The First 180 (and more):My First Year of Teaching

2006-10-11T20:47:00.000-04:00

Today, I played basketball for the first time this year with a few of my kids. As we were getting our teams together, the biggest kid tried to call another student known as "Tazz". The other student told him that he couldn't have Tazz, so the big kid said, "Fine, I'll take teach." Nice start. Weeeelllllll, it turned out to be a pretty good game when I ended up scoring off Tazz and he asked me to sign his basketball...

Deep Thoughts #2

2006-10-05T21:02:00.000-04:00

We were talking about hominids today. A student with very thick glasses asked, "How come we can't live to be a million years old?"

Riiiggghhht. I told him that he would have to ask the Science teacher, mainly in order to spread the good cheer.

Luck is Relative

2006-07-26T01:35:00.000-04:00

“I’m lucky. All of my family is alive. Mother. Father. Sisters. Brother. I am very lucky.” A young girl from Haiti said this to me the other day. She came to the U.S. a year ago this summer and was commenting on how her family has come to the States- intact.

Though the tone of her words was strictly conversational, they struck my ears in a much different manner. Her statement kept playing over and over again in my head like a skipping record. Lucky? A 12-year-old little girl, grateful that a member of her immediate family did not die of disease, hunger or violence before they left her country. She considers herself lucky.

Allow me to share one personal encounter that may shed some light on the Haitian experience. (By no means am I suggesting that this is descriptive of all Haitian people. It is simply a glimpse into Haitian life from the American perspective.) Below is a journal excerpt from the day I visited the Haitian-Dominican border:

Poverty is a sensatory experience. You can see poverty- taste, touch, hear, and smell it. I experienced all five today when we visited the Haitian-Dominican border. They warned us on the bus that it was going to be intense. Right, I thought, not knowing what to expect. As soon as I stepped off the bus, it hit me like a wave. The air was heavy, saturated by the scent of too many humans packed into too small of an area in too hot of a climate. Every breath I took in was salty and thick, complimented by a burning taste of unknown origins. I felt foolish walking in a line, clutching the backpack of the person in front of me. I felt like it made us stick out. It became increasingly apparent as we neared the border that this was the last thing that made us stick out and also, that it was quite necessary.

As we enter the heart of the market, I can hear the bartering. People are shouting the value of their goods aloud in a confusing medley of language and dialects. More disturbing to me are the quieter sounds- the distant cry of a baby, the low grumbling of a local as he glares by me, the splashing of river water as people skip the bridge altogether.

I began to feel more and more claustrophobic. I, and the snake of Americans I occupied, was clearly in the way of survival. Haitians and Dominicans, though mostly Haitians, were shoving past me to reach the border. This particular crossing is open a mere 2 days a week for no more than a few hours each day – which explains the urgency with which these people pushed to the border through the sea of human bodies.

As we stepped onto the bridge, I witnessed that most of the traffic was going towards the Haitian side. People were rushing to deliver goods to Haiti. It hit me then- Haiti was even more impoverished than the Dominican. I watched a woman, no taller than myself, briskly walk across barefoot. Perched on her head were over 10 slabs of cardboard, holding about 3 dozen eggs each. She seemed about my age, but the urgency in her step and her large, pregnant belly made her appear decades older. Survival.

A man, again about my size, pushed a cart. I honestly can’t even remember what was in it because I was concentrating on him so much. He was pushing the cart with such force that his skinny arms were straining, his veins popping out. His entire body was almost parallel to the ground as he struggled under the weight. He nearly ran us over. He did not stop or swerve. Surely, he could not afford to lose his momentum. Survival.

There appeared to be some sort of struggle behind us and as we turned, we saw something even more horrific. A tall, wide tour bus was pushing its way over the bridge, cruelly forcing the Haitians to the periphery of the bridge to complete their mission. The white passengers looked down with a mixture of indignation and fascination. When my eyes met a man wearing a large straw hat and Hawaiian shirt, I had to look away. My vision blurred. I began to breathe heavy and quick- to the point of hyperventilation. I was embarrassed and enraged.

As my counterparts snapped photos, I stood there dumbly with my camera- unsure of its ability to capture the scenes. A camera can only catch an image, but the totality of the memory and emotions will be kept intact in my mind.

In order to further understand the Haitian experience, let me also provide you with a brief (ha! me, brief? impossible.) historical context...

The “land of mountains” was inhabited by humans as early as 2600 B.C. The Arawak people lived on the island of Hispaniola (now Haiti and the Dominican Republic) way before Mr. Christopher Columbus could even say “round”. As one might expect, 1492 became a turning point in the history of the island. The Spanish invasion resulted in disease, abuse and murders which exterminated the Arawak people altogether.

Soon after, Spain ceded control of Haiti to the French. Haiti quickly became France's most economically-prosperous colony in the “New World” through its major exports of coffee and sugar (can we say plantations?).

With this influx of Europeans, Haitian society became strictly stratified. Those that occupied the lowest levels of the social pyramid, freed blacks and black slaves, revolted against the more privileged classes, the French and Creoles. Toussaint L’Ouverture, a former slave turned military officer, successfully led the revolt. The rebellion waged on- even after a peace treaty was signed and the leader of the revolt, Toussaint himself, died in a French prison. Eventually, the tenacious Haitian guerilla fighting forced the French military to withdraw from Haiti.

On January 1, 1804, Jean-Jacques Dessalines, a military genius who fought under Toussaint, declared Haiti’s independence. Haiti became the first black-led republic in history and the second nation in the Western Hemisphere to declare its own independence (second to only yours truly).

Unfortunately, the republic was short-lived. Some believe that Dessalines new post, as chief of state, was too close to emperorship for comfort. He was soon killed by rivals. Despite the reason for his demise, yet another emperor rose to power following his murder. Between 1843 and 1915, 22 absolute rulers passed the torch onto one another, none of them very effective. In fact, only one of them completed an entire term. The rest suffered the fate of many leaders who attained power through succession- they were sent into exile or assassinated by political enemies. Eventually, the people again grew tired of the empire status and the country reverted back to a republic. (If you are confused, feel free to re-read the last couple of paragraphs. Done? Yes, to confirm, Haiti was part of the Spanish empire, then part of the French empire, then an independent republic, then an empire again, and then a republic.)

Ready for the next stage in Haitian history? Dah-da-da-dah! The Americans stepped in, fearing that their economic stake in Haiti would be compromised by this revolving door of political organization. The U.S. military stirred things up for some time, but eventually pulled out in 1934. (The same year that F. Scott Fitzgerald published Tender is the Night. Coincidence? I think not…)

The Americans, like the nameless relative who brings fruitcake to Christmas dinner, left their holiday in Haiti only after bestowing gifts. A shoddy infrastructure and an exhausted economy continued to define the country of Haiti for years to come. Of course, I am not insinuating that the big, bad American government is to blame for the tumultuous state of Haiti. However, the presence of our troops did not magically solve the problems of the Haitian people. Unfortunately, foreign military occupation, no matter how righteous the motivation, is not a panacea for things like poverty, violence, and political unrest. Change, as some would say, should come from within.

