The results are in...

It's been a long few weeks of testing, remediation, and retesting, and the results are finally in. But let me back up.

Two weeks ago, my babies geared up for the biggest three days of the school year: end-of-grade testing. They spent a day taking reading and two days taking math (with a calculator and without a calculator). I expected to be much more excited for my kids this year than last year, because overall they worked so much harder than my kids last year. However, as the day got closer, I realized that they had also had so much more to overcome. They came to me after having substitute teacher after substitute teacher in their math classroom as 6th graders. As a whole, they were lower than my the group my first year, and I was scared. Many of them busted their butts all year, and they would certainly show growth, but would it be enough to pass the test?

Unfortunately, for many of my kids, it wasn't enough. The day the results came back, our instructional coach told me it didn't look good. I was sick to my stomach; how would I tell my kids that they didn't do as well as we had hoped? Soon after my principal came down the hallway, the scores in her hands and a tired look on her face. Three of my four classes had less than a 50% pass rate. So many kids that I thought had a chance at passing missed the mark by just a few points. We had been so excited to bask in the glory of our success, that we had never imagined anything else.

Overall, 7th grade math had the highest pass rate in the school out of 7 tested areas, followed closely behind by 8th grade math (my babies from last year and my roommate's current class). After retesting, we even made it into the 60% range for proficiency, which is a pretty big deal for a school whose composite is usually about 40%. But it just didn't feel like enough. I felt discouraged, like all of our hard work had led us nowhere. And then God opened my eyes to some bright spots that truly made me proud.

A few days after receiving the results, our school's transformational coach pulled me aside after school. She is hired by the state to help our principal turn the school around, and while we don't always see eye to eye, her opinion does matter to me. I was nervous when she called me into her office, expecting her to say that she was disappointed by the numbers she saw for my classes. But instead, she began gushing in her sweet southern accent about how wonderful my scores were. I was confused; had she looked at the wrong papers? I told her I was a bit discouraged by the percentages, and that I had expected higher. She informed me that she hadn't even paid attention to the percentages; she had been focusing on growth, and my kids had grown significantly from last year. She pulled up the spreadsheet on her computer, and I was dumbfounded.

My eyes ran across the "Total points growth" column quickly, and my heart raced as I read: 5 points; 8 points; 12 points; 17 points; 10 points; 22 points....my kids had come so far from last year. While we don't really know what is "normal" in terms of growth, the goal for my kids was 7 points, and what we were seeing was amazing. All four of my classes averaged at least 7 points growth, with one class averaging 10 points growth. AVERAGING. That means there were several students in each class with well above 7 and 10 points growth. Even if they hadn't passed, they were significantly closer to being on grade-level than they were last year. I left her office beaming, grateful for a new perspective that reaffirmed my faith in both my kids and myself.

I consider all of my classes to be success stories. Knowing how hard they worked, how bad they wanted it, and how much they grew, there's no question in my mind that we were successful in so many ways. But I've got a real success story that makes me prouder than I ever thought possible. My homeroom rocked it. I mean, ROCKED it, y'all. They had 96% pass rate- all but ONE student passed, and the one student who didn't pass came to me less than 2 months ago, with hardly any basic math knowledge. And because she came so late in the year her score technically doesn't count. This means if we're being technical, we had a 100% pass rate! It gets better. Last year, this same group of 6th grade students had only 2 students pass advanced. This year, we had 10, count them, 10 students pass advanced! But wait! There's more! There are 5 major goals in 7th grade math, and my homeroom babies were at least 7 percentage points above the state average in ALL FIVE GOALS. In one goal, they were 16 points above the state average. These are students in a school that normally performs significantly below every other school in the state. And my babies blew the state average out of the water. I do understand that these students are naturally gifted at math. In fact, many of them managed to pass last year, even without a math teacher. So you may say that they didn't need me. But what I love the most is the last statistic that proves that we worked hard together, and that what we did together mattered. Even though they were already high-performing, they still averaged over 8 points growth as a class. I had students that passed last year grow 10, 12, even 14 points in my class. That is HUGE.

Although these last days are long, some of the best moments of the year are seeing the faces of the kids who have never passed an EOG before when you tell them their passing score. Hands down one of my favorite 30 minutes of this school year was announcing the news to my homeroom that we had the highest pass rate in the school, and watching the kids take off running around the room when they got their scores. Those moments make it all worth it.

