So there's this unwritten universal law in the education system. It exists at every level, and welcomed or not, it permeates public school life now and forever more. Students know it, teachers abide by it, and there is just simply no way around it.
It's the Law of the Pre-Holiday Fever (PHF), sister phenomenon to Spring Fever. We're all familiar with Spring Fever-- blossoming tulips, twittering birds, perfectly-tempered fresh air, and delightfully brilliant blue skies cause children to lose focus and 'forget' to do their homework. This particular slacker-phenomenon is only slightly concerning. Spring Fever produces an ever-so-gradual decline in student productivity that slowly wanes until the last day of school on June 28th. So in all honesty, I'd feel bad defaming it, as it follows the natural ebb of the school year. Pre-Holiday Fever, the monster locked in the basement; however, occurs suddenly, on multiple occasions, at several-month intervals, and coupled with actual holiday vacation, is quite damaging to a student's year-long learning curve.
What happens is this. Vacation hypothetically starts on a Thursday.
This means students should technically be in attendance Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday.
This means students should technically be in attendance Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday.
This means students should technically be in attendance Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday.
But, for whatever reason, one-third of your students don't show up any of those days.
The other one-third shows up any two out of three days.
And the other one-third shows up all three days.
That means, on any given day, it is likely that maximum 20 out of 30 students will come to school, and let's be clear, only 10 of those actually show up consistently each of those three days. How am I supposed to teach anything meaningful?! That's problem number one.
Problem number two is that Monday morning, as these students wake up, get out of bed, yawn and stretch their legs, a light-bulb turns on in their heads and they remember that today is the first day of a very short week before a very long holiday.
They think to themselves, "awww shiiiit, I only gotta sit thru three days of skewl and Wednesday don't even count cuz its the day b4 the holiday, which means Tuesday ain't shit eitha' cuz its the day b4 Wednesday, which means I only gotta get thru 2day, Monday. Hellllzzz yeaa!!"
And then they get this crazed look in their eye because they realize that salvation is just around the corner.
And its with this crazed look that they come to school and terrorize their diligent teacher.
Problem number three is that this happens several times a year, particularly in the NYC public school district. A nice four-day taste in November for Thanksgiving, ten vacation days one month later for Christmas, then another ten in February for "mid-winter recess" (wtf, I guess I shouldn't complain), and then one more week-long stint for Easter in April. That's a lot of stoppage time, during which 85% of my students are doing absolutely nothing that even slightly resembles an educational activity. Translation: they come back dumber.
So, as a teacher, I naturally believed it my responsibility to keep my students on track. After all, I was the adult, I was the leader that they allegedly 'looked-up to,' and I was charged with motivating my students to learn. So during each week of Pre-Holiday Fever, I fought back with all my voracity. I assigned homework as usual and punished students when it didn't get done. I did not slow down the pace of my lessons and instead worked with students one-on-one during lunch if they were absent the day before. I did not loosen my reigns, and I certainly did not joke. I found it my duty to show and instill in my students the idea that school is school is school is school, and vacation is its own completely separate entity.
To me, vacation began at 3:28pm at dismissal on Wednesday, and not 1 minute earlier. However, despite all my best efforts, their 'I-Don't-Give-Two-Shits' PHF Brainwash Mode was always too powerful for me to conquer, and although lessons and homework etc. were assigned and taught on schedule, my students's brains had been on Snooze since Friday of the previous week. I was ultimately forced to re-teach the lessons that took place during the Pre-Holiday week once I had regained a full class of 30 upon return from vacation.
Now, this PHF was quite a frustrating phenomenon to me. I was frustrated that it was a lose/lose situation-- if I taught lessons as planned, they were lost on deaf ears and had to be re-taught later. But if I buckled and allowed my students some down-time as they desired, they conspicuously won the battle for classroom domination. And I was frustrated that my kids were immature (Uuughhh, why can't you just grow uuup?!), and that they could not swallow their excitement for just a couple of days, suck it up, and be productive like all good little students should.