In the early eighties, Haiti was labeled as a high-risk zone. Politically, a meager Catholic organization was growing. A charismatic young priest, Jean-Bertrand Aristide, fueled this change and inspired a new politically active generation of Haitians. Aristide became the president during the first free Haitian elections in 1990. Despite high hopes (recall a popular Pink Floyd jingle) the green president Aristide was unable to unite the torn country. He was ousted by a military coup in 1991, restored to power in 1994, lost to Rene Preval in the 1995 presidential elections, and then again became president in 2000. Ironically, Aristide was forced into exile after a viscous rebellion during the 2004 independence celebrations.

Some members of the international community encouraged this exile, including the United States and France. Subsequently, both the U.S. and France sent troops to Haiti to maintain some sense of order. An interim government was established. The Caribbean Community and Common Market (CARICOM, the former Caribbean Free Trade Association) decided not to accept Haiti as a member until they could prove that the government has been democratically elected. CARICOM also requested a UN investigation into the U.S. and French-backed Aristide exile. In the summer of 2004, the United Nations resumed control of the peacekeeping movement, thereby replacing U.S. and French troops.

Democratic elections were scheduled for 2005, but were postponed several times due to inadequate preparation, devestation caused by tropical storms, violence and agitation. The elections were finally held in February of 2006. Initially, it appeared as though Preval would become the new president of Haiti- the first reports stated that he had taken 90% of the vote. Many of his opponents claimed the election result had been compromised and requested a full investigation.

*********************************************************

Phew….That was a post-ful. I hope this personal experience, coupled with a historical context, helped to shed some light on why this little girl considered herself “lucky”. This constant political, social, and economic upheaval is like a relentless wave that catches the Haitian people. It sneaks up on them, turns them upside down, thrusts them into the sand, pushes them to the surface where they fight for air and then tosses them onto the hot beach, exhausted and confused, yet lying in the sweet, radiant sunshine of the clear Caribbean sky.

“I’m lucky. All of my family is alive. Mother. Father. Sisters. Brother. I am very lucky.”

You be the judge.

The Life of a First Year Teacher

2006-05-11T18:14:00.000-04:00

I was heating up my potato latkes for my lunch and went to the restroom for 1.5 minutes while they were heating up. Mind you, this is something that I do every single day. I return and the microwave is smoking- I freak out, open the window and sprint back to the room we each lunch in. Call the office and they are like, "Oh it must be the crumbs..." I'm like, "No seriously, the school fire alarm is definitely going to go off." I go back to the room with the microwave, unplug the monstrosity and open the door to air out the room. The school fire alarm starts go off.

Haven't had the experience of a modern-day school fire alarm? Let me describe this for you...

There is a fire alarm attached to the wall about every 8 feet. The alarm itself is is extremely loud and ear-piercing...the kind of noise that makes your heart start racing and gives you the chills. The alarms are, of course, complete with white flashing lights. Every set of doors in the hallways automatically close and lock from the outside. All 750 12-, 13-, and 14-year olds, teachers, administators, custodians, and lunch ladies file out of the building. Outside, it is raining and approximately 50 degrees. We are outside shivering for 12 minutes before we hear any sirens.

When we are finally summoned in, my principal does not look happy. I assume that it is because of me. Although, I am sure some of his annoyance was due to my flaming lunch, he also informs me that he had to call the fire department himself because they were not coming. Our alarm singal was apparently not reaching the station and they would have never come if he didn't call them.

Don't have the pleasure of knowing how kids react when their regular schedule is disrupted?

We return to fifth period, shivering and wet and it takes twice the regular amount of time to get the kids refocused. Meanwhile, the 200 kids in first lunch return to the lunch room. A food fight ensues and the 3 adults that monitor the lunchroom are unable to regain control. Numerous kids receive detention and some are suspended. Lunch is extended which means that 5th period, already a longer period (over an hour), is extended for another 15 minutes. During passing time, the kids are outrageous, screaming and pushing each other around. Since then, 2 fights have broken out. A student also managed to somehow crack the chair off a desk. I asked another teacher how the student was able to accomplish that and she responded with, "Ummm, I don't know, I guess he was stomping on it... "

This is, my friends, the life of a first year teacher...

Time Keeps on Slipping...

2006-04-04T23:47:00.000-04:00

Those that know me personally know that I do not have much time to post anymore given my hectic schedule. (That's okay, don't feel too bad... Our annual trip to Baltimore is happening this weekend and this year, we are staying in the same hotel as the Red Sox. GET EXCITED.)

Here are some highlights from the last week:

Won 2 NCAA pools
Kissed a dead fish in front of my school
Made more money waitressing than I did teaching

What I Did on My February Vacation: Part 1

2006-02-20T22:29:00.000-05:00

An 8-year-old and an 11-year-old beat me in Monopoly today. When they decided to join forces against me, I actually reached for the rule book. I quickly harnessed my competitive nature and told myself that it is okay for me to lose a game to a few elementary school kids (once in a great while).

(P.S. At one point, I had 3 houses each on my Park Place and Boardwalk properties... Damn.)

Leaky Buckets and Valentine's Day Dreams

2006-02-14T20:20:00.000-05:00

After a fun-filled/exhausting/raucous long weekend, I was not quite ready to come back to school today. Last night being an unofficial Sunday evening I, of course, did not sleep a bit. I could not relax my mind long enough to trick it into an even fitful slumber. 10:30... 11:20...12: 30... and just as I fall asleep my body reminds itself that, with such little sleep, I might just oversleep and I begin again... 2:30, 3:30, 4:00 and I might as well get up. I practically fall asleep in the shower as I shampoo my hair, stare blankly into my closet dripping wet for 5 minutes, finally decide on black pants and a light pink shirt (how novel for me), choke down the strongest coffee I have ever made and head out the door. After my quick half-hour commute, I enter my school building at 5:55 a.m. On my way in I am reminded by WBUR's Bob Oakes that it is indeed Valentine's Day and I silently congratulate myself on a keen wardrobe decision. I also remember that I have to prepare 2000 flower "grams" for their delivery (albeit late) tomorrow. The day passed in a blur and I was reawakened by the flower delivery guy at 2:30 when he said, "Ma'am, these flowers are probably going to die if you don't get them into water soon." Double Heh? He called me ma'am and...They were stacked up in 7 different 3-foot long cardboard boxes. Where the h does he expect me to get waterproof containers for all these stems?

By 6:15 p.m. all 1865 (Civil War, what..?) flowers were successfully attached to their proper Valentine's Day messages. Thanks to the NJHS students, myself, my co-advisor, 2 other teachers (thanks Ms. M and Ms. S!), the 5 Pizza Hut pizzas we ordered, and every single spare garbage can, recycling bin, and bucket we could get our hands on, the appropriate middle school Valentine's Day drama will ensue tomorrow.