The Time Has Come...

Today was our first official day of EOG testing. The kids took the reading test. We spent FOUR HOURS in complete silence, then an additional two and a half hours being barely productive. I can't blame the kids for not wanting to do any work after the test, but we still have two more days of math to get ready for! I'm getting incredibly nervous and excited. Of course I keep wondering what else I should have done to make sure my students are fully prepared. Did we practice the formulas enough? Do they all know how to use the calculators correctly? Will they remember to double-check their work? It's out of my control, now, because tomorrow morning is The Day. Game Day, as I call it. Good news: I have 3 special ed kids that took the modified math test early, and all three of them passed--one even passed advanced! Let's hope for the same results with the rest of the 7th grade. Wish us luck!

The past two weeks have been rough. It's been a battle to get out bed everyday.

About two months ago, we had an incident with two students in one of the 7th grade classrooms. It started out as a playful exchange, and eventually led to a boy picking up a chair and hitting a girl over the head with it, gashing her eyebrow and causing utter chaos before 8 in the morning. He was a student who had come mid-year, and had been a behavior issue since day one. In fact, he had been kicked out of his previous school for fighting, yet we still allowed him to come to our school. Problem number 1,392 with our county.

He was immediately put out of school and within days was a candidate for long-term suspension. Then one day, I saw his name removed from my roster, and I breathed a huge sigh of relief. From day one, he was nothing but disrespectful and disruptive. He created a scene in class, and then laughed when he was disciplined. He talked back, refused to do work, slept, and had half of the seventh grade girls fighting over him. This incident was just the icing on the cake. The girl's parents pressed charges against him, and we thought for sure we were done dealing with this child.

Keyword: thought.

One day after school, our assistant principal was having a casual conversation with one of our team members, and he told her that the boy's trial had been held that day. Apparently, after hearing his case, the judge ordered this kid back to school immediately. She said no one could prove he was a threat to the school, and instead gave him probation and community service. No one could prove he was a threat to the school? Didn't he prove that when he picked up a chair and knocked a girl upside the face with it? He even claimed to have "blacked out" from anger. That's not dangerous?

When I heard the news, I felt sick to my stomach. This kid was going to waltz right back into school with a smirk on his face, and the kids were going to worship him. He would destroy the dynamic of a class I had worked so hard to repair. He would corrupt my innocent babies.

The school didn't have a say in the matter. The judge ordered it, so it was to be done. He was not allowed to come back until the principal had met with the superintendent, and the child, parent and probation officer met with the principal. This bought us 3 terror-free days, but eventually The Day rolled around when his name was placed back on my roster, and I thought I might throw up.

Before he was allowed back in class, we met with our school leaders and went over his behavior contract. It was basically a restatement of all of the rules and policies that ALL of our students must follow, but in a format that would spell it out very clearly for everyone involved. The contract required us to first make contact with the parent, then the probation officer, then disciplinary action. When asked my thoughts on the behavior contract, I couldn't respond with anything except, "I'm so angry that we are even in the position that I cannot think clearly."

Two weeks into his return, the child has broken 10 of his 11 expectations. So what happens? We have another meeting, this time with his father. The principal reminds him that he is not upholding his contract, and that the next offense will mean suspension. But shouldn't it be too late for that? Shouldn't he have been gone the first time he broke his contract?

Reason #275 why I can't stay here. These kids and their parents are not held accountable for anything. Everything is the teacher's fault, the school's fault, the principal's fault. I'm tired of it. I'm tired of working my butt off, only to be told I could be doing more, I should be doing more, that I'm failing my kids. That it's not fair to them. That I'm not good enough. I'm done.

21 days.

Thoughts on Testing

As I pace around the classroom, monitoring my students while they take the practice EOG, I can't help but replay the conversation my roommate and I had this morning while we went through the monotony of our daily routine. Pack lunch. Eat breakfast. Pour coffee. Announce countdown (22 days). Etc. etc. We were entertianing our favorite topic of the moment: life after TFA. The light at the end of the tunnel. Freedom. Independence Day. Get the point? Although both of us are transitioning into charter school jobs, where the hours are longer and the work is even more demanding, we are both moving to populous cities where there are people our age, people who aren't teachers,and some hope for a semi-formal existence (happy hour, anyone?).

