felt much better about teaching that day, even though it still didn't go as well as I would hope.
Those two days were... well, awful. For the first time ever, I went home and questioned myself: whether or not I'd be a good teacher, whether kids would actually learn from me. For the first time, I questioned myself as an educator.
I didn't make it back to school until the next Friday. The first thing I got when I got there was this:
Dear Ms. Hall,
As a student teacher I know you are learning to become a teacher. I am sorry when I was not makeing that easy for you by talking when you where, not reading along with whoever is reading, and not folowing all the directions you gave me. Next time I will act differently. While you are talking I will listen and not interupt. When I am spose to be working I will, work without inteurupting the class or anyone. If you give me a warning I will go to where ever you tell me to go. and I am agin really super sorry we behaved badly for you... YOU CAN DO IT
Sinceraly, Jakob
Oh my goodness, I can't describe how overwhelmed I was by this letter.
That last sentence, one that Jakob added on all by himself, with no coaching... "I am agin really super sorry we behaved badly for you..." something he truly meant; "YOU CAN DO IT" something that truly meant something to me.
Deep down, I know I can do it. But getting that letter, hearing it in Jakob's letter, really makes me know I can do it.
This is why I teach. All students are good, even if it has to be dug out. All students have something to say, something to learn, something they can do for another person. Even when they're terrible one day, they can suprise you. Even a gesture as simple as an apology letter, partly coached by the teacher but then embellished with the student's own words, can change someone's life.
I believe in all my students, even those who don't believe in themselves. I know they have so much potential.
Who knew that it would take one student to believe in my to realize my own potential?
Thursday, October 29, 2009
even if i wanted to...
i feel as if even if i wanted to
i couldn't leave
i couldn't say no
it must be my motivation
determination
and lack of strength
what does it say about me
that i've never changed my mind?
is it will power?
fear?
or am i just meant to teach?
i hope and pray it's the latter
i want to teach
i know i'll be good at it
but i'm afraid.
what does that fear mean?
i've always been confident. and now,
when it matters most,
i'm afraid
will they respect me?
will they like me?
will they learn from me?
what matters most is that they learn.
and even though i don't yet know them,
i love them.
i'm happy to know that that love will change lives
and when i reflect on that
i'm no longer afraid.
i couldn't leave
i couldn't say no
it must be my motivation
determination
and lack of strength
what does it say about me
that i've never changed my mind?
is it will power?
fear?
or am i just meant to teach?
i hope and pray it's the latter
i want to teach
i know i'll be good at it
but i'm afraid.
what does that fear mean?
i've always been confident. and now,
when it matters most,
i'm afraid
will they respect me?
will they like me?
will they learn from me?
what matters most is that they learn.
and even though i don't yet know them,
i love them.
i'm happy to know that that love will change lives
and when i reflect on that
i'm no longer afraid.
Thursday, October 15, 2009
Sixth Grade... admiration and childhood
In one day of practicum in my new sixth grade classroom, I've learned so much about myself as an educator and about 6th graders who are in reality such children.
I tend to think of my students as little adults-- they're as big as me, so I can't think of them as "children" per se. Of course they're still kids... but I try to treat them like juveniles, young adults who are learning their place in the world, rather than children who need to be baby-sat.
Being in this sixth grade class has put my whole student body into perspective.
My eighth graders last semester had a level of maturity that was beginning to outweigh childhood. They were starting to delve into serious relationships and learn what it's like to cooperate with people in friendships and work environments; they know how to care for themselves in more than a superficial way, and they've become to take on a bit of intrinsic motivation with their educations. They know how to strategically stretch the truth and they're beginning to identify themselves as individuals.
The first thing I noticed in the sixth grade classroom on Tuesday was how bad they are at lying. I'm not sure what that says about me, but I believe there's a time and a place for a little bit of falsification, and the students I'd ideally like to teach (8th or 9th grade) generally know when that time is and why. The sixth graders don't know when. They don't know why, and they don't know how.