(By the way, with every carnation I affixed, I laughed to myself that not even one of these flowers will ultimately end up in my hands. Truth be told, I purchased Valentine's flowers for myself just this past weekend and they were fabulously gorgeous. Honestly, after another 12-hour school day, all I need for this Valentine's Day is a pink night gown, Tobey, Ginger, and my comfy bed. Seriously, what else could a girl ask for...? :)

And We Shall Call Him Valentino

2006-02-13T19:54:00.000-05:00

My cousin's dog had puppies last week. Uh oh... there are still 5 cute males left and I have a school vacation coming up (perfect for training a sweet baby canine). I told my mom I was going to name my new puppy Mr. Valentine, but she insisted that Valentino was more appropriate. Do you see what's going on here...? She stopped discouraging me. Do I smell a joint-custody opportunity? I may just be a mom sooner than I think.

Warning: Possible Side Effects May Include...

2006-02-12T20:01:00.000-05:00

The last party straggler did not leave until 7 p.m. tonight (the day after our party). He watched movie after movie with us, laughed at the absurdity of the night before, and even participated in the cleaning of our apartment for a solid 8 hours today. At around 5 p.m., I inquired about the boy's name and who he belonged to. My investigation was cut short though when I realized that my fellow housemates and friends had similar questions. Sadly, when the chap finally put his shoes on and left, not one of us could remember his name.

Profound.

2006-02-05T18:38:00.000-05:00

Every day my kids have a "warm-up" to complete which helps to get them settled and focused. It is usually in the form of a question or short activity. Last Wednesday I asked kids to comment on the President's State of the Union Address. If they watched it, they had to tell me what they thought was the most important part of his speech. If they didn't watch it, they were supposed to tell me what they think the President should cover when he gives a speech to the American people. Most kids commented on the war, poverty, drugs, etc. One child wrote this:

"I would like the president to talk about the issue that is happening. Like that sneakers are getting more expensive."

Looks like I have my work cut out for me.

(Actually, this is a very genuine concern. At least he recognizes that material items like sneakers are expensive and difficult for parents to spend money on. There is a lot of pressure for kids to have brand name clothes and costly game systems like the Xbox 360. These are items that are very visible to their peers.)

Flu Season

2006-02-01T19:43:00.000-05:00

So I have been sick for about 2 weeks now. Shortly after my birthday I started to lose my voice which is usually a sure bet that I am going to get sick soon. Per usual, I kept on keeping on and then, half a month later, I crashed. I got about 3 hours a sleep Friday night and worked all day on Saturday with 5-11 year-olds. Needless to say, when I got out of that cold, dry room I was coughing like the Marlboro Man. Sunday, I could not function. Monday, I slept until 3. ( I usually get far less sleep so if my body was able to sleep this long, I was clearly not okay.) Tuesday I was reluctant to call in, but did so anyways and am so happy that I did because that extra day did wonders for my immune system.

Today is Wednesday. I took a Cold and Sinus/Stuffy Nose/Sore Throat something-or-other at 6 a.m. and the rest of the morning was smmmooooooooooooth sailing. I was an outsider looking in as I maintained an internal dialogue (much more so than usual). I was somehow juggling 20 tasks (more so than usual) while leading a multi-step, hands-on activity for my kids. In the middle of giving instructions, I would pause for a solid 30 seconds, lose my train of thought, and one of my aces would pull through with a "Ms. Hinkell, you were just saying..." In between classes was equally as blurry. I had kids hugging me and welcoming me back, asking "Ms. Hinkell, where were Monday and Tuesday?" (ummmm, would "the moon" be an appropriate answer?)

I almost reached my breaking point when, during Period 3 (my largest class), at least 8 students were asking me questions at once. Three things were very wrong with that situation:
#1: I DO NOT respond to a student unless they have raised their hand first.
#2: I had already answered the question they were asking 3 times before.
#3: They were all asking the very SAME question.

HEH? That's okay though, it only added to the absurdity of my day.

Anyhow, for those that care, I am feeling much better now. Well enough, in fact, to go to a Bruins game tomorrow night with Big Dave. Go. Team.

Ace Photographer

2006-01-30T20:18:00.000-05:00

Who thinks I can get away with it?

Picture (no pun intended) this...

I waltz in with my most photographer-y looking outfit. Perhaps a knit top over a t-shirt and a pair of black jeans (which I DO NOT own) tucked into strange brown boots (which I DO own). I will not, of course, forget my generic baseball hat with a broken brim that will shield my eyes from the bright April sun. My top-o-the-line camera (actually just a run of the mill Canon SLR- admittedly pretty sweet by my amateur standards) will be casually swung over my left shoulder and my very heavy camera bag will be slung over my right.

I will calmly walk up to Bronson Arroyo warming up (not in the teenage girl hysteria that I approached him last summer) and ask if I could take a few shots for the ummmmmmm what am I taking pictures for again? Anyhow, I skillfully snap about 3 dozen or so and approach him with my note-pad. He slyly slips me his number despite my heinous outfit, I nod to him and immediately begin to snap some pictures of Newbie Crisp. Just as I am wrapping up this particular shoot, I notice 2 blondes to my far right being escorted off the field. A few of the players mumble something about "crazy female fans" and I nod in blind agreement (obviously, I know nothing about hysterical chick Red Sox fans except being one). I am mildly horrified though when I notice that the 2 fans are looking, rather waving, in my direction.

Well, the gig is up. My real identity is discovered, I am stripped of my press credentials, and all Alex, Julia and I have is another close encounter with the Red Sox story.

Let's go all the way this year, ladies.

Imagine.

2005-12-08T20:55:00.000-05:00

(I apologize to the friends and family who have already received this email...)

Today was the 25th anniversary of John Lennon's death. My students read the lyrics to Imagine, responded to the words in a free-write and then we listened to it as a class. Period 7 is notoriously difficult- it's the end of the day, the kids are completely out of focus and I am pretty much tapped. In addition, I have had 2 new students in that class this past week alone. (Yes, I have 2 students who started school 3 months into the year.) It seems like I can never really get my lesson done with Period 7.

Today, however, was a special day. After the first stanza of Imagine, one of my most ADDed-out kids started humming. A few moments later, he started singing the words... No hell below us... Then Ms. Chatty McChatterson in the back row who is constantly talking and giggling chimed in... Above us only sky...

By the time John was singing the last stanza, all 24 of my kids were too. I was moved to tears as I heard a classroom of 12-and 13-year-olds sing, in perfect unison...

Imagine all the people,
Sharing all the world...

You may say I'm a dreamer,
but I'm not the only one,
I hope some day you'll join us,
And the world will live as one.

Ultimately, today was a good day.

Oh! I am so happy I am outta that place...

