Wednesday, October 28, 2009
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
Why I hate living in NYC...
4:00--Mean janitor kicks me out of my classroom, telling me to shut my window like he's preemptively scolding me for not doing it.
4:05--Begin walk to the 2 stop near my school, lugging giant duffel bag that I've been bringing my things to school in every day this week.
4:20--Realize that I have seriously underestimated how far away the subway stop is.
4:30--Arrive at subway stop and walk up 2 long flights of stairs.
4:35--Turn around and walk back down the stairs, because I didn't read the sign explaining that that was the Bronx-bound side of the track.
4:40--Hear the train coming and sprint up the 2 flights of stairs on the other side of the street.
4:42--Panic because the announcer called the train a 2 train, but all the signs inside and outside say 5.
4:50--The train stops between stations. The conductor demands that we be patient while the train people work out some problem with the train ahead of us.
5:00--Continue waiting.
5:10--Continue waiting. Start having to pee.
5:15--Finally begin moving.
5:30--Arrive at 96th st. Sprint down and up the stairs to get to the other platform where the 1 train just arrived.
5:35--Wait. Train doors remain open and people keep pushing their way in. Conductor does not explain what the problem is. I am trapped under the armpit of a very tall man wearing a tank top. And now I REALLY have to pee.
5:45--Finally begin moving.
5:55--Arrive at destination and begin walk to Bank St. Book Store, still lugging giant duffel bag. Park bag behind bookshelf and beg to use the bathroom.
6:00--Discover that they are out of all the popsicle sticks shaped like people and the horizontal pocket charts. The only welcome displays they have left are children carrying apples that spell out the word "Welcome." It's the same display I used last September, then threw out in June because I thought it was stupid.
6:10--Pick up duffel bag and pay $12 for stupid welcome display. It is approximately 2 feet wide and 1 foot long...and the book store people say they don't have a bag big enough for it. I carry it awkwardly in 1 hand, and the duffel bag over the other shoulder.
6:15--Wait for train to Times Square, then squeeze myself and duffel bag into overcrowded train.
6:20--Get stuck walking behind really slow lady. See N train arrive, doors open and doors close, all the while trying to get out from behind her so I can run across the platform, down the tracks and get on the train. Fail.
6:25--Q train arrives.
6:30--R train arrives.
6:35--N train FINALLY arrives. Man in a suit goes up to the door. Man in a baseball cap begins screaming curse words at him. I guess cap man was mad because suit man cut in front of him... They both continue cursing and screaming at each other until 59th & Lex.
6:40--Tall girl with curly hair gets on the train and leans her whole back against the pole in front of me. There is nowhere for me to hold on, except right behind her neck, and her curly hair is all over my hand.
6:45--Arrive at Queensboro Plaza. Forget that I am supposed to get off to go pick up the UPS package that they couldn't deliver because I live in an apartment building with a tiny mailbox.
6:50--There are finally seats available on the train, and, just as I am moving my duffel bag over so I can sit in one, a mean fat man squeezes behind me and takes it.
6:52--Try to email my friend to say that I feel sick and can't go to a play with her tonight. Train jolts and, since I still can't hold onto the pole in front of me, I jerk backwards and accidentally send the email before finishing it.
7:00--Lug giant duffel bag off the train.
7:07--Check mailbox and see that the postal service attempted to deliver a package, but couldn't leave it because of the previously described apartment building/mailbox problem. They ask me to come pick it up 11 blocks away.
7:10--Collapse on the couch, throwing my duffel bag and welcome display to the floor. Decide to share my misery with the world.
4:05--Begin walk to the 2 stop near my school, lugging giant duffel bag that I've been bringing my things to school in every day this week.
4:20--Realize that I have seriously underestimated how far away the subway stop is.
4:30--Arrive at subway stop and walk up 2 long flights of stairs.
4:35--Turn around and walk back down the stairs, because I didn't read the sign explaining that that was the Bronx-bound side of the track.
4:40--Hear the train coming and sprint up the 2 flights of stairs on the other side of the street.
4:42--Panic because the announcer called the train a 2 train, but all the signs inside and outside say 5.
4:50--The train stops between stations. The conductor demands that we be patient while the train people work out some problem with the train ahead of us.
5:00--Continue waiting.
5:10--Continue waiting. Start having to pee.
5:15--Finally begin moving.
5:30--Arrive at 96th st. Sprint down and up the stairs to get to the other platform where the 1 train just arrived.
5:35--Wait. Train doors remain open and people keep pushing their way in. Conductor does not explain what the problem is. I am trapped under the armpit of a very tall man wearing a tank top. And now I REALLY have to pee.