They're so goofy. They laugh at stupid jokes, use terrible vocabulary, and don't know how to write. My 8th graders last semester made me cry with their poetry; these sixth graders can't go into depth further than their own noses, and it's so tedious for me to try to listen to them like I would my older kids.
On the other hand, there are things about the child-like qualities of these kids that I can't get enough of.
First, I can tell these students are going to love me. My eighth graders were old enough that looking up to a teacher meant something different than admiration. Eighth graders were respectful in a professional way. This kids admire me like only children can-- I'm an adult to them, someone older and wiser who they can look up to and love.
Second, the sixth graders marvel at life like children do-- they stare out the window with longing for adventure rather than for getting home for the day. They read stories and imagine themselves in them rather than rolling their eyes at the thought of another novel. They have a bead in their eye that only children have.
Finally, these sixth graders are so energetic. They laugh. They smile. If they make fun of someone, it's not serious.
Discipline is not a problem. The "teacher look" works for these kids. Defiance is easily quashed.
They're babies.
And I'm not sure if that makes me love them or hate them.
What kind of teacher am I going to be?
I tend to think of my students as little adults-- they're as big as me, so I can't think of them as "children" per se. Of course they're still kids... but I try to treat them like juveniles, young adults who are learning their place in the world, rather than children who need to be baby-sat.
Being in this sixth grade class has put my whole student body into perspective.
My eighth graders last semester had a level of maturity that was beginning to outweigh childhood. They were starting to delve into serious relationships and learn what it's like to cooperate with people in friendships and work environments; they know how to care for themselves in more than a superficial way, and they've become to take on a bit of intrinsic motivation with their educations. They know how to strategically stretch the truth and they're beginning to identify themselves as individuals.
The first thing I noticed in the sixth grade classroom on Tuesday was how bad they are at lying. I'm not sure what that says about me, but I believe there's a time and a place for a little bit of falsification, and the students I'd ideally like to teach (8th or 9th grade) generally know when that time is and why. The sixth graders don't know when. They don't know why, and they don't know how.
They're so goofy. They laugh at stupid jokes, use terrible vocabulary, and don't know how to write. My 8th graders last semester made me cry with their poetry; these sixth graders can't go into depth further than their own noses, and it's so tedious for me to try to listen to them like I would my older kids.
On the other hand, there are things about the child-like qualities of these kids that I can't get enough of.
First, I can tell these students are going to love me. My eighth graders were old enough that looking up to a teacher meant something different than admiration. Eighth graders were respectful in a professional way. This kids admire me like only children can-- I'm an adult to them, someone older and wiser who they can look up to and love.
Second, the sixth graders marvel at life like children do-- they stare out the window with longing for adventure rather than for getting home for the day. They read stories and imagine themselves in them rather than rolling their eyes at the thought of another novel. They have a bead in their eye that only children have.
Finally, these sixth graders are so energetic. They laugh. They smile. If they make fun of someone, it's not serious.
Discipline is not a problem. The "teacher look" works for these kids. Defiance is easily quashed.
They're babies.
And I'm not sure if that makes me love them or hate them.
What kind of teacher am I going to be?
Monday, August 3, 2009
As summer goes by...
I've only been out of the classroom for two months, but it seems like much, much longer.
Who am I going to be when I return to school? When I return to a classroom with students who look up to me?
It may be a silly fear, but in the back of my mind I can't help but wonder if the summer is being detrimental to me. Most of the other student teachers I go to school with took summer classes; they've only got about a month's break to worry their brains over. They had that time to build relationships and keep their teacher minds.
Could mine be disappearing over the summer?
I know it will be impossible to know until I'm back in school. For all I know, class will go on without a hitch. It'll be like coming back from the weekend.
I know it will be nothing like I fear. But what about in the future? If I'm not teaching summer school, will the whole summer leave me forgetting what it's like to be a teacher?
These fears really are silly. I'm a teacher because I want to be. I'm a teacher because I have the heart and the passion for it. I'm a teacher because I know I can do it and I'm meant to do it.