2005-11-19T19:34:00.000-05:00

That was something I heard earlier today from a woman who retired from my school last year. She gave me a sympathetic look when I told her it was my first year and preceded to roll her eyes when I responded with, "So far, so good." Her reasons (though not explicit) for this reaction might have been legitimate. She saw the community change from a traditional, mostly mid to upper-class town to a more transient, financially disadvantaged one. She said that "the 'clientele' (really, why not just say "kids" or "students") didn't know why they were coming to school in the first place" and "didn't really care anyhow". Now, though I had to bite my tongue when she was speaking, I do not think she was an insensitive teacher. Instead, my interaction with her reinforced my theory that the majority of educators (certainly not all) will eventually find it difficult to connect with their students. Honestly, how can this white, presumably financially-stable, woman genuinely relate to a group of economically disadvantaged children of color who society has taught her only to know as "hoodlums"? I wish this were not the case, but in my modest experience it certainly has been.

Should I have explained to her how different my teaching experience has been so far? Should I have told her that some of my kids have brothers and sisters older than me? Could I have told her that I think my kids respect me more because I have seen some of their favorite rappers in concert? Should I have said that I play basketball after-school with my kids to give myself some more credibility in their eyes? Perhaps I should have said that my own family is racially diverse so maybe I can relate to them a little more? Or do I just smile and nod at the appropriate times? This woman obviously cared about kids. She was a retired school teacher after all- she wouldn't have spent a lifetime in a job she hated, collecting an offensively low weekly paycheck. This is a woman who was tainted by the system. Her immediate recollections are of her past few years of teaching, when "they" started to move in. This was the latter part of her career and, as she thought of it, also the demise. Again, this woman is not representative of our entire retired teaching community. Rather, there is another factor in this scenario. I think that it is also a matter of simply seeing things in a more positive light. If you are sitting in your living room on a cold, winter day and the sun is shining in, are you going to celebrate the rays of light or complain about the excessive heat they emit? Seriously, take your GD sweater off and ignore your increasingly sweaty palms.

My students are amazing. They are smart, motivated, funny, personable, enthusiastic and eager to learn. Yes, they are also black, Latino, and Asian, some come from larger families, have brothers that are in jail, some are foster kids and have parents that do not return phone calls. But should I focus on the stereotypes or should I celebrate their unique talents and gifts? Please... I'll take that sunshine any day.

Club 312

2005-11-15T19:29:00.000-05:00

Today was the first day of Club 312. Earlier in the year, I asked kids to stay on Tuesday afternoons for after-school help. Two students came one Tuesday so far. Last week, I started calling it Club 312 and told kids that they had to sign-up for it. I also said that if we worked for a solid 30 minutes, then I would bring them all down to the gym and we could play basketball with the remaining time.

The change in name and venue did the trick. 38 kids signed-up and almost all of them came. GIMMICKS, gimmicks, gimmicks.

The kids worked on the night's homework for a solid 20 (not bad for 12-year-olds). We then went down to the gym. At first I was just kind of monitoring a few of the games and passing basketballs to kids when they went out of bounds. Then one of my fav kids started talking trash. It was on. Boys versus girls. I scored the first 8 points and it was all over from there. After 40 minutes of defending smelly 6-ft-tall kids, talking trash to adolescent boys, and taking jumshots in heels- I walked away from the court sweating and red-faced. My kids walked away thinking I was the coolest teacher ever.

Let's see if they actually hand in their homework tomorrow.

Don’t Mess with Texas (Or Me When I Have Been Up for 23 Hours)

2005-11-13T20:56:00.000-05:00

It’s 3:30 in the morning and I am en route to Alexandria, VA for the birthday party of the season. Nephew is turning 2 and niece has turned 9. I have officially been up for 23 hours. Currently, Dave is at the helm and I am riding shotgun. The passengers on this trip are peacefully resting in the back. I drove for the first 8.5 hours of the trip that really should have taken us all the way to the Wet Stone but instead, merely got us to a little town called Princeton Junction in the state we all know and hate, New Jersey. After wasting $40 in gas and unnecessary FastLane tolls, we finally got away from that cluster-ef.

It’s late. It’s early. I am exhausted and am trying to keep my eyes open so as to not abandon my pilot. I know, all to well, how awful it is to play the chauffeur to happily snoozing passengers. So instead, I am lending my support my quietly typing away on my computer. In a way, I suppose that is just as rude.

No, actually, what is rude is the excessively tattooed, black nail polish donning gentlemen in front of us on our most recent rest stop run. While patiently waiting for Dave’s Junior Whopper and Becky’s medium fry, I watched as these two slowly but surely made asses out of themselves. After incoherently muttering something about “too much vodka”, the alpha dog gracefully spilled his large fry on the already greased up BK counter. After paying the cashier with his dirty dollar bills and change, he then proceeded to scoop up all the fries that had escaped his pack and shoveled them in his mouth. GROTESQUE. His mouth was like a cesspool for all truck stop generated diseases.

We are now passing a Greyhound bus with Texas plates. I believe it is going in the wrong direction and I am considering letting the driver know of this by way of a note in my passenger-side window.

Just Another Manic Monday

2005-11-07T19:07:00.000-05:00

I am finally home from school after being gone for 12 hours. That' s right- when you consider my half-hour commute both ways, I was at school for 11 hours today. I left at 6 p.m. after finally completing my Term 1 grades. Let me explore the events of my Monday with you...

The new Superintendent was scheduled to visit our school all day. I knew that he would be floating around the school so I made sure that my room was just a little neater than usual and that I was just a little more prepared for class than usual.

Sure enough 5 minutes into 2nd period, which is my worst class behaviorally and academically, the superintendent and Principal stroll in, note-pads and pens in hand. I shake the Super's hand and offer them seats in the back of the room. The class starts off okay though I have to redirect several students- asking them to take out something to write with, getting extra textbooks from the closet because they've forgotten theirs and fielding the typical barrage of beginning of class questions. Since it's the first day of Term 2, I ask kids what our classroom procedures are and they respond by raising their hands (class participation, check-plus). I tell kids about some new rules and responsibilities for Term 2 (setting high expectations, check-plus). I then read a book to the class (check-minus).

Here's the scene: I ask the students to move their chairs to the front of the room in true storytime fashion. I introduce my favorite children's' book, Click, Clack, Moo (WHAT'S UP TTP), because its related to our topic of domestication and farming in early civilizations. The book is about cows that strike because they are upset with the conditions of the barn. They send Farmer Brown notes with an ultimatum- they want electric blankets or else. When the Farmer refuses, the cows hold an emergency meeting to address the issue. Sounds cute, right? Wrong- my school district and teacher's union are in the middle of negotiating our expired contract. Currently, the relations between administrators and the union are a bit cold as they continue to negotiate pay, health care etc. Furthermore, teachers were picketing tonight at the town meeting because we are moving into a work-to-rule situation. (For those not in the know, work-to-rule is a period of time in which teachers only work their contracted hours and nothing more. This is, of course, absurd. If teachers did not show up early, stay late, and do work at home, we would only have a 45-minute prep period a day to correct all papers, enter grades, call parents, meet with other teachers, make copies and plan lessons.) Anyhow, the climate in our district is quite tense and here I am, a first-year-teacher (obviously without tenure) reading a book about labor relations with the Superintendent and Principal in the back of my room taking notes. Anyhow, they stayed until the end of the period and waved upon exiting. GD.

Thhhheeeennnnnn....