5:45--Finally begin moving.
5:55--Arrive at destination and begin walk to Bank St. Book Store, still lugging giant duffel bag. Park bag behind bookshelf and beg to use the bathroom.
6:00--Discover that they are out of all the popsicle sticks shaped like people and the horizontal pocket charts. The only welcome displays they have left are children carrying apples that spell out the word "Welcome." It's the same display I used last September, then threw out in June because I thought it was stupid.
6:10--Pick up duffel bag and pay $12 for stupid welcome display. It is approximately 2 feet wide and 1 foot long...and the book store people say they don't have a bag big enough for it. I carry it awkwardly in 1 hand, and the duffel bag over the other shoulder.
6:15--Wait for train to Times Square, then squeeze myself and duffel bag into overcrowded train.
6:20--Get stuck walking behind really slow lady. See N train arrive, doors open and doors close, all the while trying to get out from behind her so I can run across the platform, down the tracks and get on the train. Fail.
6:25--Q train arrives.
6:30--R train arrives.
6:35--N train FINALLY arrives. Man in a suit goes up to the door. Man in a baseball cap begins screaming curse words at him. I guess cap man was mad because suit man cut in front of him... They both continue cursing and screaming at each other until 59th & Lex.
6:40--Tall girl with curly hair gets on the train and leans her whole back against the pole in front of me. There is nowhere for me to hold on, except right behind her neck, and her curly hair is all over my hand.
6:45--Arrive at Queensboro Plaza. Forget that I am supposed to get off to go pick up the UPS package that they couldn't deliver because I live in an apartment building with a tiny mailbox.
6:50--There are finally seats available on the train, and, just as I am moving my duffel bag over so I can sit in one, a mean fat man squeezes behind me and takes it.
6:52--Try to email my friend to say that I feel sick and can't go to a play with her tonight. Train jolts and, since I still can't hold onto the pole in front of me, I jerk backwards and accidentally send the email before finishing it.
7:00--Lug giant duffel bag off the train.
7:07--Check mailbox and see that the postal service attempted to deliver a package, but couldn't leave it because of the previously described apartment building/mailbox problem. They ask me to come pick it up 11 blocks away.
7:10--Collapse on the couch, throwing my duffel bag and welcome display to the floor. Decide to share my misery with the world.
Monday, May 11, 2009
NYSESLAT
The kids had to take the NYSESLAT (testing their mastery of English) last week... so many issues, such as NOT BEING ABLE TO READ HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH NOT KNOWING ENGLISH and SECOND GRADERS SHOULD NOT BE TAKING THE SAME TEST AS FOURTH GRADERS. However, it wasn't all bad news. A. came up with a hilarious essay...what would you give it on a scale from 0-4?
Directions: Write an essay about why oceans are important to people and how people can help keep the oceans clean.
The oceans are safe because many reasons people keep the ocean clean. The ocean are important because many people clean the ocean. Some fish have spots. Some fish are different. Some people thow trash ervywhere. And when they thow trash ervywhere it looks very ugly and not nice that why people clean there homes and the ocean too. Some people from other places helps people to clean their house because people not want to not leaves trash on their house or homes. Sharks eat people because sharks likes meet from peoples. Sharks eat people because people do something bad. When people are mean sharks eat peoples because sharks are very very mean. When people are doing some thing to sharks people eat some people and their mom crys. And when sharks eat peoples because people don't want to eat them. Fish are very nice. Fish likes to eat because fish want get fat. Baby fish want to eat some food. That is why the ocean is clean.
Directions: Write an essay about why oceans are important to people and how people can help keep the oceans clean.
The oceans are safe because many reasons people keep the ocean clean. The ocean are important because many people clean the ocean. Some fish have spots. Some fish are different. Some people thow trash ervywhere. And when they thow trash ervywhere it looks very ugly and not nice that why people clean there homes and the ocean too. Some people from other places helps people to clean their house because people not want to not leaves trash on their house or homes. Sharks eat people because sharks likes meet from peoples. Sharks eat people because people do something bad. When people are mean sharks eat peoples because sharks are very very mean. When people are doing some thing to sharks people eat some people and their mom crys. And when sharks eat peoples because people don't want to eat them. Fish are very nice. Fish likes to eat because fish want get fat. Baby fish want to eat some food. That is why the ocean is clean.
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
The newest fad
No, I have not yet contracted the swine flu, although half my class is Mexican, 7 students were absent yesterday, and 3 experienced flu-like symptoms all weekend but their parents made them come to school anyway.