But today as I walked home from my corporate job at 6:15pm after being the dead-last person in an office of hundreds of people, I realized something horrifying. Adults are no different! It is the Tuesday before Thanksgiving, and in an office where the average departure time is is 6:30pm and most people on my team stay until at least 7:00pm, by 5:30, almost everyone had already left. A quarter of my office has been 'working from home' or has taken off all week, and tomorrow, I concretely know of only four people other than myself who will be in the office. My guess is we'll all be out by 4:30pm.
Students are forced to go to school on these pre-holiday days by their parents. They obviously don't want to, but they have no choice-- so they show up, brain already on Stand-by. Adults don't have to do anything, really. We're adults, we make our own decisions. So most of us, instead of going through the motions like school children, don't even bother showing up at all, and if we do show up, we feel entitled to leave early. After all, its the holidays and we have other obligations, right? Everyone (including our bosses and our bosses' bosses and our clients, and our clients' clients) sighs and loosens their belts in preparation for the holidays-- we don't have teachers to hold us accountable.
I'm certainly not arguing against an adult taking a Pre-Holiday breather. I'm just saying, either my students were simply expressing their natural anticipation as apparently all humans do; or we grown-ups haven't really...grown up. Either way, I realize now that maybe I should have sucked it up and let my kids be kids after all (or at least I should have considered it).
Welcome!
- Mystery Me
- I started writing this blog in 2008, toward the end of my first year of teaching. These posts about my experiences as an NYC Department of Education teacher have been (and continue to be) assembled over a period of several years. They don't necessarily need to be read in chronological order, but my very first post, "Context" (March 2008) might be useful as an introduction into this lunacy. While most of my stories highlight the ridiculousness of being a public school teacher, I should note that I love my students and care deeply for them. So as you read, please keep in mind that I do in fact have a soul, as well as a heart; and that heart of mine brims with pride every time I think about my students' talents and breaks with pain every time another one gets screwed by the system.
November 24, 2010
November 4, 2010
Kids Say the Darndest Things
Remember that show? Hosted by Bill Cosby in the late 90's or something...
Welllll
My first year of teaching, I was thin. It was caused accidentally by a mix of stress and not enough hours in the day to squeeze in my meals. My second year of teaching, I was (apparently).... not thin. This was news to me, delivered, free of charge (except at the expense of my ego), by Kassandra.
Thank you, child.
Adults never tell you if you've gained weight. Kids on the other hand, have no qualms about it. As we were dismissing from school one day that second year, Kassandra comes up to me and gives me a hug. She squeezes me (looking back on it, I wonder if that was the catalyst), looks up and asks,
"Ms. Mystery, you pregnant?"
Flabbergasted, I respond. "What? No! What makes you think I'm pregnant, Geez Laweeezzz woman!'
Kassandra: "You look bigger than last year, like your stomach and stuff."
Holding back a tear and a fist (not sure which would have come first) I reply,
"Oh, it is probably just this baggy sweater that I'm wearing..."
I'm just trying to redeem myself here! Save my dignity from an untimely death! But no! She just won't quit!
Kassandra: "No, I don't think so, you're definitely fatter, I noticed it before too."
WHAT?! Really?!? Shot through the heart! This is just not fair, damn it-- so what if I snarfle a 99cent, packaged cinnamon roll from the bodega across the street every other day. So what if I raid my fridge immediately upon entering my apartment and consume food straight through the evening until I get into bed at 11pm? So what?! Just because she's a kid, all of a sudden its OK to say things like that? All of a sudden, an insult becomes a 'darned thing?' She shmutzes BBQ chips all over her face for breakfast in our school cafeteria, chug-a-lugs high-fructose corn syrup for lunch, and vacuums down pastelitos (like beef patties with dough) for dinner. Not to mention, her stomach-- yes her fat stomach-- hangs over her pants, giving her a gigantic Dunkin Donuts muffin top at all times, aannd her plumbers butt comes to visit the entire class at least four times a day when she bends over to pick up the pencil she dropped.
Allll that and then has the audacity to tell me I'm FAT! (Pregnant, whatever, same thing). That is NOT how shit works around here!
Kids do say the Darndest things, don't they? Asshole.
Welllll
My first year of teaching, I was thin. It was caused accidentally by a mix of stress and not enough hours in the day to squeeze in my meals. My second year of teaching, I was (apparently).... not thin. This was news to me, delivered, free of charge (except at the expense of my ego), by Kassandra.