I am walking down the hallway after my 22-minute lunch to supervise the mass of 12- and 13-year-olds coming back from the cafeteria. As I turn the corner I hear, "You f*cking bitch". I look down the hallway and see two of the girls in my next class lunging at each other. I sprint- I mean literally- sprint down the hallway in heels like I was on a treadmill. These girls are out for blood and I hate watching kids fight. Because I am not "supposed" to physically separate them start screaming in my don't-mess-with-Ms.-H voice, "GIRLS! GET YOUR HANDS OFF EACH OTHER NOW." After a few seconds, the blood-bath ceases and the girls separate. One teacher grabs one of the girls and I take the other. The girl that I am leading has a bloody, cut lip, a shirt that is ripped and hanging off her shoulder and her eye is already starting to puff up. The vice-principal is not in the office and I go to search for her. Where do I find her, you ask? Well, talking to the Superintendent and the Principal of course, standing not 3 feet away from where the altercation took place. So here is the subversive first year teacher waltzing up to the trio, interrupting and telling the VP that there is a student emergency in the office.

Phhhhheeeewwww, I walk back to my classroom, shaking my head at the absurdity of the morning. I enter my class and my kids start applauding. "Ms. H! You are so strong." "Yo- I wouldn't have tried to break that fight up." "Dude! I have never seen a teacher run like that- I didn't even know they could." "Ms. H, that was tight." Heh? I thought they would have been angry at me for breaking up their afternoon entertainment, but I guess this battle was even a little too bloody for them. Ten minutes later, the girls that got in the fight come in my classroom to retrieve their belongings, and amazingly, I manage to have them leave the room without so much as a sideways glance from a classmate. For the remainder of the day, I was getting high-fived (or at least fist-hit, "lock-it" style) by my kids.

As we like to say in my school on Fridays, "another day, another dollar draft".

Deep Thoughts...

2005-11-06T18:08:00.000-05:00

Grades closed on Friday and I gave my students the opportunity to assess themselves on their classroom behavior. I reminded them that their "Classroom Participation, Cooperation, and Respect" is worth 25% of their grade and that I take this component very seriously.

When they were done rating themselves using the behavior rubric I gave them, I said that they could flip their paper over and use the back as a comment card. I said that they could tell me anything they thought I should know about their performance in my class so far this year. Some students let me know of a personal or family issue that had caused them to be a little unfocused. Other students apologized for being disrepectful and promised to try harder in Term 2. Some students identified problem areas and set some goals for the rest of the year. Several students said that my class was their favorite because I made "learning fun" (yay...) .

Overall, I was impressed with the profound comments and moved by their sincerity. After reading a comment by a student who said that my class is the only class they have ever really cared about, I came to this student comment:

"I think lunch should be $2.75 for an extra slice of pizza instead of $3.00."

I LOVE middle-schoolers...

Hi Honey, I'm Home

2005-11-03T21:35:00.000-05:00

Whoa/Wow, it's just been so long.

I am sitting in a cafe waiting for my clothes to dry at the local laundry mat and wondering where Term 1 went. I knew that my daily life was flying by but forgot that my weekly and monthly life was also passing by at an alarming rate. Grades close tomorrow and I am celebrating my 2 month birthday as an educator.

Allow me to back up.

The First Day: I thought I was going to be extremely nervous my first day of school. Much to my surprise, I slept soundly the night before and arrived at school refreshed and ready for the first day of the rest of my life. The kids filed in, I went through my *first days of school* activities and that was that. I didn't have butterflies in my stomache and I didn't stutter over my words. The only downfall was that it was 112 degrees in my room and humid. When I went to the restroom for the only time each day that first week (never before noon), I saw a red-faced, frizzy-haired image of myself staring back at me in the mirror. I would laugh at myself and mutter that if I was teaching me, there would be no way that I would listen to me. (heh?) Anyhow, besides the excessive sweating, I was a confident, well-prepared, organized, funny and personable teacher. The rest of my first week continued like that and I marveled at how natural it all seemed. (What wasn't natural, and still isn't, is waking up before 5 a.m.)

I realized earlier today that I haven't been at all nervous about my teaching. I don't practice what I am going to say to my kids over and over again until it's perfect. I am comfortable around kids. The only time I am nervous (and perhaps a little awkward) is around my adult counterparts (by the way, I survived my first formal and informal observations). I think that's what I love about teaching. I can be my crazy, zaney self in front of my kids and they still listen to and respect me. This is the very joy in teaching- that kids like me as a teacher because of my eccentric nature.

The Kids: I cannot say enough about my students. They are funny, talented, intelligient, curious, and energetic. They are chatty, rude, disrespectful, obnoxious, and lazy. I mean, each 7th grader really has it all - rolled into one disheveled, disorganized awkward teen body in a Sean Jean sweathshirt. My classes are like the rusty roller coaster at the county fair that everyone is just a little unsure of. Period 1 is quietly inquisitive. Period 2 is always confused, lost in the lesson and yet, still talking when I am. Period 3 is full of the wicked smart kids and the wicked lazy ones. Period 5 has more absences than the local senior citizen center during a snow storm. By the time Period 7 rolls around, I am so exhausted that I am super laid back (and perhaps a little too much so). Every 47 minutes is a new adventure as the chemistry of the kids in the room (and those not in the room) continuously churns. Sure- I have "bad" kids that swear at teachers, that give me a hard time and that refuse to do work, but I try not to let it bother me. I am going to be faced with a new situation that requires my attention in about 7.8 seconds anyhow and cannot focus any more energy in the wrong direction.

My kids are from all of the globe and speak a variety of languages. I love talking to them one-on-one about where they came to the States from and what their life was like in their country of origin. I love talking to them about what moving to the U.S. was like for a nine-year-old who didn't speak a word of English. More on that later.

The Staff: The staff at my school is super supportive and I am so appreciate of my colleagues. We thoroughly enjoy our much-deserved Happy Hours on Fridays. Veiled under terms such as "Collaboration Meetings" and "Team Planning Time", the Happy Hours are our debrief from the long, arduous week of middle school drama. I have so much fun with my team teachers and only wish that we could have more structured time during the day to chat about student issues and curriculum connections.

The Disclaimer: (Regarding the positive tone of my post...) I have only been teaching, officially, for 2 months. Check in with me on June 27th when I am still in school, red-faced, sweating, and frizzy.

Ok- it's almost 9:30 and both of my alarms (hey, you never know) are set to go off at 4:30 a.m. That's okay though because tomorrow is Hawaiian Shirt Day.

Stayin' Alive

2005-10-30T21:14:00.000-05:00

To My Faithful Readers...

I am absolutely ashamed that it has taken me 2 months to post an update. That said, I will not be actually posting anything tonight because I am quite tired. Just wanted to let everyone know that I just purchased a new notebook and so can post from the comforts of my bed. This is exactly what I will be doing in the very near future.

Cheers.

2005-08-24T10:38:00.000-04:00

I was up until 2 a.m. last night doing preparations for the school year which is very strange because it wasn't entirely necessary. (I can't wait to see how late I stay up when I actually have more pressing tasks to tend to.)