In other news, kids like the strangest shit. I guess I vaguely remember that aspect of childhood...the randomest things become precious treasures. Right now, they are obsessed with dryer sheets. They (I assume) steal them from their apartments, bring them to school in their backpacks, slip them into their desks, and sneak sniffs when they think I'm not looking. The ones with the dryer sheets are the popular ones--everyone wants to be their friend. And if a dryer-sheet-kid finds a non-dryer-sheet-kid worthy, s/he'll secretly pass the dryer sheet over and let the chosen friend smell it for a while.
I haven't figured out my official teacher policy on this new practice, so I haven't actually punished any sniffers or taken any dryer sheets away. Really, my only response has been to roll my eyes. And call them weirdos under my breath.
In other news, kids like the strangest shit. I guess I vaguely remember that aspect of childhood...the randomest things become precious treasures. Right now, they are obsessed with dryer sheets. They (I assume) steal them from their apartments, bring them to school in their backpacks, slip them into their desks, and sneak sniffs when they think I'm not looking. The ones with the dryer sheets are the popular ones--everyone wants to be their friend. And if a dryer-sheet-kid finds a non-dryer-sheet-kid worthy, s/he'll secretly pass the dryer sheet over and let the chosen friend smell it for a while.
I haven't figured out my official teacher policy on this new practice, so I haven't actually punished any sniffers or taken any dryer sheets away. Really, my only response has been to roll my eyes. And call them weirdos under my breath.
Friday, April 24, 2009
2 M. Updates
1) He pooped all over himself, his chair, and the floor by his desk. He had been out of school for a while with "stomach problems," but he'd been back for about a week. M. farts a lot and the kids are always complaining that he stinks, so I thought nothing of it when, on Wednesday, they told me something smelled. Soon thereafter, M. called to me that his stomach was really hurting and I sent him to the nurse (cautioning him that, if he was down there for more than a few minutes, he should meet us at lunch because we wouldn't be in the classroom anymore). After dropping off the class, 2 other teachers came up to me, furious, yelling that one of my kids had shat on himself and that the nurse sent him to wander back upstairs, through the halls, in search of his class. Eventually M. appeared and I saw that his entire shirt and pants were covered. EW! He had the slip that the nurse had given him with her recommended treatment -- "Child should be allowed to eat an early lunch." As soon as I got him settled in the office, waiting for his mom to come for him, I returned to my room to find that he had left his chair and the area around it in a sorry state. Unable to get hold of the janitor, I locked the door, praying that none of my children had forgotten anything and would have to come up looking for it. Eventually I found the janitor, he poured bleach all over that part of the room, and M. hasn't had anymore problems of that nature.
2) We're learning about China this week, and yeterday we talked about Chinese religions. Before we got into the details of Taoism, Confucianism and Buddhism, I wanted to clarify what a religion is in the first place. So we decided that a religion is something you believe, maybe about how you should act, what happens after you die, or what God is like. At this point, M. got a really puzzled look on his face, like he was thinking very hard about something (a look I rarely find anywhere near him). He raised his hand and asked, "Ms. Powell, what happened to God?"
2) We're learning about China this week, and yeterday we talked about Chinese religions. Before we got into the details of Taoism, Confucianism and Buddhism, I wanted to clarify what a religion is in the first place. So we decided that a religion is something you believe, maybe about how you should act, what happens after you die, or what God is like. At this point, M. got a really puzzled look on his face, like he was thinking very hard about something (a look I rarely find anywhere near him). He raised his hand and asked, "Ms. Powell, what happened to God?"
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Responding to poetry
We read a poem called "I Fell Asleep in Class Today," and the twist at the end was that the speaker was a teacher, not a student. The kids went back to their seats and were filling in these worksheets I had made. One free response question said, "What would you do if your teacher fell asleep in class?" I expected answers like, "I would make paper airplanes" or "I would run around the classroom and swing from the hooks in the closet."
Instead, I saw the following answers pop up most frequently...
The calm and collected: "I would read a book."
The ambitious: "I would teach the class."
The ever practical: "I would wake her up."
Instead, I saw the following answers pop up most frequently...
The calm and collected: "I would read a book."
The ambitious: "I would teach the class."
The ever practical: "I would wake her up."
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
Another field trip moment
We enter the hall of European Painting. The students gather around the first picture in the room, of a girl with curly light brown hair wearing a yellow dress. In unison..."Ms. Powell, it looks just like you!!!" "It's you!!!" "It's your twin!!!"
Field trip
Y: Ms. Powell, you do not eat meat?
Me: Nope, I do not eat meat. I'm a vegetarian.
Y: Why?
Me: Because I love animals a lot and I don't want to eat them.
Y: And your mom is a vegetarian too?
