Reality Check

another late night, another early morning that will come too quickly. I try to be in bed by 9:30 on weeknights, but Thursdays are especially brutal. We have our lesson plans due for the next week on Fridays, so Thurdsay nights I’m usually planning 5 lessons for the following week as well as planning/finishing my lesson for tomorrow and creating the weekly quiz. Not to mention this week, I had to make 2 batches of muffins for the winners of our newest management technique disguised as a competition: Row Race 2010. In each of my 4 classes, the students try to earn points for their row by bringing their homework (this is a bigger battle than you would imagine), sitting quietly, taking notes, etc. This is our first full week of the competiton and so far it has worked incredibly well in my first three periods. All I have to do is give Row 3 10 points for sitting quietly, and Rows 1, 2, 4, 5, and 6 are usually quick to follow. It’s worth the 67 cents per box of muffins and the $4 Capri Suns. However, it’s not working quite as I would hope in my 8^th period.

I’m still having a rough time with that last period. I wrote 6 people up in 3 days, sent a student to another teacher’s room, and came the closest I’ve come so far to tears in school when a fight almost broke out in my classroom. The whole class has been on silent lunch, and the resource officer and the drop out prevention officer came by to observe my classroom. They had incredibly nice and encouraging things to say, and claimed the kids were very engaged in the lesson that they observed. That also happened to be the lesson right after their silent lunch (given to them by their homeroom teacher, not me) and they were for some reason really well behaved. That lasted all of one day. We’re back to normal, or normal for them: yelling, talking, getting up randomly from their seats. This class is truly going to challenge me.

Yesterday one of my roommates and I went to the Enfield football game. We had to drive out to the local high school, about 15 minutes away in the middle of nowhere. On the way, we drove through some of the neighborhoods that our kids may live in, and it was definitely a reality check. We hadn’t yet seen anything in Enfield besides a few trailers, a run down gas station, and our beautiful new school. (plus, the cotton is blooming—it is an incredible sight!). To see the conditions of the neighborhoods was devastating and depressing. And to think that some of our kids could live there makes it even worse. You don’t think of those things when your kids all walk in wearing their uniforms and their mischievous smiles. You don’t see them as living in poverty; they all look the same at school (clearly that is the point behind uniforms). But seeing those houses made it seem more real. The biggest challenge is not letting that affect the high expectations that you hold these kids to. They have much more to overcome than your average Glen Allen kid, but if we lower the bar simply because of their circumstances, we only hurt them even more.

Back to the game. I had so much fun I can’t even explain. It was so great to see our boys in their element, doing what they really love. They looked so proud to be wearing their uniforms, and it was cool to see them outside of school. My heart melted when Darrius, a teeny, narcoleptic and unmotivated boy from my homeroom, flashed me the widest grin and yelled, “Hey Miss H!” when he saw me in the stands. And to see D’Andre score a touchdown, Rayquan and Dashuntae on the sidelines together, and Diane’ give me a big wave—I was in heaven. I do love these kids, no matter how crazy they drive me. Well, most of them, at least.

Going home this weekend to recharge, be surrounded by friends, and remember what life is like outside of teaching and the rural lifestyle. I can’t wait to go to Target, have time with my friends, and eat at Panera. And I may even be a little bit excited to go see a soccer game at Randolph-Macon. I never thought I’d say that….

Hope and Raspberry Muffins

It's 5:15 in the morning. I should still be sleeping. At least for another 15 minutes. Instead, I'm sitting in the kitchen, waiting for the oven to preheat. Raspberry muffin mix is strewn across the countertops, and maybe even a little bit in my hair. Give me a break, the sun isn't up yet, I could hardly see what I was doing. But it doesn't matter, anyway. Little Mack has finally asked to meet in the mornings for tutoring. And two days in a row he has stayed true to his commitment. Two days in a row, I have gone to pick him up from the hallway where the buses drop off the students, and both days he walked towards me himself, without pretending like he didn't see me and without any complaining. And yesterday (drum roll, please), when a friend made fun of him for coming to study with me, he said, "Man, it helps me!" I could have cried. And if I wasn't so focused on making use of every one of the 13 minutes we have before class starts, I may have.