Today is going to be my first real work day in my classroom. I have purchased supplies including a radio/c.d. player, maps, and wait for it... a glass candy jar filled with jolly ranchers for my kids. How teacher-y am I? Anyhow, I knew that I was going to end up paying out of pocket for supplies and materials. Sure, I will have unlimited use of paper and pencils but what student (or teacher or parent) wants to walk into a classroom with blank walls? President Bush signed the Teacher Tax Relief Act that is supposed to alleviate some of the financial burden on teachers. Actually new teachers spend more of their own money on supplies than veteran teachers. On average new teachers spend about $700 on supplies for their classroom in the first year alone! New teachers do not have the network of resources or even physical supplies that veteran teachers have established over their years of teaching. As this article points out, that becomes a further burden when you consider that new teachers are on the lowest step in the pay scale. No wonder teachers are often accused of hoarding seemingly trivial supplies like notepads and pens. Any thoughts?

Anyhow, I am going to take before and after photos so everyone can see the wonderful progress I have made. (Talk to me again in a couple of hours and I probably won't sound so cheerful.)

Wish me luck!

"Excuse me, Flo?"

2005-08-22T13:56:00.000-04:00

Last week, I attended a new teacher orientation that introduced me to my district and some of my new colleagues. It was very helpful and I am grateful to be part of a school district that considers this, as part of a New Teacher Mentor Program, to be a priority. Interestingly, there are 5 other new teachers and staff at my middle school that are about my age. I think it is great that there are others in a similar place as me- I think we can support each other quite nicely.

I also entered my classroom last week. The principal led me down the maze of hallways and when we got to my room (312) he said, "Well, it's a blank slate" and it certainly was. All the student desks were stacked on the window sills and the other materials in the room (including my desk, filing cabinet, white boards, and computer) were either empty, blank, or not set up. It was a little overwhelming and besides moving in some books, I didn't stay for very long. I didn't have the requisite caffeine level/frame of mind to get started. That said, my classroom is absolutely lovely and I am excited to get started.

Thsi past weekend, I did a fair amount of "conceptual" planning, including a diagram of my classroom and outline for the first week of school. My sister thinks I am *a little* crazy but at least I feel more comfortable and prepared to walk back into my classroom and roll up my sleeves. I also had a nice rest in the Berkshires this past weekend as I knew I would need it to gear up for the first month of school. After getting lost in Boston for 2 HOURS on Thursday afternoon on my way to see an apartment, I decided to start my ride home a little earlier than planned. (I was going to drive home after visiting the apartment but since I was unable to locate it, I just jumped on the Mass Pike and drove into the setting sun.) My time home consisted of watching the doe and her fawn in my mom's backyard that eat from the neighbors garden every night at 8 p.m., picking 16 pounds of blueberries with my dad, baking my first ever apple pie, and spending Saturday night at Tanglewood listening to the Boston Symphany Orchestra (with Yo Yo Ma). Whoa, talk about culture shock and I only had to drive 2 hours to obtain it.

Off to my canvas- more to follow...

2005-08-04T12:30:00.000-04:00

Several new words (when spoken in succession) have entered my vocabulary this week: "I don't have anything to do."

I have spent the last 5 days bidding on (and winning!) my first ebay items, treating email as if it were instant messenger, scanning through craigslist ads, and reading every article on redsox.com.

After the hurricane of being a VISTA at a D.C. non-profit and living in Northern Virginia with family for a year, my last week was strangely relaxing. No complaints here though, I definitely needed this brief time to catch my breath. This past year has come and gone...

Awkward first days of work sitting in the lobby, at the desk right next to the frequently visited company printer...

The first raucous happy hour with $.50 tacos and a waitress who basically threatened my life...

Saying good-bye to a new co-worker/friend who got the boot... (Has anyone even found out if VISTAs are allowed to be fired?)

Community resources, best practices, collaboration, OH MY!

Watching my little nephew/god-son attempt his first steps across the living room floor and then slamming into the couch with record force...

Listening as my niece read her first real chapter books (Junie B. Jones, all), falling asleep in the process, and having her tuck me in...

Halloween in Boston with the Girls and some new friends, one of which dressed as a cat to accompany my dog costume...

Christmas in Virginia with no snow but a very-pregnant sister who couldn't travel...

A 23rd birthday with great new friends at our favorite Mexican spot on the Hill...

The arrival of a very sweet little niece that further demonstrates the fact that Hinkells produce attractive offspring (ummm, maybe I won't adopt)...

Seizing the books and sweating through spring wiht my office-mates...

Spending time with the family and watching the little peanuts grow, the real reason I came to D.C. in the first place...

Nights out with the coolest class of VISTAs ever, never catching the last train home, and always ending up on the short couch...

Road-trips to Detroit, Boston, and even the 'burbs of VA...

Long lunch talks that usually left Sam blushing (or wishing he were born a woman)...

Camden Yards and the Red Sox- need I say more?

Living through a tornado, listening to live music, enjoying (and sweating profusely because of) deliriouslye, delirisouly laughing because of the heat, spending an entire weekend with 3 very special friends, all of which made this year's Falcon Ridge a memorable one...

SCHLEPPING.

The sheer ABSURDITY of it all.

Oh goodness...

Even these snapshots of this past year can't do it justice. Thanks to all of you who contributed to it. I had a fabulous time and learned a hell of a lot more about myself than I ever thought possible.

Now I am ready to teach.

Mini Gwammar Workshop

2005-07-28T15:24:00.000-04:00

I had a conversation with a friend last night and in this conversation I very vividly remembered a Language Arts lesson from my elementary school years. I remember a teacher telling us that wow was an example of a homograph...

Here is a brief refresher course for anyone who is a little shakey on their word forms:

Homonyms are words that sound alike but have different meanings like fair (just) and fair (festival). (Homophones are a type of homonym that sound alike and have different meanings, but that also different spellings like pair and pear.)

Homographs are words that are spelled the same but have different meanings like bow (and arrow) and bow (as in curtsey). Heteronyms are a type of homograph that are spelled the same and have different meanings, but that also sound different like tear (rip) and tear (crying).

Soooo, wow is an example of a homonym generally and a homograph more specifically. Wow prounounced with a long o is used in the "Wow...you better slow down!" sense and wow with the o prounounced as if in "Ow, hurt!" is used in the "Wow! You're feet are dirty."

Get the distinction?

Yay v. Yeah, Whoa v. Wow

2005-07-21T16:59:00.000-04:00

Did anyone know that there was a difference between them? I always thought that the above words were interchangeable. I recently discovered that whoa (as in “Whoa... I can’t believe you didn’t know there was a difference until now”) and wow (as in “Wow! That cheeseburger is huge!”) are different. Likewise, I just found out today that yeah (as in “Yeah, I can re-do my TPS report) and yay (as in Yay! I am so excited I found a place to live!) are also different. You certainly do learn something new everyday.