Me: Yep.
Y: I guess everyone in California is a vegetarian.
[J. forgot his coat. He only had a little sweater.]
Me: J., aren't you cold?
J: No, I'm just going to a warm place in my mind and so I'm okay.
[On the subway. L. and S. giggling and talking quickly in Spanish.]
L: Ms. Powell, Ms. Powell guess what.
Me: What?
[L. points at random man standing a few feet away.]
L: That's S.'s uncle.
Me: What?
[Man looks very confused.]
L: It is, it is!
[Man shrugs his shoulders, continuing to look confused.]
Me: I don't know...
S: It is, it is!
[Man shakes his head.]
[Man shakes his head.]
Thursday, February 26, 2009
My cat looks like a cow
We're going up the stairs to the 3rd floor after gym and D. is looking around, talking to A., bending over and touching her toes...not moving forward with the rest of the girls in the girls' line. So I say, "D.! Get with the program!" She gets very flustered...trying to explain to me that it's Thursday and, "No, but...Ms. Powell, but there is no after school [program] until tomorrow."
-------------------------------------
Background:
Early in the year, I was teaching some writing lesson, modeling with a story that involved my apartment and my cat, Isobel, who is black and white. I wrote some words about what happened, and what the apartment and Isobel looked like, and drew a picture with details. Since then, Isobel went to live with my old roommate, Jon and I got a new cat named Sammy (who is dark brown/gray), and Isobel came back to live with us. My phone desktop is a picture of Jon and Sammy.
So we're on a field trip and I get a text message from another teacher. I go to check it, and E. is looking over my shoulder. "Who is that?!" she demands, pointing at the picture.
"It's my boyfriend and my cat," I reply.
"That's not your cat, Ms. Powell!"
"Yes it is! What do you mean?"
"But Ms. Powell, I thought your cat looked like a cow!"
-------------------------------------
Background:
Early in the year, I was teaching some writing lesson, modeling with a story that involved my apartment and my cat, Isobel, who is black and white. I wrote some words about what happened, and what the apartment and Isobel looked like, and drew a picture with details. Since then, Isobel went to live with my old roommate, Jon and I got a new cat named Sammy (who is dark brown/gray), and Isobel came back to live with us. My phone desktop is a picture of Jon and Sammy.
So we're on a field trip and I get a text message from another teacher. I go to check it, and E. is looking over my shoulder. "Who is that?!" she demands, pointing at the picture.
"It's my boyfriend and my cat," I reply.
"That's not your cat, Ms. Powell!"
"Yes it is! What do you mean?"
"But Ms. Powell, I thought your cat looked like a cow!"
Monday, February 23, 2009
Dialog Journal
12/5/08
Dear A.,
Let's keep a journal together! Every night, I will read what you write and write you back. During the day, the journal can stay in your desk. Anytime you want to write and tell me something, you can! You are the only one who is going to have a journal with me so try to keep it private. Try writing about how you are feeling--things that are bothering you or things you are excited about. How are you feeling today?
-Ms. Powell
12/5/08
Ms powell today i feeling very very happy. Ms powell you are the best you are nice ms powell. We all love you ms powell. me and Jennifer c and anahi love you ms powell.
love ms powell
and love a.
12/5/08
Dear A.,
I am so glad that you are feeling happy today. Why are you so very very happy? What are you going to do this weekend? I am going to school on Saturday to learn to be a better teacher. Then I am going ice skating and after that I'm going to a party. I am so excited! I hope you have a great weekend.
-Ms. Powell
Dear Ms. powell,
We so happy. Ms powell you are nice. Ms Powell read us a book. It was very very nice. Ms powell is beautiful she is going in a party she will be happy. In the party she will be nice and beautiful she is so so nice. Me and ms powell we was very very happy. Ms powell is very nice.
Dear Ms Powell,
I feeling very very excited ms powell. You feeling very very happy ms powell. Ms powell you are nice ms powell. A. you are good in school.
by: A.
Dear Ms Powell
Ms powell i feeling very very excited in the school. Ms powell said to me that she feeling very very happy. Tomorrow i will be happy.
12/8/08
Dear A.,
Why are you so excited for school? What are you excited to do? Did you have a good weekend? What did you do. I sang in a concert. I saw a movie. I planned lessons for the week. Write back!
-Ms. Powell
Dear ms powell
We had so much fun in the park Ms powell have your weeked was good ms powell. Ms powell said to me that her weeked was good.
12/9/08
Dear A.,
My weekend was good! I'm glad you had fun in the park. Did you go on the swings? How are you feeling today--happy? Sad? Angry? Excited? Did you like anything that we learned about today? I am going shopping tonight, so I feel happy and excited, but also tired.