Thank you, child.
Adults never tell you if you've gained weight. Kids on the other hand, have no qualms about it. As we were dismissing from school one day that second year, Kassandra comes up to me and gives me a hug. She squeezes me (looking back on it, I wonder if that was the catalyst), looks up and asks,
"Ms. Mystery, you pregnant?"
Flabbergasted, I respond. "What? No! What makes you think I'm pregnant, Geez Laweeezzz woman!'
Kassandra: "You look bigger than last year, like your stomach and stuff."
Holding back a tear and a fist (not sure which would have come first) I reply,
"Oh, it is probably just this baggy sweater that I'm wearing..."
I'm just trying to redeem myself here! Save my dignity from an untimely death! But no! She just won't quit!
Kassandra: "No, I don't think so, you're definitely fatter, I noticed it before too."
WHAT?! Really?!? Shot through the heart! This is just not fair, damn it-- so what if I snarfle a 99cent, packaged cinnamon roll from the bodega across the street every other day. So what if I raid my fridge immediately upon entering my apartment and consume food straight through the evening until I get into bed at 11pm? So what?! Just because she's a kid, all of a sudden its OK to say things like that? All of a sudden, an insult becomes a 'darned thing?' She shmutzes BBQ chips all over her face for breakfast in our school cafeteria, chug-a-lugs high-fructose corn syrup for lunch, and vacuums down pastelitos (like beef patties with dough) for dinner. Not to mention, her stomach-- yes her fat stomach-- hangs over her pants, giving her a gigantic Dunkin Donuts muffin top at all times, aannd her plumbers butt comes to visit the entire class at least four times a day when she bends over to pick up the pencil she dropped.
Allll that and then has the audacity to tell me I'm FAT! (Pregnant, whatever, same thing). That is NOT how shit works around here!
Kids do say the Darndest things, don't they? Asshole.
October 27, 2010
Chapter 6: The Final Pencil Battle
6. Let's Play: Inexperienced Teacher at Wit's End
(this particular event took place my first year)
It begins with dear old Jafario, an apathetic space cadet with a sweet, roly poly face and a tummy to match. I had been having issues with the kid all year. Nothing crazy, just the kinds of issues that begin innocently enough, but then slowly begin to accumulate. The kind that, as a first year teacher, you don't even realize are issues until the situation is way too ripe (rotten?) to salvage. The kind that get under your skin and stay there, eating away at you, like scabies. They fester and simmer and lie in wait, until soon enough, you realize... you want to gut the little Satan mini-me like a tuna fish.
Jafario's most bothersome issue was in fact, 'bothering'. Simply put, he could not and would not leave anyone alone. It wasn't loud obnoxious bothering; it was what you could say, bein' all up in other people's bizness. Constantly touching other students' things, asking to borrow sharpeners, erasers, passing mindless notes, playing with his tenth tech deck* (I had already confiscated the other nine....)
Not surprisingly, all the hapless fidgeting landed Jafario at a table all by himself. His desk was separated from everyone else's so he couldn't bother them. Obviously, this only worked in theory, so after a couple weeks of that, I separated Jafario even further from the rest of his classmates-- I gave him an island. On the carpet way in the back right corner of the room. Everyone else got to sit with four people to a table, facing the front of the room, backs turned; Jafario on the other hand, had to stare at their backs and manually lift and move his desk off the carpet island each time I brought the class over to sit on the rug. For him, it was like moving to Siberia. And that's where Jafario was. Siberia. Side note to all you do-gooder teachers out there who are no doubt mumbling, "that's bad teaching, you're humiliating the child and you're isolating him from his peers and from learning!" I say: 1) Oh just wait, it gets worse and 2) Fuck You. You would have run away from my school with your head on fire.
But I digress.
So there's Jafario, living in Siberia, unable to talk to anyone and thus also unable to ask for a pencil...obviously this child has none of his own. So not only is he sitting alone in Siberia, he's sitting there twiddling his thumbs, brain off--which is a separate, absolutely maddening issue all on it's own. (Note: my biggest pet peeve as a teacher is students who keep their brains on SLEEP mode and put no more effort into schoolwork than is required to breathe...)