After countless craigslist searches, I have finally found a place to rest my head at night after a long and arduous day of teaching 7th graders. I am going to live in Weymouth, Massachusetts which is conveniently located 10 miles from my place of work but a little farther from Boston than I would have liked. That’s okay because the glass is always half full and friends’ couches are always clear on the weekends. Though I am not sure what type of social life I am going to have as all of the first-year teacher websites I have found describe 365 days of eating, sleeping, drinking, breathing, and dreaming about curricula, methods, classroom management techniques, committees, grading and parent-teacher conferences. So if I don't return your phone calls and emails, its certainly not because I don't love you.

I am moving mid-august and am very excited about my new home and new roommate. YAY for craigslist! What would us twenty-somethings do without it?

(By the way, does anyone have an extra bed lying around [no pun intended] that I could use?)

Knowledge is Power

2005-07-06T11:53:00.000-04:00

The concept of me being an actual classroom teacher is still sinking in. In less than 2 months I will be planning daily lessons, grading homeworks and designing tests, assigning group work and projects, meeting with parents, other teachers, and my principal, staying after school with misbehaved children, and trying to maintain some level of order in a room full of 12 AND 13 YEAR-OLDS.

Breathe, breathe, breathe. To better equip myself for this very exciting and equally as daunting "next step", I did what my sister and I do best- checked out a plethora of books from my local library. I now have in my possession some of the quintessential teaching books on the market: The Essential Conversation, Discipline with Dignity, The First Days of School, and Waging Peace In Our Schools. I really enjoy reading these texts; they give me great ideas and inspire me to begin my work in the classroom.

I have read through The First Days of School a few times, but I want some very practical, concrete pointers for the first day of school. My advantage is that I have 7th graders in a 7th and 8th grade middle school. Because they are new to the school, they won't necessarily know that I am also new. That said, if any of you out there are teachers, feel free to pass on some words of wisdom to this rookie...

Is today my birthday?

2005-07-01T09:54:00.000-04:00

(Actually, July 4th is my half-birthday.)

Spread the good news, friends. I have a job!

The woman who interviewed me on Monday called about 15 minutes ago to offer me the position.

I am (officially - when I sign the contract they are sending me) a real teacher. I no longer have to say "I am certified to teach middle school Social Studies in Massachusetts". From this day forth I can tell the world, "I am a teacher". Wow, what a great feeling. I have been working towards this for sooo long and it has finally paid off.

Not to mention, this blog can remain in existance.

Interview #1

2005-06-30T15:51:00.000-04:00

Since people have just been begging me for an update, here goes...

Last Friday (as in June 24th) I was a little stressed out that I hadn’t had anyone contact me asking for an interview. Being the procrastinator that I am, I spent the morning creating separate charts for each school that had received a resume from me. Each chart has information like district demographics, proximity to Boston, necessary contacts, and “next steps”. The project took about 2 hours and 4 sheets of paper.

I made a passing comment to a co-worker (individual who has also been referred to as my “mentor”) that I was reluctant to apply for one job in particular because I wasn’t sure if I would actually want to work there. She pointed out that I was thinking too far head, concluding with, “You are no one”. Good point, friend. Anyhow, that was a kick in the arse and I decided to be more proactive. After several emails and phone calls, I had set up an interview with a school district outside of Boston for the following Monday at 10:00 a.m. Perfect, I thought, I can drive to Boston tomorrow (as in Saturday), stay with a friend for a few nights, drive back after my interview on Monday and get home around dinner time. Well after participating in a work-related trip to the National Zoo, walking around in the hot sun looking into empty cages for 4 hours and then getting stuck in traffic in D.C. on the way home, I didn’t have the energy to drive 8 hours north. Instead, I got an early start on Sunday and arrived in Boston (Brighton actually) on Sunday afternoon. After a good night’s sleep I headed out. If you recall, I had a mini-interview with the principal during the April job fair in Boston that I thought went really well. My interview was with another member of the school community who was originally from Berkshire County. Initially I thought the interview went really well but have since started second guessing myself with “I-should-have-said-that”s and “I-should-have-mentioned-this”s. After the interview she said, “Well, I know you would never consider a job offer unless you had seen the school first so I’ll meet you over there and give you a tour”. Wonderful, after making about 8 wrong turns, stopping to ask for directions once, and taking 15 minutes to drive 2.5 miles, I arrived at the school. It is a beautiful building located on a hill. Less than 5 years old, the school has a huge library/media center and auditorium. I spoke to the principal again, met the assistant principal and briefly met other members of the school staff. After leaving, I assured my interviewer that I was very interested in the position despite all of the other school districts I have interviews with (ahem), saying that, “Randolph is definitely my top choice at this point”. She said that she would take it into consideration and call me within a few weeks. Basically, I love this school and really want to become their 7th grade Ancient Civilization Social Studies teacher. Please keep your fingers crossed/say some prayers/hang a horse shoe/pick up a penny heads up or do whatever else you can to contribute to my fortune in this arena.

Oh right, it also took me 11 hours to drive to Virginia from Boston on Monday because I hit New York City at 4:00 p.m. (genius). I had timed it so that I would hit NYC at 3 p.m. but had to stop several times and missed my ETA by about an hour. I came to a standstill about 4 exits away from the George Washington Bridge. My speedometer didn’t go over 0 mph for quite some time and it took me almost 4 hours to drive 10 miles. Sweet.

Blueberry

2005-06-13T10:10:00.000-04:00

So Friday I am driving home with my '95 Mercury Sable with 120K. The trusty vehicle has been in 1 major accident and has suffered an incident involving a large boulder that resulted in a lot of glass. I notice that the brakes are a little shakey but no worries, Big Dave has made an appointment to get the car checked out Friday afternoon. Turns out the front brakes are shot and it is going to cost close to a grand to get them fixed. Needless to say, I don't have a cool $1000. I ask the mechanic if the car could get me back down to Virginia as is. He says, "Get back down? You mean you drove this car up? You're braking on metal miss and these brakes are only going to last another couple of miles. I mean I don't want so scare you or anything." Right.

Because I will need a new car in about a month or so and instead of spending a few hundred dollars on plane tickets for my various trips home, my Dad and I starting shopping around. Jettas, Hondas, Jeeps, OH MY. After about 5 solid hours on Friday, another 6 on Saturday, and a wicked sunburn, I sign on the dotted line. (Or about 5 dotted lines with casually scrawled exes to the left.)

I am now the proud owner of a brand spankin' new 2005 Honda Civic with 29 miles on it. Dark blue, I have christened the vehicle "Blueberry". I am about to break in the rookie car in true Alyssa fashion- with an 8 hour, 420 mile RO-ad trip.

Absolutely. Fabulous.

This purchase does, however, give the whole job search concept an added urgency. I'll keep you posted.

2005-06-07T17:26:00.000-04:00

Lovely.

I Heart Pedestrians

2005-06-03T09:27:00.000-04:00

With the last post I was simply trying to supply my readers with some important (I thought) background information. An avid follower (who shall go unnamed) of The First 180 claimed that it "wasn't funny". Right. It's all fun and games until Alyssa writes a boring post.