-Ms. Powell
Dear Ms Powell
I have a phone ms powell it is in my best. I have 2 phone. The phone is so good. Ms powell.
Love a.
2/20/09
Dear ms. powell
ms. Powell you are so Nice with me. I Love the way you teach me in school I learn more to do math and writing. my mom said that she like the way she hav contc with you about my behavioR. ms Powell you are so nice with us Im sorry when I din't lisen to you my mom said that i have to lisen to you and do what you said because yo are like my second mom. I Love you ms Powell.
Dear A.,
Let's keep a journal together! Every night, I will read what you write and write you back. During the day, the journal can stay in your desk. Anytime you want to write and tell me something, you can! You are the only one who is going to have a journal with me so try to keep it private. Try writing about how you are feeling--things that are bothering you or things you are excited about. How are you feeling today?
-Ms. Powell
12/5/08
Ms powell today i feeling very very happy. Ms powell you are the best you are nice ms powell. We all love you ms powell. me and Jennifer c and anahi love you ms powell.
love ms powell
and love a.
12/5/08
Dear A.,
I am so glad that you are feeling happy today. Why are you so very very happy? What are you going to do this weekend? I am going to school on Saturday to learn to be a better teacher. Then I am going ice skating and after that I'm going to a party. I am so excited! I hope you have a great weekend.
-Ms. Powell
Dear Ms. powell,
We so happy. Ms powell you are nice. Ms Powell read us a book. It was very very nice. Ms powell is beautiful she is going in a party she will be happy. In the party she will be nice and beautiful she is so so nice. Me and ms powell we was very very happy. Ms powell is very nice.
Dear Ms Powell,
I feeling very very excited ms powell. You feeling very very happy ms powell. Ms powell you are nice ms powell. A. you are good in school.
by: A.
Dear Ms Powell
Ms powell i feeling very very excited in the school. Ms powell said to me that she feeling very very happy. Tomorrow i will be happy.
12/8/08
Dear A.,
Why are you so excited for school? What are you excited to do? Did you have a good weekend? What did you do. I sang in a concert. I saw a movie. I planned lessons for the week. Write back!
-Ms. Powell
Dear ms powell
We had so much fun in the park Ms powell have your weeked was good ms powell. Ms powell said to me that her weeked was good.
12/9/08
Dear A.,
My weekend was good! I'm glad you had fun in the park. Did you go on the swings? How are you feeling today--happy? Sad? Angry? Excited? Did you like anything that we learned about today? I am going shopping tonight, so I feel happy and excited, but also tired.
-Ms. Powell
Dear Ms Powell
I have a phone ms powell it is in my best. I have 2 phone. The phone is so good. Ms powell.
Love a.
2/20/09
Dear ms. powell
ms. Powell you are so Nice with me. I Love the way you teach me in school I learn more to do math and writing. my mom said that she like the way she hav contc with you about my behavioR. ms Powell you are so nice with us Im sorry when I din't lisen to you my mom said that i have to lisen to you and do what you said because yo are like my second mom. I Love you ms Powell.
Thursday, February 12, 2009
Feelings
I spend every day pulling teeth. Sure, there are successes here and there. But I'm a perfectionist and the imperfections weigh on me. And since it's that weight on my shoulders that drives me to improve, and since that drive is the only reason I'm anything, I don't hate myself too much for the perfectionism and the drive. But my point is, I focus on the imperfections, the failures.
The kids who don't want to learn. And so, it seems to me, I spend every day pulling teeth. A., M., L., B....they'd rather be anywhere else, doing anything else, than be in school learning. Instead of learning to read beyond a Kindergarten level, A. spent the day throwing his table's crayons out the window whenever I turned my back. NOW HIS TABLE HAS NO CRAYONS. Did he not consider this? I am baffled.
M. pulled a girl to him and kissed her while she screamed and 2 teachers watched in horror. He stomped on another girl's foot and called a boy "motherfucker." I met with his father, who had no idea what to do to control his son. M. doesn't seem to care about anything and doesn't seem to be scared of anything... the best I can come up with is counseling the more malleable students to "ignore, ignore, ignore."
And then there's the fact that I KEEP GETTING MORE KIDS. I FINALLY move almost all my kids up past the D reading level and then, whaddaya know, 3 new kids move to the neighborhood, speak no English, can't count past 10, and don't know any of the letter's sounds. I know, I know, I should see this as an OPPORTUNITY... but all I can think is, HOW can the DOE require absolutely nothing except that a child be 7 years old in order to place them in 2nd grade. These children are at Pre-K level. What are they doing in my class of students who are (I hope) rapidly approaching 3rd grade level.