With a teacher's heart, a teacher's mind is unnecessary. This school year will start and I'll realize who I am: a teacher.
And everything will be fine.
Who am I going to be when I return to school? When I return to a classroom with students who look up to me?
It may be a silly fear, but in the back of my mind I can't help but wonder if the summer is being detrimental to me. Most of the other student teachers I go to school with took summer classes; they've only got about a month's break to worry their brains over. They had that time to build relationships and keep their teacher minds.
Could mine be disappearing over the summer?
I know it will be impossible to know until I'm back in school. For all I know, class will go on without a hitch. It'll be like coming back from the weekend.
I know it will be nothing like I fear. But what about in the future? If I'm not teaching summer school, will the whole summer leave me forgetting what it's like to be a teacher?
These fears really are silly. I'm a teacher because I want to be. I'm a teacher because I have the heart and the passion for it. I'm a teacher because I know I can do it and I'm meant to do it.
With a teacher's heart, a teacher's mind is unnecessary. This school year will start and I'll realize who I am: a teacher.
And everything will be fine.
Monday, June 15, 2009
Down Time and Teacher Connections
I have people I love. I have people that I've connected with over time, people that I consider "friend." But I have very few people that I am really close to.
I have so many people that I care about, and hopefully as many that care about me. But lately I've been longing for people who are more than friends. I think I'm starting to realize who I want those people to be.
I have my boyfriend, a wonderful guy who is more supportive to me in my endeavors to teach than I could ever have hoped for. I have, as I said, a few friends who I interact with in social situations and depend on in times of need.
But I want to be friends with teachers.
The people in my Hub are amazing. I don't really know any of them that well [yet], but they're there for me when I need them, every one of them, and I try to be there for them.
I really want to be close to them. It's a personal desire, but when I think about why I want to be close to them, I realize that those people are going to be my greatest resource when I actually do start teaching.
I know I'm going to be working in a school with a teaching team that will be a good resource. But I want to have these people in my hub, especially a few that I particularly long for their friendship, to be in my life through our actual careers in teaching.
I also think about my mentor in high school, Mr. Rupprecht, the guy who made me want to teach social studies and encouraged my decision to go to PLU (though I'm not sure he knows he encouraged it...) I haven't e-mailed him in a while, and I really hope that I don't lose track of all the help he gave me, even if he doesn't realize how much he helped me.
I want to be that teacher to someone, and I'd like to keep in contact with the guy who made me want to be that way.
I'm stuck on the fact that my peers and my mentor are going to be the greatest friends I'll ever have, even if I don't see them every day. Even if I'm not that close to them.
I want to be close to them.
I have so many people that I care about, and hopefully as many that care about me. But lately I've been longing for people who are more than friends. I think I'm starting to realize who I want those people to be.
I have my boyfriend, a wonderful guy who is more supportive to me in my endeavors to teach than I could ever have hoped for. I have, as I said, a few friends who I interact with in social situations and depend on in times of need.
But I want to be friends with teachers.
The people in my Hub are amazing. I don't really know any of them that well [yet], but they're there for me when I need them, every one of them, and I try to be there for them.
I really want to be close to them. It's a personal desire, but when I think about why I want to be close to them, I realize that those people are going to be my greatest resource when I actually do start teaching.
I know I'm going to be working in a school with a teaching team that will be a good resource. But I want to have these people in my hub, especially a few that I particularly long for their friendship, to be in my life through our actual careers in teaching.
I also think about my mentor in high school, Mr. Rupprecht, the guy who made me want to teach social studies and encouraged my decision to go to PLU (though I'm not sure he knows he encouraged it...) I haven't e-mailed him in a while, and I really hope that I don't lose track of all the help he gave me, even if he doesn't realize how much he helped me.
I want to be that teacher to someone, and I'd like to keep in contact with the guy who made me want to be that way.
I'm stuck on the fact that my peers and my mentor are going to be the greatest friends I'll ever have, even if I don't see them every day. Even if I'm not that close to them.
I want to be close to them.
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