We were talking about the schools in Chicago, where my roommate is headed (two reasons to visit now). While our students haven't even started state testing yet, the Chicago charter schools have been finished for nearly two months. I was immediately taken aback by this, and I proceeded to blurt out the question that has been haunting me all morning:

"So what have they been doing for the past two months?"

It's not necessarily the question itself that bothers me. In fact, I think most people woudl have a simliar initial reaction. What bothers me is precisely that. We've been conditioned to believe that our children's education revolves around a state test. That success is measured by their answers to 50 multiple choice questions. And that once the test is over, learning loses its focus.

When I say "we", I'm referring to our entire country. I know my circumstances are extreme. I'm working in a low-income, low-performing district where test scores are the scarlet letter that taint a school's reputation. The only hope of polishing that tarnished reputation is to raise test scores, and to do it quickly. so maybe the emphasis on standardized testing ins't as noticeable in the district where you were from or where you currently live. It has most likely become an expectation, a norm, an unspoken rule. Children pass, and they pass not only with proficiency but with fluency. They are promoted to the next grade level with advanced skills, not the bare minimum.

As soon as I asked that ridiculous question this morning, I felt embarrassed. What do they do after the state test? They probably have the opportunity to encourage creative thinking, to assign projects that allow students to delve into a topic that sparks their individual curiosities. They probably spend time learning about things that shape children as citizens, and not just students. I imagine kids actually get to fully engage in the science and social studies curricula, two subjects that are full of important and fascinating material but are often neglected because they are not tested.

Those students probably don't fear the standardized tests the way ours do. They probably don't have to be threatened with retention or bribed with an end-of-year field trip. Their teachers probably don't pray every night for them to pass the test the way that I do. I bet they are happier, healthier, more well-rounded children.

I know this is just the tip of the iceberg. I know I'm inexperienced, and that there are benefits to standardized testing. I know it's a complex, age-old problem that a second-year teacher isn't going to solve. But hey, this is my blog, and I'm just sharing my thoughts. What are yours?

Drum roll please...

* Written on Tuesday, April 10th but technical difficulties prevented me from posting earlier.

Two great offers. Two great schools. Yet the decision wasn’t difficult.


I think I made it more difficult than it needed to be. I was waiting for the same kind of peace God gave me when I was making my decision senior year about whether to join Teach For America or go abroad. I assumed I’d hear that same quiet voice, whispering either “Henderson” or “Nashville” with a gentle confidence. But God had a different MO this time. Instead of one moment of clarity, He blessed me with a string of reassuring experiences that ultimately gave me confidence in my final decision. I couldn’t see them all right away, but as I weighed my options, it became clear the direction in which He was leading me.
So, I’ll finish teaching in my current Eastern North Carolina school on June 14th, and pack my bags shortly after to move to……..drum roll please….






NASHVILLE, TENNESSEE!


I went into my interview with Henderson on Friday praying that I wouldn’t like it, that I wouldn’t get offered the job, or that there would be some glaring reason to turn down the job if it was offered to me. None of those things happened. I liked the school, I was offered the job, and there really wasn’t a giant red flag in the way. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that I would always wonder, “What if?” if I didn’t take the Nashville job. I already know what it’s like to live in rural North Carolina—boring, lonely, and sometimes even soul-crushing. It’s time for something different, something exciting, and as my roommate said, something life-changing.


I officially accepted the offer yesterday, after over a week of waiting. And this time, not waiting on God. Waiting on the school leader to come back from Spring Break. Immediately after leaving my interview with Henderson last Friday, I was about 85% sure I wanted to take the Nashville job. I spent the next few days “sleeping on it”, and each day I only found myself more excited about the opportunity. By Monday, Dad had booked us plane tickets to start apartment hunting in May, and I was anxiously awaiting the weekend so I could talk to the principal and officially accept the job. The week felt epically long, as I was also waiting for the beginning of our spring break. But finally, I was able to catch up with the principal, ask a few more questions, and express my interest in joining the team.


This week just keeps getting better—I’m currently sitting in a hotel room in Raleigh, watching the Celtics, eating Famous Amos cookies and packing for my trip to CHICAGO to see my sister tomorrow. I should be lesson planning so I’ll be ahead of the game when I get back, but I’m enjoying this whole break thing way too much to care right now. I have a feeling that these last two months of school will be incredibly difficult, knowing what’s ahead. Good thing I love my kids.