My predominant feeling at the moment is anger and I don't like it. I'm angry at my kids and at their parents and at the school and at the DOE. I'm angry at the people who throw their trash out of the bus at every stop instead of putting it in a trashcan like any decent person would. I'm angry at L.'s 21 year old brother, who had a baby with his girlfriend, then dumped her and moved back home. I'm angry at Y.'s father, who told her he didn't love her and then left her and her mom.
The problems with these people and this place run so deep. Am I really doing anything to fix them, or just getting myself caught up in the inevitable misery?
I feel tired of asking myself this question every single day.
The kids who don't want to learn. And so, it seems to me, I spend every day pulling teeth. A., M., L., B....they'd rather be anywhere else, doing anything else, than be in school learning. Instead of learning to read beyond a Kindergarten level, A. spent the day throwing his table's crayons out the window whenever I turned my back. NOW HIS TABLE HAS NO CRAYONS. Did he not consider this? I am baffled.
M. pulled a girl to him and kissed her while she screamed and 2 teachers watched in horror. He stomped on another girl's foot and called a boy "motherfucker." I met with his father, who had no idea what to do to control his son. M. doesn't seem to care about anything and doesn't seem to be scared of anything... the best I can come up with is counseling the more malleable students to "ignore, ignore, ignore."
And then there's the fact that I KEEP GETTING MORE KIDS. I FINALLY move almost all my kids up past the D reading level and then, whaddaya know, 3 new kids move to the neighborhood, speak no English, can't count past 10, and don't know any of the letter's sounds. I know, I know, I should see this as an OPPORTUNITY... but all I can think is, HOW can the DOE require absolutely nothing except that a child be 7 years old in order to place them in 2nd grade. These children are at Pre-K level. What are they doing in my class of students who are (I hope) rapidly approaching 3rd grade level.
My predominant feeling at the moment is anger and I don't like it. I'm angry at my kids and at their parents and at the school and at the DOE. I'm angry at the people who throw their trash out of the bus at every stop instead of putting it in a trashcan like any decent person would. I'm angry at L.'s 21 year old brother, who had a baby with his girlfriend, then dumped her and moved back home. I'm angry at Y.'s father, who told her he didn't love her and then left her and her mom.
The problems with these people and this place run so deep. Am I really doing anything to fix them, or just getting myself caught up in the inevitable misery?
I feel tired of asking myself this question every single day.
Monday, February 2, 2009
New kid
There is a new kid in my class. He is crazy. The other day, he raised his hand while all the students were on the mat to ask me, "Ms. Powell, do you love me?" Then, last week, he raised his hand while all the students were on the mat to ask me, "Ms. Powell, do you and your boyfriend sleep together?"
Jeesh.
Jeesh.
Thursday, January 22, 2009
Complaint
From Y.
Ms. Powell, E. told me that if I don't give him 10 table points, I'll have to eat R.'s doodoo.
Ms. Powell, E. told me that if I don't give him 10 table points, I'll have to eat R.'s doodoo.
Saturday, January 3, 2009
The Saga of D.
D. is seven years old. He comes from China. He arrived in the United States in early September of this year. The first time I laid eyes on him, he was screaming, crying and punching everything around him. It was his first morning in an American school. Several teachers were wrestling him, trying to get him to leave his mother’s side and line up with Ms. B.’s second grade class in the gym. The rest of the faculty and students looked on in shock.
The teachers failed to get D. into the gym that morning, and every morning for the next week. It wasn’t until the following week, when four more teachers joined forces against him, his mom ran away down the stairs, and the principal locked the door to the gym after her, that he was forced into Ms. B.’s line, still screaming and crying. And the rest of the faculty and students still looked on in shock.
Mr. J., my school’s ESL specialist knocked politely on my door on the afternoon of the third Friday in September. He’d brought me a whole stack of ESL books and hand-outs. I should have recognized that he was trying to soften me up. “So…” he began. “You’re going to be getting a new student.” I was confused. Hardly a day had passed that I hadn’t gotten a new student, and Mr. J. had never personally prepared me for any of them before. “He’s a little different. He comes from China.”