At this point in the year I had been practicing pencil strategy #1, so I just kept giving Jafario pencils. It got to the point where he would lose his pencil during a lesson: he would have it at the beginning of math, but by the end, come time for independent work, it would magically (or perhaps coincidentally?) vanish. Where did it go? I never could figure it out. Did he eat it? Did he shove it up his ass? I am forever baffled.
So at some point, I got so fed up with this shitstain child (thank you Chelsea Handler), that I did something totally lunatic.
I got some Velcro and three long pieces of string. I put one piece of Velcro on the top right corner of his desk. I put another piece on the top left corner. I then put another sliver on each side of his desk. Then I got four freshly sharpened pencils and put the matching Velcro pieces on the pencils and soundly attached all four pencils to his desk. But what was the string for, you ask. Well my mission did not stop there. I tied one of the long strings to a pencil (we are up to five now) and taped the string to his desk, right by one of his Velcro pencils. The last piece of shorter string was tied...to a pencil... and then...uhhh.... to his wrist (this particular pencil was not sharp, I promise...although a small part of me wish it had been...razor sharp...).
Corporal punishment? Poss. But let me tell you, with seven...SIX pencils all at his immediate disposal, it was only a matter of a few days before they were all either lost or chewed up. Someone needs to invent a word for 'punishment to teacher caused my disobedient, sadistic children'.
Pros: Quite an amusing experiment at the expense of an extremely annoying bowling ball of a child.
Cons: Requires amounts of Velcro and string that I, as only one individual, cannot realistically supply.
Failed: What else can I possibly do?!? What Else?!
I GIVE UP, DAMN IT!
* It's easier to explain a tech deck through a picture, rather than words:
(this particular event took place my first year)
It begins with dear old Jafario, an apathetic space cadet with a sweet, roly poly face and a tummy to match. I had been having issues with the kid all year. Nothing crazy, just the kinds of issues that begin innocently enough, but then slowly begin to accumulate. The kind that, as a first year teacher, you don't even realize are issues until the situation is way too ripe (rotten?) to salvage. The kind that get under your skin and stay there, eating away at you, like scabies. They fester and simmer and lie in wait, until soon enough, you realize... you want to gut the little Satan mini-me like a tuna fish.
Jafario's most bothersome issue was in fact, 'bothering'. Simply put, he could not and would not leave anyone alone. It wasn't loud obnoxious bothering; it was what you could say, bein' all up in other people's bizness. Constantly touching other students' things, asking to borrow sharpeners, erasers, passing mindless notes, playing with his tenth tech deck* (I had already confiscated the other nine....)
Not surprisingly, all the hapless fidgeting landed Jafario at a table all by himself. His desk was separated from everyone else's so he couldn't bother them. Obviously, this only worked in theory, so after a couple weeks of that, I separated Jafario even further from the rest of his classmates-- I gave him an island. On the carpet way in the back right corner of the room. Everyone else got to sit with four people to a table, facing the front of the room, backs turned; Jafario on the other hand, had to stare at their backs and manually lift and move his desk off the carpet island each time I brought the class over to sit on the rug. For him, it was like moving to Siberia. And that's where Jafario was. Siberia. Side note to all you do-gooder teachers out there who are no doubt mumbling, "that's bad teaching, you're humiliating the child and you're isolating him from his peers and from learning!" I say: 1) Oh just wait, it gets worse and 2) Fuck You. You would have run away from my school with your head on fire.
But I digress.
So there's Jafario, living in Siberia, unable to talk to anyone and thus also unable to ask for a pencil...obviously this child has none of his own. So not only is he sitting alone in Siberia, he's sitting there twiddling his thumbs, brain off--which is a separate, absolutely maddening issue all on it's own. (Note: my biggest pet peeve as a teacher is students who keep their brains on SLEEP mode and put no more effort into schoolwork than is required to breathe...)
At this point in the year I had been practicing pencil strategy #1, so I just kept giving Jafario pencils. It got to the point where he would lose his pencil during a lesson: he would have it at the beginning of math, but by the end, come time for independent work, it would magically (or perhaps coincidentally?) vanish. Where did it go? I never could figure it out. Did he eat it? Did he shove it up his ass? I am forever baffled.
So at some point, I got so fed up with this shitstain child (thank you Chelsea Handler), that I did something totally lunatic.