Anyhow, I have to share something with you. On my way into work today, as I was expertly maneuvering our company car (a Toyota Corolla that sits about 1.25 feet off the ground) through wretched D.C. traffic, I had a less than friendly encounter with a pedestrian. I was the last car in the queue to make it through a yellow-turned-red light. Just as I was squeezing Adam (the car) onto the block so as to not cover the crossing walk, a woman, dressed in heels and a navy blue skirt suit, literally sprang in front of my car. She then had the audacity to turn to me, lift her umbrella and shake her head at me with a disgruntled you-could-have-hit-me look on her face.

Now I know, pedestrians have the right away. I also know what it is like to be walking around in D.C. when the rain is coming down, up, and sideways. Usually, I try my best to give pedestrians, like this pleasant peach, a break because they are outside getting soaked and struggling with inside-out umbrellas while I am in my nice warm car listening to D.C. 101. BUT the nerve of her to look at me so accusingly. Like it is so absurd to think that I didn't see her given the 15-passenger van that she was walking out from in front of. Or the fact that it was pouring rain and the Corolla's wind shield wipers only have two settings, really fast and wicked fast. Did she not notice the 3 people waiting on the other side of the street or the 2 people behind her waiting until I had at least come to a rolling stop? Whatever, I am sure that she is a very, very important person with very important things to do.

In other news, today is a FABULOUS day. The Red Sox beat the O's (#1 team in the AL East) when our beloved Papi hit a 3-run walk off homer. To quote the big man, "I don't think about the next guy. I always think about 'OK, I got to get the job done.' I believe in myself; I believe I can do it. That's all I put in my mind." Wow- if that doesn't inspire you on this rainy day, I'm not sure if anything could.

Also, the Yankees lost.

Title I

2005-05-26T14:37:00.000-04:00

I realized that I have used the term "Title I" several times without an explanation. Well, that was very un-teachery of me...

"Title I schools" refers to those schools that receive funds under Title I of the Elementary and Secondary Education Act of 1965 (ESEA). Most of you are probably more familair with the No Child Left Behind Act, which is essentially an updated version of the originial ESEA.

Title I is officially called "Improving the Academic Achievement of the Disadvantaged" and its main purpose is to improve the academic achievement of children of low-income families. Currently, about half (55 percent) of U.S. public schools receive funds under Title I.

Title I is certainly not a new concept in American education. In fact, its history dates back to 1965 when it became the cornerstone of Johnson's "War on Poverty". It was signed into law on April 9, 1965: "In recognition of the special educational needs of low-income families...Congress hereby declares it to be the policy of the United States to provide financial assistance."

Another Bite

2005-05-26T14:00:00.000-04:00

I recently received a second interview offer. Ashland Middle School is 93% white and less than 10% low income. AMS has a 13 to 1 student- teacher ratio (pretty high) with most students in the proficient range (one step below advanced) for the Mathematics and Language Arts MCAS scores. Looking on the school website, there are separate pages for teachers, students and parents and most teachers have their own class web pages. Wow... this school is on the complete opposite end of the spectrum from the other school that wanted to interview me. Now, some of you maybe thinking that Ashland would be an ideal school district for me. The reality is that all schools have a set of challenges that teachers have to face. In a Title I school, teachers face a lack of quality educational materials and low standardized test scores. In a suburban school, teachers are confronted with overbearing soccer moms and pressure from administrators.

As most of you probably know, I want to work in a school that faces the former. I am reluctant to use terms like “low-income” and “urban” here- they sound very cliché and I don’t want to sound like a naïve martyr. I just feel that I have the energy and motivation to work in such a school. Because I have experienced the parents who complete their kids’ homework and show up to every school function in my own education, I need these other experiences to broaden my perspective.

A representative from Ashland called and said that they had a 3 o’clock opening on June 2nd. (If they are setting up a schedule, they must have a fair amount of applicants, no?) After enlisting some office mates (the original blogger/J2K and my mentor) to help me make a decision, I realized that setting up an initial phone interview that may be followed up with a visit to the school would be far more effective than me flying to Beantown every time I get an interview.

One last thought

2005-05-24T14:38:00.000-04:00

I did something this morning that some may consider monumental/blog-worthy.

Drum-roll please... I took out 4 of my ear piercings (for those not-in-the-know I took out my second and third sets).

When my sis-in-law inquired about my motives, I paused.
"Because you are going to be a teacher...?" she hypothesized.
Well, yes I suppose so.

I just don't think they are doing anything for me anymore. (Which makes me wonder, did they ever?)

As I venture boldly into the realm of adulthood, I would like to reassure my parents...

Don't worry mom and dad, I'm still you're little girl. The nose stud and earth tattoo remain (one step forward, two steps back).

Not Related to Teaching

2005-05-23T10:34:00.000-04:00

Just to let everyone in on a little D.C. secret...
Madhatter is the only bar in the world that can get away with playing the following songs/artists in a row: Sweet Caroline (Neil Diamond), Love It or Hate It (50), some country song by Garth Brooks which I happened to know the lyrics to, and Smooth Criminal (old school Michael Jackson).

The Gods are Smiling...(?)

2005-05-19T17:19:00.000-04:00

I received a phone call from a school today in Lawrence, Massachusetts (about 30 miles outside Boston). The school is a Title 1 school, 95% Hispanic, 93% English as a Second Language, 97% low-income and would like to set up an interview with me....ummmm...wow. I guess I'm not in Kansas/Pittsfield Catholic Schools any more...

Wishin and Hopin

2005-05-18T18:21:00.000-04:00

Let me give you the current status of my job search...

Job Fairs attended: 1
Positions applied to: 20
Copies made: 120
Postage paid: $40
Emails Sent: 15
Internet job searches completed: Lots
Hours Spent on Above: Many

Interviews Granted: 0
Job Offers: 0

Those that know me know that I am an optimist. You ask, "Is the Job Glass have full?" I answer (with a smile), "But of course..."

Friends, I refuse to panic. I keep reminding myself that it is only May 18th @ 6:39 pm and at least one contact told me that he would get in touch with me mid to late May. (The Ides of May came and passed- still no word.) School doesn't get out for another month in most districts and I have actually heard of teachers who were hired all the way up to the day before school started in September. By this reasoning, I have many moons to go.

Still, a mentor of mine told me to be assertive. I like her style and have devised the following GP (game plan for those not in the know) to land myself a dream teaching job in the district of my choice (half full, half full, half full):

Continue to check Massachusetts DOE website, school district websites, and Boston Globe Classifieds daily
Continue to send out packets with cover letter, resume, copy of licensure, and letters of recommendation
Continue to spend Americorps*VISTA stipend on expensive paper and postage
Follow up each sent packet with an email to the principal of the school and/or the HR director of district
Follow up each email sent with a phone call
Be assertive
Keep smiling

Also, if anyone knows of any Social Studies openings in any 5-8 classroom somewhere in Eastern Massachusetts, kindly notify me.

(Happy Birthday Alex and Julia!)