I still didn’t put two and two together, although I was slightly terrified at the prospect of a Chinese student. Most of the students in my class speak Spanish better than English, but, after taking Spanish in high school and college, I can communicate with them pretty well. I had friends who took Chinese in college and I was already wondering if maybe one or two of them would be willing to move to the Bronx and translate for me and my new student. “Anyway,” Mr. J. continued, “he should be moving to your class sometime next week. If we can get him through the door.” And the truth finally dawned on me…
The transition to a new classroom was almost as painful as the transition into the school in the first place. There were a few failed attempts. Finally, on Wednesday, his mother succeeded in beating him with an umbrella to get him into the gym, and then she ran away while another teacher and I wrestled D. into my line. I should have warned my students. Their response, as the teachers held the kicking and screaming child at the back of my boys’ line, echoed my own: “Oh. My. God.”
The most astonishing part of the day came right after lunch: math. I was giving a test on number order, with some addition and subtraction problems thrown in at the end. I didn’t have a lot of hope that my students would do well, since the diagnostic I’d administered at the beginning of the year showed me that most of them couldn’t put the numbers 1-10 in order. The majority of my student’s performance surprised me pleasantly. But D.’s performance (I’d handed him a test, just so he wouldn’t feel excluded or set apart from the rest of the class) blew me away. It was perfect. Even the tricky addition and subtraction problems on the last page. Perfect. I couldn’t believe it.
From then on, I had my entry point. Every morning, D.’s mother would beat him with her umbrella until he got through the gym doors. I would meet him there, put an arm around his shoulder, and hand him a sheet of math problems and a pencil. As he looked them over, I would guide him slowly into line and wave goodbye to his mother. And he would stand peacefully in line, answering every problem, from 2-digit addition and subtraction to multiplication and division. My other students were as amazed as I was. “D. is a math genius!” we decided together. He still didn’t understand anything I said, he still wouldn’t make a noise in English or in Chinese, he still wouldn’t come to sit on the mat when the rest of the students did, and he still ran to his mother’s arms at the end of the day. But finally, D. was starting to feel like part of my class.
Every morning, I greet the children at the door and shake each one of their hands. They are to say, “Good morning, Ms. Powell,” while giving me a firm handshake and looking right in my eyes. Since the second or third week of having D. in my class, I have tried desperately to get him to take part of this ritual, but to no avail. He shakes my hand and looks at me with big, puppy-dog eyes. And his mouth stays closed.
Finally, one morning a few weeks ago, I wouldn’t let him in the room. I stood outside with him for a good five minutes. I broke up the words, speaking each one of them slowly while pointing to my mouth, and then pointing at his mouth. Finally, I heard him say it. “Good morning, Ms. Powell.” I was ecstatic and ran into the classroom, shouting. “D. said ‘Good morning!’ D. said ‘Good morning!’” The class went crazy. D. SAID GOOD MORNING. Every one of the students was running around with giant smiles on their faces, coming up to D. and giving him hugs and shaking his hand and patting him on the back. They were as overjoyed as I was.
My students struggle with number grids. To be honest, I struggle with them too. Until you really internalize the fact that to the right means plus one, to the left means minus one, up means minus ten and down means plus ten, they just look like a lot of meaningless boxes. D., however, does not struggle with number grids. The other day, after a number grid lesson, it was time for independent practice. Most of my kids weren’t getting it. Before I knew what was happening, D. was out of his seat. He’d go up to E., point at an empty box on the number grid, and then make the two or three digits of the numbers on his fingers as E. scribbled them down furiously. I was not, of course, happy about the fact that E. wasn’t doing his own work. But I was happy when, during the “I’m grateful for ___” portion of our community meeting that afternoon, nearly every child in the class said they were grateful for D. because he helped them with math.
We had another exciting math moment right before Winter Vacation. The lesson was on breaking up a 3-digit number into 3 pieces (e.g. 258=200+50+8), and it was the guided practice portion of the lesson, so students were coming up to a white board to solve problems and explain how they found the solutions. I was shocked when, after writing a problem on the board and turning back to face the class, D.’s hand was waving around in the air. “Call on D., call on D.!” the rest of the class chorused. So I did and he, of course, came up and solved the problem perfectly. We clapped for him as he went back to his seat. “Well done, D.!” I told him. “Move up to Perfect Pink” (the reward for excellent behavior or performance). Without hesitation, and with a big smile on his face, he found his clothespin and moved it up before sitting back in his seat.
The teachers failed to get D. into the gym that morning, and every morning for the next week. It wasn’t until the following week, when four more teachers joined forces against him, his mom ran away down the stairs, and the principal locked the door to the gym after her, that he was forced into Ms. B.’s line, still screaming and crying. And the rest of the faculty and students still looked on in shock.
Mr. J., my school’s ESL specialist knocked politely on my door on the afternoon of the third Friday in September. He’d brought me a whole stack of ESL books and hand-outs. I should have recognized that he was trying to soften me up. “So…” he began. “You’re going to be getting a new student.” I was confused. Hardly a day had passed that I hadn’t gotten a new student, and Mr. J. had never personally prepared me for any of them before. “He’s a little different. He comes from China.”