I got some Velcro and three long pieces of string. I put one piece of Velcro on the top right corner of his desk. I put another piece on the top left corner. I then put another sliver on each side of his desk. Then I got four freshly sharpened pencils and put the matching Velcro pieces on the pencils and soundly attached all four pencils to his desk. But what was the string for, you ask. Well my mission did not stop there. I tied one of the long strings to a pencil (we are up to five now) and taped the string to his desk, right by one of his Velcro pencils. The last piece of shorter string was tied...to a pencil... and then...uhhh.... to his wrist (this particular pencil was not sharp, I promise...although a small part of me wish it had been...razor sharp...).
Corporal punishment? Poss. But let me tell you, with seven...SIX pencils all at his immediate disposal, it was only a matter of a few days before they were all either lost or chewed up. Someone needs to invent a word for 'punishment to teacher caused my disobedient, sadistic children'.
Pros: Quite an amusing experiment at the expense of an extremely annoying bowling ball of a child.
Cons: Requires amounts of Velcro and string that I, as only one individual, cannot realistically supply.
Failed: What else can I possibly do?!? What Else?!
I GIVE UP, DAMN IT!
* It's easier to explain a tech deck through a picture, rather than words:
 | ||||
| Tech deck, a.k.a. annoying mini skateboard. The inventor should be fined and spanked. |
October 19, 2010
Pencils. Simple concept, right?
Wrong.
"Ms. Mystery, I can't find my pencil!"
"Ms. Mystery, she stole my pencil!"
"Ms. Mystery, I don't have a pencil!"
"Ms. Mystery, can I go sharpen my pencil?"
"Ms. Mystery, do you have an extra pencil?"
No pencil this, no pencil that, nopencilnopencilnopencilnopencil...AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!
Let me tell you, I have tried every possible variation of classroom pencil management ever created by man. Its a perpetual daily war and-- while I might win a daily battle or two-- I ALWAYS lose the war.
Please see below a list and brief summary of several of my tested (and failed) pencil management strategies:
1. Let's Play: Nice Teacher- an infinite supply of pencils at students' disposal.
Self explanatory- they ask, I give, period.
Pros: They always have pencils!
Cons: They never bring their own, they rely on me, and my students treat them like shit (i.e. chew on them, pick them apart, shred them, step on them, throw them away, break them in half, cut the wood part so all that's left is the lead inside, pull off the eraser...)because they know that no matter what, another one will magically appear.
Failed: Too many trees sacrificed.
2. Let's Play: Egalitarian Teacher- trade a pencil for a ticket.
In this version, I use my classroom reward tickets (which are given out for good behavior, then 'cashed in' at the end of the month for a small prize) as trading pawns for pencils. If a student is in need of a pencil, they must sacrifice an earned ticket, and I will supply the perpetrator with a 'loaner' pencil. If the student returns the 'loaner' at the end of the day, their ticket is returned to them.
Pros: It worked well with responsible students. They used this system as it was supposed to be, a borrow-loan-return system.
Cons: The other 27 students in my class 'borrowed' pencils without ever returning them, thus losing all their tickets and consequently disqualifying them from a monthly prize. Now my entire classroom management system was at risk of utter collapse.
Failed: Too many trees sacrificed, risk of anarchy too high.
3. Let's Play: Community Sharing- ask your neighbor first.
If a student does not have a pencil, they are required to ask the students sitting at their table. If at that point, there is still no extra pencil to be spared, only then is the student allowed to ask me for a pencil.
Pros: The intervals between each, "Ms. Mystery, I don't have a pencil" are increased by about 4 minutes.
Cons: The once-silent intervals between each, "Ms. Mystery, do you have a pencil?" has now evolved in to a constant stream of whipsers:
"Yo, Cruz, you got a pencil?" --"No."
"Oh Ok. Yo, Braiden, you got a pencil?" --"No."
"Oh, ok. Yo, Paula, you got a pencil?" --"You can have this one."
"Thanks. You got a sharpener?" --"No, Jamal does."
"Yo, Jamal, can I use your sharpener?" --"I don't have it, Mildred took it."
"Oh, yo, Mildred, gimme that sharpener when you're done."