More details on the Nashville job coming up soon. I can’t wait to talk all about how incredible this school is, and what I’m most looking forward to leaving behind.

The Journey Continues

I spent the next two weeks furiously lesson planning for my own babies, Henderson babies, and Nashville babies, on top of trying to pull together a last-minute field trip. It was a crazy two weeks, and in the stress of it all, I began to doubt my decision. I know now it was a reaction to the stress and not a reflection of my true feelings, but at the time I was so consumed by "stuff" I had to do that I was ready to give up. There was one particular moment when I sat down in front of my roommate and said, "I can't do it."

My flight was booked for a Sunday-Monday visit to the school in Nashville. A "visit" also includes teaching a sample lesson, and I was terrified. Come visit me in my element, in my own classroom, and I have no fears. I love having visitors, especially since (for the most part) my kids love showing off for visitors. But throw me into a situation with so many unknowns and, well....watch me squirm. I spent my days working at school, then hours a night working on my sample lesson, stressing over how to make it perfect. Long story short, the Friday before I was supposed to leave for Nashville, my objective changed and my lesson was no longer relevant. For about 15 seconds, I was frustrated and felt defeated. And then I realized, hey, this means they'll have to cut me some slack, since they only gave me 2 days to plan a lesson! Even though I felt a little nervous about the sudden change, I couldn't shake the feeling that this would actually somehow benefit me.

I left for Nashville early Sunday morning, and one of my good friends from college and her husband picked me up at the airport. We spent the afternoon seeing the city--eating at a local restaurant, walking their new puppy around Centennial Park, and taking the grand tour of downtown. They were even sweet enough to run me to Target to get a few last minute supplies that I could not take on the plane. That evening, I met the principal, one of the math teachers, and the director of operations in East Nashville, right near the school, for dinner. I was nervous and a bit out of my element, but I enjoyed the conversation and a chance to meet some of the team members before my sample lesson the next day.

Monday morning, I took a cab over to the school and prepared for the day. From the moment I entered the school building, i was overwhelmed with excitement and awe. It's a small building, with only 4 classrooms, but it was warm and efficient. It was obvious from first glance that everything was incredibly organized. What I saw the rest of the time I was there only confirmed the awesomeness of the school.

I started the morning observing their advisory time, which is a chance for students to eat breakfast, get their stuff organized, and turn in their homework from the previous night. I was shocked by how self-sufficient the kids were, and how they monitored their own behavior with little direction from the teachers. By 8:10, I was on stage. My first run through of the lesson went horribly--I totally misjudged how long it would take me to teach the lesson, and the kids only had a few minutes to practice the skills on their own. The principal offered me some very honest and very constructive criticism, allowed me some time to reflect, and then asked me to go back in and teach it again to the next group. I felt much more confident the second time around, both with her guidance and my own reflections, and did a million times better. I got positive feedback from the principal, but it was hard to tell if I redeemed myself enough to be in the running. I spent the rest of the day observing other teachers and the procedures of the school, and by 12:00 was back in a cab on my way to the airport. I had fallen in love with the school and the kids, but I wasn't convinced that I had done enough to prove that I was up for the job.

That Friday, a colleague and I took 26 kids to NCCU and UNC Chapel Hill for a field trip. We had an absolute blast, and it was a beautiful day...a great way to round out a very busy week. The weekend came, and I was back to planning for my second sample lesson. The principal from Henderson was coming out to observe me on Tuesday, and then I was teaching out at Henderson on Friday. Another busy week ahead, another restless weekend.

Tuesday came and went quickly. I felt great about my observation - my kids were on point, as they usually are when they see a visitor they can impress, and a little bump in the schedule only gave me a chance to prove that I am flexible and can work under pressure. The principal left me a note complementing our classroom culture and my teaching personality/flexibility, and I knew I had done much better than my lesson in Nashville.

Wednesday afternoon, as I was driving home from work, I got a call from a 615 phone number. Immediately my heart jumped - Nashville! I answered the phone only to hear the principal from the charter school tell me she had spoken to my references, they confirmed what she thought about me from my interview, and she was hoping that I would join the team at their school. As soon as I hung up the phone, I screamed at the top of my lungs. I had a job - in Nashville! - if I wanted it. I was not "stuck" anymore. But I still had another interview to worry about.