I still didn’t put two and two together, although I was slightly terrified at the prospect of a Chinese student. Most of the students in my class speak Spanish better than English, but, after taking Spanish in high school and college, I can communicate with them pretty well. I had friends who took Chinese in college and I was already wondering if maybe one or two of them would be willing to move to the Bronx and translate for me and my new student. “Anyway,” Mr. J. continued, “he should be moving to your class sometime next week. If we can get him through the door.” And the truth finally dawned on me…
The transition to a new classroom was almost as painful as the transition into the school in the first place. There were a few failed attempts. Finally, on Wednesday, his mother succeeded in beating him with an umbrella to get him into the gym, and then she ran away while another teacher and I wrestled D. into my line. I should have warned my students. Their response, as the teachers held the kicking and screaming child at the back of my boys’ line, echoed my own: “Oh. My. God.”
The most astonishing part of the day came right after lunch: math. I was giving a test on number order, with some addition and subtraction problems thrown in at the end. I didn’t have a lot of hope that my students would do well, since the diagnostic I’d administered at the beginning of the year showed me that most of them couldn’t put the numbers 1-10 in order. The majority of my student’s performance surprised me pleasantly. But D.’s performance (I’d handed him a test, just so he wouldn’t feel excluded or set apart from the rest of the class) blew me away. It was perfect. Even the tricky addition and subtraction problems on the last page. Perfect. I couldn’t believe it.
From then on, I had my entry point. Every morning, D.’s mother would beat him with her umbrella until he got through the gym doors. I would meet him there, put an arm around his shoulder, and hand him a sheet of math problems and a pencil. As he looked them over, I would guide him slowly into line and wave goodbye to his mother. And he would stand peacefully in line, answering every problem, from 2-digit addition and subtraction to multiplication and division. My other students were as amazed as I was. “D. is a math genius!” we decided together. He still didn’t understand anything I said, he still wouldn’t make a noise in English or in Chinese, he still wouldn’t come to sit on the mat when the rest of the students did, and he still ran to his mother’s arms at the end of the day. But finally, D. was starting to feel like part of my class.
Every morning, I greet the children at the door and shake each one of their hands. They are to say, “Good morning, Ms. Powell,” while giving me a firm handshake and looking right in my eyes. Since the second or third week of having D. in my class, I have tried desperately to get him to take part of this ritual, but to no avail. He shakes my hand and looks at me with big, puppy-dog eyes. And his mouth stays closed.
Finally, one morning a few weeks ago, I wouldn’t let him in the room. I stood outside with him for a good five minutes. I broke up the words, speaking each one of them slowly while pointing to my mouth, and then pointing at his mouth. Finally, I heard him say it. “Good morning, Ms. Powell.” I was ecstatic and ran into the classroom, shouting. “D. said ‘Good morning!’ D. said ‘Good morning!’” The class went crazy. D. SAID GOOD MORNING. Every one of the students was running around with giant smiles on their faces, coming up to D. and giving him hugs and shaking his hand and patting him on the back. They were as overjoyed as I was.
My students struggle with number grids. To be honest, I struggle with them too. Until you really internalize the fact that to the right means plus one, to the left means minus one, up means minus ten and down means plus ten, they just look like a lot of meaningless boxes. D., however, does not struggle with number grids. The other day, after a number grid lesson, it was time for independent practice. Most of my kids weren’t getting it. Before I knew what was happening, D. was out of his seat. He’d go up to E., point at an empty box on the number grid, and then make the two or three digits of the numbers on his fingers as E. scribbled them down furiously. I was not, of course, happy about the fact that E. wasn’t doing his own work. But I was happy when, during the “I’m grateful for ___” portion of our community meeting that afternoon, nearly every child in the class said they were grateful for D. because he helped them with math.
We had another exciting math moment right before Winter Vacation. The lesson was on breaking up a 3-digit number into 3 pieces (e.g. 258=200+50+8), and it was the guided practice portion of the lesson, so students were coming up to a white board to solve problems and explain how they found the solutions. I was shocked when, after writing a problem on the board and turning back to face the class, D.’s hand was waving around in the air. “Call on D., call on D.!” the rest of the class chorused. So I did and he, of course, came up and solved the problem perfectly. We clapped for him as he went back to his seat. “Well done, D.!” I told him. “Move up to Perfect Pink” (the reward for excellent behavior or performance). Without hesitation, and with a big smile on his face, he found his clothespin and moved it up before sitting back in his seat.
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