(Sharpener thrown across room--> sharpener confiscated--> requisite, "Ms. Mystery, do you have a pencil?")
Failed: Self explanatory.
4. Let's Play: Ostracize the Pencil-less Student- make student write in big fat ugly red (or brown, because honestly, no one I've ever met likes brown, especiallly not a child) marker.
This pencil management method requires setting groundwork first. On the very first day of school, as the teacher explains policies, rules, procedures, etc, Pencil Policy is always a topic of interest for students and teacher alike. In this scenario, the teacher (me) explains that the pencil policy will be one in which students who do not have a pencil MUST use a despicable red (or brown) marker. I proceed to make a ridiculously grotesque scene of how much of a loserrrr a child would be if required to use a red(brown) marker. I demonstrate its ugliness, I act out a scene with a volunteer, making fun of the student and encouraging others to make fun of the student with the red marker as well. I explain how hideous their Best Work Portfolio will look with ugly fat brown marker writing in it. I remind them that it is my policy to make students redo ugly work....
After this groundwork is set, I continue to make a big scene any time a pencil-less student is in need of a fat ugly red marker.
Pros: Highly effective during the first month of school when a)students still have the pencils they bought at the Staples Back-to-School Sale and b)students still want to make a good impression on me.
Cons: As the year progresses and kids become apathetic, they begin to see writing with brown (or red) markers as inexplicably pleasurable. In fact, it becomes 'cool.' Students even go so far as to pull out a marker from their desk before considering using a pencil.
Failed: 5th grade papers begin to look like kindergarten drawings
5. Let's Play: Mean Teacher- I have no pencils to give you, no exceptions.
Like Strategy #1, this is self-explanatory- don't say a word to me about pencils because you sure as hell aren't getting one (or any writing utensil) from me. Period.
Pros: Students learn to be slightly more responsible for their own pencils, as they begin to understand that if they run out of pencils, they are screwed. They don't annoy me, and they don't disrupt class to ask to borrow a pencil from their peers either, because no one is willing to part with this hot commodity and risk losing it forever.
Cons: The jackasses of the class never have pencils and never care. They just sit there. Really frustrating to look at. I usually bend and begrudgingly give them something (anything) to write with, while scolding them. I can't standdd it when a student is sitting there doing nothing when they should be doing something. It's maybe one of the most aggravating things to witness as a teacher. Furthermore, the semi-jackasses start bringing in pens instead, claiming they don't have a pencil. Also frustrating, as they always screw up and can never erase. Results in extremely ugly work or extremely late work due to tons of rewrites.
Failed: Jackasses and semi-jackasses win this one.
and Strategy #6.... the most creative, most lunatic strategy I have ever tried...happened only once, used with only one particular student...only in my first year...possibly because it was so scandalous I refused resurrect it in the future...will be continued in my next post....
"Ms. Mystery, I can't find my pencil!"
"Ms. Mystery, she stole my pencil!"
"Ms. Mystery, I don't have a pencil!"
"Ms. Mystery, can I go sharpen my pencil?"
"Ms. Mystery, do you have an extra pencil?"
No pencil this, no pencil that, nopencilnopencilnopencilnopencil...AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!
Let me tell you, I have tried every possible variation of classroom pencil management ever created by man. Its a perpetual daily war and-- while I might win a daily battle or two-- I ALWAYS lose the war.
Please see below a list and brief summary of several of my tested (and failed) pencil management strategies:
1. Let's Play: Nice Teacher- an infinite supply of pencils at students' disposal.
Self explanatory- they ask, I give, period.
Pros: They always have pencils!
Cons: They never bring their own, they rely on me, and my students treat them like shit (i.e. chew on them, pick them apart, shred them, step on them, throw them away, break them in half, cut the wood part so all that's left is the lead inside, pull off the eraser...)because they know that no matter what, another one will magically appear.
Failed: Too many trees sacrificed.
2. Let's Play: Egalitarian Teacher- trade a pencil for a ticket.
In this version, I use my classroom reward tickets (which are given out for good behavior, then 'cashed in' at the end of the month for a small prize) as trading pawns for pencils. If a student is in need of a pencil, they must sacrifice an earned ticket, and I will supply the perpetrator with a 'loaner' pencil. If the student returns the 'loaner' at the end of the day, their ticket is returned to them.