Maybe it's the fact that my SmartBoard is finally working, so we can now do his flashcards on the interactive board. Maybe it's because I bring him muffins and a Capri Sun every time he comes. Maybe it's because we had a test this week and he knew he was behind. Or maybe (and hopefully), he's finally starting to understand how much knowing his addition, subtraction, multiplication, and division facts will make his life and math class easier. That counting 8 minus 5 on your fingers is not efficient. That not knowing 3 divided by 3 equals 1 is a problem for a 7th grader. Regardless, he wants to practice.

It's the small successes that keep me going. Because heaven knows if I was counting on the big ones, I wouldn't be here, in education or in Enfield. Small steps, my friends.

Hiltini, Hiltuna, Hilteena....

I used the Flip Camera our school has given us to tape some of my kids working on a group work assignment. That alone is not very interesting. However, listening to Rayquan trying to pronounce my name about a million different ways is. It's the last 10 seconds of the clip...listen carefully. I'm dying laughing as I watch this.

TFA (Tired, Frustrated, and Annoyed)

Week three is coming to a close and I have such mixed emotions. Most days, it's a struggle to get out of bed, more because my alarm goes off at 5:00 am than because I don't want to go to school. By the time I get up, put the finishing touches on my lesson, shower, get dressed, eat breakfast, pack lunch, and get in the car, I'm almost always ready to face the day ahead. And it helps that we're greeted by a beautiful sunrise every morning as we turn the corner onto the main road where Enfield Middle sits quietly, awaiting the hustle and bustle of students to fill the halls.

Today was not one of those days. As I stare blankly at the empty desks before me, two hours after the students have left, I can't help but wonder what I'm doing wrong. Three days in a row my last period class has been literally out of control. Yesterday, I had to have a teacher across the hall come over and reign them in. My voice just isn't loud enough to bellow over the voices of 18 twelve year olds. They were up on their feet, for the second day in a row, yelling insults at each other. A boy and a girl were ready to fight. Another girl laughed in my face when I demanded that she sit down, and then promptly yelled, "I ain't gotta do nothing!" in my face. Chaos, I tell you. Ms. Pitt came in, I watched her class, and she did whatever it is she does that made them get silent and start copying definitions from a math book. When I came back in, we moved the 7 students who never give me problems to the front of the room so we could continue with the lesson, while the other students continued to copy from the book. Of course, as soon as Ms. Pitt left the room there was noise from the others, and I ended up having 8 students on silent lunch today. I left yesterday feeling defeated and embarrassed. But at least someone can now see just how out of control my class it.

I spent my planning period today calling every single one of their parents. I got in touch with some, left messages for others, and found that some phone numbers did not work. But those parents that I did speak to were all very supportive and promised to talk to their students. No one wants to see their kids fail, and that's exactly what is happening to almost all of my 8th period kids. It's frustrating, exhausting, embarrassing, and frankly, just pathetic. These kids have never really learned the importance of school and have very little motivation to do well. I want them to see the world, to see what they are missing outside of the little towns of Scotland Neck and Enfield, and see where they can go with an education. But how?

I dreaded school today because I did not want to face a room full of 12 year olds after I so obviously buckled under pressure. I even had a kid in Ms. Pitt's class say, "Miss H, why you over here? I thought you could handle kids." Well, darling, I can handle normal children. And in smaller groups. But 18 out of my 25 kids on their feet and screaming? Welp, not so much. I have to figure out what makes these kids tick. What consequences will make them "hurt"? What's going to motivate them to do really well in my class? I haven't figured it out yet, but I'm not giving up.

I'm tired, I'm annoyed, I'm frustrated, I'm overwhelmed, but most of all, I'm sad (ok, most of all, I'm tired. But for the sake of the argument...). I'm sad because so many of these kids are just being pushed through the system, and they're losing their opportunity to change their lives. They have NO idea what they are missing, and they may never know. And I'm sad that I have to be the "mean" teacher to have any semblance of control over my classroom.

Five lesson plans due tomorrow, plus I have to create a quiz. I have a feeling that my eyelids may win the battle tonight, though. I am really looking forward to this weekend, to finally get caught up on sleep and maybe even plan a little in advance for once. Oh, such high hopes.