Friday came around, and the process at Henderson was similar. Teaching a lesson, feedback from the principal, teaching another lesson, then observing. At the end of the school day, I had what would be considered a formal interview, except that it took place at Denny's, so I would say it was a bit more informal. After the questions he asked me, I wasn't convinced that I was what he was looking for (something I've learned through this process--interviewing is NOT my strength. I spend a lot of time talking in circles and trying to spit my words out). But on our drive back to the school, I mentioned that I had another offer on the table, and the mood shifted. When we settled back into his "office", he offered me the job on the spot.

Both positions that I've been offered are for 6th grade math. I would be a founding teacher at both. The salary of one is about $10,000 more than the other. One is in rural North Carolina, the other is in the heart of Nashville. Both are most if not all TFA alum and current corps members. Both have incredible school leaders that both challenge and support their staff to be the best they can be.

That means a decision is in order.....

Stay tuned.

Journey to Next Year

I tend to make a lot of spontaneous decisions in the month of February. February is when I secretly applied to Randolph-Macon six years ago, not telling friends or family because I knew I wouldn’t end up there anyways (ha). February is when I submitted my Teach For America application four years later, after only having discovered the program a month before. And this February, I submitted yet another life-changing application when I emailed my resume to 2 new open positions.

Sometime in early February, right around the time of a discouraging staff meeting that involved condescending comments from our superintendent, I hit a point where I literally said aloud, “I don’t know if I can do this another year.” It came out of nowhere. I remember speaking those words to a colleague, and subsequently hiding the feeling of shock as I heard myself say it. She casually shrugged it off as part of our daily venting routine, and I didn’t say anything else. It had caught me off guard. If you had asked me even a month earlier, fresh off of winter break, I would have said that I would be back for my third year, just like I had planned since joining TFA. I had even signed my letter of intent to return. But over the next few days after that staff meeting, I felt this itch to start considering other options. My roommate as in the process of looking at charter schools in Chicago, and I thought, “Why not?” I didn’t know much about charter schools, but what I did know sounded infinitely more appealing than another year in this county. A county where there is no support or respect for teachers. A county with issues that are constantly swept under the rug, all in the name of politics.

After an especially brutal day at school, I was scrolling through my email when I came across a job posting for a charter school in Nashville. I had seen the posting several times before, and had thought about how cool it would be to 1) work at a charter school and 2) live in Nashville, but the disappointment of that particular day motivated me to actually investigate the situation. Currently in its first year with only a 5th grade class, the school is 100% TFA or TFA alum and is looking for a team of founding 6th grade teachers. That same night, I started updating my resume and filling out the application.

The more I researched and worked on the application, the more I could taste freedom. I began to imagine life outside of this tiny town and a school where I saw no progress and no enthusiasm. I poured my heart and soul into that application, desperately wanting to join a team of like-minded teachers in an environment where learning was truly valued. Three weeks later, I submitted my resume and application, and just a day later, received an email asking me to set up a phone interview with the school leader. I was so unprepared, and felt like the interview went horribly. But before I hung up the phone, the school leader asked me to come out to Nashville to visit the school and teach a sample lesson, all expenses paid. Terrified and ecstatic, I agreed.

After finishing my application to the Nashville school, I realized that I truly wanted out of this town. And what if the Nashville job didn’t work out? Here I was, getting my hopes set on freedom, and it wasn’t a sure thing. I knew I needed to start looking elsewhere, in case the first job didn’t work out. My next turn: a 2-year old charter school in Henderson, North Carolina. I had visited Henderson before; in fact, it had been the source of inspiration for my classroom this year. I saw children who were from families and communities just like my students, but instead of being unruly, ungrateful, and unmotivated, they were respectful, hardworking, and eager. Every hand was in the air to answer a question. Every mouth was closed while the teacher was teaching. Every bottom was in a seat, every nose in a book….at lunch. I left feeling excited for a chance to bring that same level of discipline and engagement to my classroom. And I did, and it lasted for about twenty seconds. Okay, maybe a couple of weeks. Maybe even a few months. But my kids lost their steam, and I lost my will to enforce it, especially knowing that no other classrooms were enforcing the same things. Anyways, an email from the school inspired me to submit my application, and I received a phone call shortly after, asking to set up an observation and a visit to the school to teach a sample lesson. Jackpot.

I’ll leave you there for now, since it’s already been an epic entry.