Pros: It worked well with responsible students. They used this system as it was supposed to be, a borrow-loan-return system.
Cons: The other 27 students in my class 'borrowed' pencils without ever returning them, thus losing all their tickets and consequently disqualifying them from a monthly prize. Now my entire classroom management system was at risk of utter collapse.
Failed: Too many trees sacrificed, risk of anarchy too high.
3. Let's Play: Community Sharing- ask your neighbor first.
If a student does not have a pencil, they are required to ask the students sitting at their table. If at that point, there is still no extra pencil to be spared, only then is the student allowed to ask me for a pencil.
Pros: The intervals between each, "Ms. Mystery, I don't have a pencil" are increased by about 4 minutes.
Cons: The once-silent intervals between each, "Ms. Mystery, do you have a pencil?" has now evolved in to a constant stream of whipsers:
"Yo, Cruz, you got a pencil?" --"No."
"Oh Ok. Yo, Braiden, you got a pencil?" --"No."
"Oh, ok. Yo, Paula, you got a pencil?" --"You can have this one."
"Thanks. You got a sharpener?" --"No, Jamal does."
"Yo, Jamal, can I use your sharpener?" --"I don't have it, Mildred took it."
"Oh, yo, Mildred, gimme that sharpener when you're done."
(Sharpener thrown across room--> sharpener confiscated--> requisite, "Ms. Mystery, do you have a pencil?")
Failed: Self explanatory.
4. Let's Play: Ostracize the Pencil-less Student- make student write in big fat ugly red (or brown, because honestly, no one I've ever met likes brown, especiallly not a child) marker.
This pencil management method requires setting groundwork first. On the very first day of school, as the teacher explains policies, rules, procedures, etc, Pencil Policy is always a topic of interest for students and teacher alike. In this scenario, the teacher (me) explains that the pencil policy will be one in which students who do not have a pencil MUST use a despicable red (or brown) marker. I proceed to make a ridiculously grotesque scene of how much of a loserrrr a child would be if required to use a red(brown) marker. I demonstrate its ugliness, I act out a scene with a volunteer, making fun of the student and encouraging others to make fun of the student with the red marker as well. I explain how hideous their Best Work Portfolio will look with ugly fat brown marker writing in it. I remind them that it is my policy to make students redo ugly work....
After this groundwork is set, I continue to make a big scene any time a pencil-less student is in need of a fat ugly red marker.
Pros: Highly effective during the first month of school when a)students still have the pencils they bought at the Staples Back-to-School Sale and b)students still want to make a good impression on me.
Cons: As the year progresses and kids become apathetic, they begin to see writing with brown (or red) markers as inexplicably pleasurable. In fact, it becomes 'cool.' Students even go so far as to pull out a marker from their desk before considering using a pencil.
Failed: 5th grade papers begin to look like kindergarten drawings
5. Let's Play: Mean Teacher- I have no pencils to give you, no exceptions.
Like Strategy #1, this is self-explanatory- don't say a word to me about pencils because you sure as hell aren't getting one (or any writing utensil) from me. Period.
Pros: Students learn to be slightly more responsible for their own pencils, as they begin to understand that if they run out of pencils, they are screwed. They don't annoy me, and they don't disrupt class to ask to borrow a pencil from their peers either, because no one is willing to part with this hot commodity and risk losing it forever.
Cons: The jackasses of the class never have pencils and never care. They just sit there. Really frustrating to look at. I usually bend and begrudgingly give them something (anything) to write with, while scolding them. I can't standdd it when a student is sitting there doing nothing when they should be doing something. It's maybe one of the most aggravating things to witness as a teacher. Furthermore, the semi-jackasses start bringing in pens instead, claiming they don't have a pencil. Also frustrating, as they always screw up and can never erase. Results in extremely ugly work or extremely late work due to tons of rewrites.
Failed: Jackasses and semi-jackasses win this one.
and Strategy #6.... the most creative, most lunatic strategy I have ever tried...happened only once, used with only one particular student...only in my first year...possibly because it was so scandalous I refused resurrect it in the future...will be continued in my next post....