Oh, and my latest phone conversation with Akila:
A: "Hey Miss H!"
Me: "Hey, who's this?"
A: "You don't know my voice by now? This Akila!"
Me: "Hi Akila. What are you doing."
A: "Nothing, just taking a bath."

Really??

At the end of our conversation:
A: "Alright Miss H, I'ma call you later after I get out of the tub."
Me: "See you tomorrow, Akila."

Phone calls & birthday candles

The first day of school, I sent home a parent letter with my email address and phone number in it, plus a memo about joining our Facebook group for the class. Clearly my students didn’t read the letter, because when I used my phone number as an example for a math problem, they could not believe that I would actually give out my number. Everyday a new student says, “Ima call you, Miss H…”, and they always do. I’m up to 4 different students calling our home phone now. The following is my most recent conversation with a student:

Akila: “Hey Miss H.”

Miss H: “Hello, who is this?”

A: “Akila.”

MH: “Hi Akila….what can I do for you?”

A: “What are you doing?”

MH: “I’m lesson planning, Akila.”

A: “Oh, I’ll call back later.”

MH: “I can help you now. What’s up?”

A: “I was just calling to see what you was doing.”

MH: “Oh. Well what are you doing?”

A: “Eating popcorn.”

MH: “Oh. Have you done your homework yet?”

A: “Homework?”

MH: “Giiiirrrlll….you know we had homework. Those 8 problems on the board.”

A: “Oh Miss H, you late.”

MH: “You’ve done them already?”

A: “Yeah.”

MH: “That’s what I like to hear.”

A: “Alright. Well I’ll call you later. Or see you in school tomorrow.”

MH: “Ok, Akila. See you tomorrow.”

Based on the tone of our conversation, Akila thinks we’re best friends. She was just calling to chat, to see what I’m doing. It’s entertaining and cute and oh-so-middle school. And that’s just a little flavor of what my kids are like. I couldn’t even begin to do them justice. Rahjanique comes to my room between all of her classes and after school to hug me. Yesterday she brought me a picture she drew me in one of her other classes. Naquien wrote, “Miss H is best teacher in the world” on his whiteboard when we were working multiplication problems with decimals (even though doodling is strictly against the rules, my heart melted and I couldn’t take the board away). I pick Makala and Amber up in the morning from the gym to come to my room for “extra help”, although I expect it’s more to write on my white board than to practice. So I’ve won over a few students, but tomorrow is the moment of truth: our first quiz, when I’ll really see if I’ve gotten these kids invested in me or invested in learning. I’m afraid of the results, because for every student that likes me, there are 8 more that don’t.

I’m mean. I’m strict. I’m not fun. I’m not fair. The students have said many things about me, whether under their breath or to my face, in the past few days. And most of them are true. I have been mean. My 8^th period is a disaster, and I’ve had to be ridiculously hard on them to get even five minutes of quiet. I’ve resorted to bribing them with class points for every little task they complete, and that still doesn’t work all the time. I am strict. I’ve made them work quietly and move if they are being disruptive. I gave my first silent lunch today. But none of that bothers me. I’ve told them over and over again I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure these kids work hard, even if it means being mean.

What I hate is that I have been unfair. But not the way the kids imagine. I haven’t been giving out consequences as consistently as I should, and I let the troublemakers get away with too much. In my 8^th period, the kids who do want to learn are suffering at the expense of their not-so-productive classmates. And I’m terrified to see the results of the first quiz tomorrow, especially in that class period. I think it’ll be a wake up call for both the kids and me: it’s time to get serious.

You know you’re a teacher when you blow out the candles on your birthday cake and you wish for a well-behaved 8^th period class. My roommates made me my favorite strawberry cake to celebrate yesterday, and sad to say I had to waste my magical wish on behavior management. But regardless it was nice to take some time away from school work and relax around a meal together, even though all we talked about was school and our kids (what can I say, they provide an endless source of entertainment).

Life is still hard, but still wonderful. So many things I could say right now, but my bed is calling my name. Driving back to Richmond tomorrow and to Northern Virginia on Saturday for a friend’s wedding. And that all depends on whether I make it out of 8^th period alive…