March 11, 2010
A Small Part of Me Dies almost Every Single Day
It's Thursday afternoon, and I have a headache. Report cards were due yesterday, my student teacher wants me to find a student to take care of her caged pet bunnies, and my gym's been unexpectedly closed for the third day in a row. In an hour, I have to go to 'happy'hour with people I don't want to talk to.
What's the real problem here? The real problem is simple: I bust my balls to prepare my kids for the test they must pass in order to move to 6th grade, I stress myself out because I'm thinking of all the things my kids need to know and don't, I can't sleep at night because I'm trying to come up with better lessons to teach; and on a scale of 1-10, their average measurement of motivation and interest in test-prep (my school's been in a state of martial law- test prep from 8:30am - 3:30pm, one multiple choice question after another, after another, after another, after another...its never-ending, really) would be a big fat 0. I certainly don't blame them for it, but it just does not make my task any easier.
Yesterday afternoon I made an announcement to my class. I told them, "I guarantee you that tomorrow morning, I'll be checking your writing homework. And if you don't have it completed, I guarantee you that I will give you detention during recess to do it." One would think that my kids would be motivated to complete their homework, since I gave them a direct warning of the guaranteed consequences to come. One would assume that maybe only a couple of the more asinine students would neglect to fulfill the task for various reasons. But today, after I had checked every student's writing notebook, exactly HALF of my class had not completed the assignment.
Becky claimed she did 'do' the writing homework. What she really 'did' was she rewrote, word for word, three paragraphs from the story about which they were supposed to write a personal opinion/reflection piece.
Tanaya claimed her Nanna made her erase it all. Yesterday, she claimed her Nanna ripped the pages out. Tomorrow, she'll probably claim her Nanna ate her homework.
Another student later complained of not being able to finish his math homework because he didn't 'get' it. The homework assignment had been to list the factors of certain numbers. We had spent two full weeks on this topic in late September- early October, and then another three days reviewing it earlier this week. Everyone else's in-class work showed me they thought it was easy-peasy. It's odd he couldn't get it- I had noticed him writing uncharacteristically furiously in his math notebook during math class this Tuesday- Oh wait, that's right, he was shading in bubble letters that spelled his name instead of doing the practice problems. Hmmmm Jitobi, I wonder WHY you didn't 'get' it?
What's the real problem here? The real problem is simple: I bust my balls to prepare my kids for the test they must pass in order to move to 6th grade, I stress myself out because I'm thinking of all the things my kids need to know and don't, I can't sleep at night because I'm trying to come up with better lessons to teach; and on a scale of 1-10, their average measurement of motivation and interest in test-prep (my school's been in a state of martial law- test prep from 8:30am - 3:30pm, one multiple choice question after another, after another, after another, after another...its never-ending, really) would be a big fat 0. I certainly don't blame them for it, but it just does not make my task any easier.
Yesterday afternoon I made an announcement to my class. I told them, "I guarantee you that tomorrow morning, I'll be checking your writing homework. And if you don't have it completed, I guarantee you that I will give you detention during recess to do it." One would think that my kids would be motivated to complete their homework, since I gave them a direct warning of the guaranteed consequences to come. One would assume that maybe only a couple of the more asinine students would neglect to fulfill the task for various reasons. But today, after I had checked every student's writing notebook, exactly HALF of my class had not completed the assignment.
Becky claimed she did 'do' the writing homework. What she really 'did' was she rewrote, word for word, three paragraphs from the story about which they were supposed to write a personal opinion/reflection piece.
Tanaya claimed her Nanna made her erase it all. Yesterday, she claimed her Nanna ripped the pages out. Tomorrow, she'll probably claim her Nanna ate her homework.
Another student later complained of not being able to finish his math homework because he didn't 'get' it. The homework assignment had been to list the factors of certain numbers. We had spent two full weeks on this topic in late September- early October, and then another three days reviewing it earlier this week. Everyone else's in-class work showed me they thought it was easy-peasy. It's odd he couldn't get it- I had noticed him writing uncharacteristically furiously in his math notebook during math class this Tuesday- Oh wait, that's right, he was shading in bubble letters that spelled his name instead of doing the practice problems. Hmmmm Jitobi, I wonder WHY you didn't 'get' it?
February 19, 2010
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