I try hard to be considerate of others's feelings when I work with them. Whether they are my students or my colleagues, or even my family, I try hard not to make insensitive comments. Today was different. In a conversation with a colleague, one for whom I have a great deal of respect, I made a rude and insensitive comment.
Several years ago when we hired this colleague, I felt the interview process was unfair. I thought we were there to hire the best candidate, and ultimately I know we did hire the best teacher for the position, but at the time, it felt like she was already selected and the interview proces was strictly a formality. Moreover, I was written up a few days later because my behavior was perceived as "unprofessional," even though the accusation against me were not true. I have refused to participate in further interviews because of that experience.
However, we were talking today because our department is about to lose three teachers, and rumor has it a middle school teacher has been promised a job at our school. Contractually, that's illegal. Realistically, it could be true. I let it slip that it felt like when she was hired. I should have stopped myself but didn't.
I question my motives. Why tell her that, after all these years? Why dredge up the past? What do I gain from hurting her feelings? She's worked hard to be an important and significant member of our department, and I really like working with her. In fact, she is one of two teachers who I'd like to partner with. I feel terrible, and I know what must be done; I need to face her and apologize tomorrow.
Hurting another's feelings is usually motivated by a desire to inflict pain. As I reflect on my mouth, which often gets me into trouble, and my motivation, I have no desire to hurt my colleague. I wish I could understand why I said what I said.
Tuesday, January 15, 2013
Tuesday, January 8, 2013
Number crunching
Today is one of the bad days in education. Why? Because today we found out that we have to redo our SMART goals and reflections to fit a new format. For many people who do SMART goals and reflections, this may seem like a ridiculous issue. However, for teachers, especially high school teachers, it's cumbersome and time consuming, focusing less on actually teaching and more on crunching numbers. Students become "product" rather than the people they are.
I like students, and I like teaching. I like reflecting on the day, week, month, and year. I like focusing on my students, trying to decide what each needs from me. I like planning lesson, and sometimes, I even like grading. Data, in the form of numbers, doesn't help me much as I am easily confused by the mathematics that goes into data collection.
What frustrates me the most is this: I want to provide my students with a challenging, enriching education, and I work hard to accomplish this goal. I want my students to leave my room more capable and confident than when they arrived. I spend a great deal of time working with my students, including evenings and weekends. And yet, it feels like I'm not doing enough. I have to spend hours in front of a computer, recording those who are high, middle, and low achieving students, and then justifying all interventions I used to help them succeed. If they aren't succeeding I need to spend even more time justifying why they aren't succeeding. While I agree that a teacher has a significant impact on the success of a student, other factors, including parents, home environment, and peers, also contribute to whether or not a student is successful.
Days like today are a drag. They drain me. After spending hours trying to complete what was asked of me, I gave up in frustration. Draining days force me to question whether or not I'm in the right profession. Many will say, well quit. But it's never that easy. I don't like to give up, and I don't like to hurt my students. And I don't want to be homeless. I need the money. But I also need my students.
I guess I'll head back tomorrow and do my best for the day, putting off what confuses and frustrates me. Not the best solution, but the only one I have right now.
I like students, and I like teaching. I like reflecting on the day, week, month, and year. I like focusing on my students, trying to decide what each needs from me. I like planning lesson, and sometimes, I even like grading. Data, in the form of numbers, doesn't help me much as I am easily confused by the mathematics that goes into data collection.
What frustrates me the most is this: I want to provide my students with a challenging, enriching education, and I work hard to accomplish this goal. I want my students to leave my room more capable and confident than when they arrived. I spend a great deal of time working with my students, including evenings and weekends. And yet, it feels like I'm not doing enough. I have to spend hours in front of a computer, recording those who are high, middle, and low achieving students, and then justifying all interventions I used to help them succeed. If they aren't succeeding I need to spend even more time justifying why they aren't succeeding. While I agree that a teacher has a significant impact on the success of a student, other factors, including parents, home environment, and peers, also contribute to whether or not a student is successful.
Days like today are a drag. They drain me. After spending hours trying to complete what was asked of me, I gave up in frustration. Draining days force me to question whether or not I'm in the right profession. Many will say, well quit. But it's never that easy. I don't like to give up, and I don't like to hurt my students. And I don't want to be homeless. I need the money. But I also need my students.
I guess I'll head back tomorrow and do my best for the day, putting off what confuses and frustrates me. Not the best solution, but the only one I have right now.
Friday, January 4, 2013
Memories box
When I began teaching in 1992, I had a student I could identify with; she was new to the state of Texas, new to the school, and she felt like an outsider. Coming from Colorado to Texas, I understood how she felt. At the end of the year, she handed me a tightly folded letter, in which she detailed how she was considering suicide before I reached out to her. It was a beautiful letter, full of hope for her future, and thanks for me.
I still have that letter because, on occasion and when life is tough, I pull it out and read it. After 20 years, however, I have received cards, notes, and drawings from some of the students I've worked with, and I keep them all in my memories box. They remind me about why I teach. I don't teach because I love administering tests or even grading essays. I teach because of teenagers. I teach because they need to know they are loved and accepted for who they are, even if their hormones have made them a bit nutty.
There are many of us who have our memories: pictures, programs, signed jerseys. Our mementos remind of our purpose: to work with children and teens. To know, once, we were important in the life of a young person. My memories box is an ordinary box kept next to my desk. On occasion, I like to open it to remind myself of my purpose. My classroom has decorations from previous students, including pictures. I look at them and think how lucky I've been to have worked with some amazing people.
Another way for me to preserve memories is to keep a journal that students can sign. I don't buy yearbooks as they are too cumbersome and too expensive, but journals work well. Any student who wishes to write in it may do so. No one is penalized if they don't write in it, and I ask students who would like to tell me how much they hate me to write me a letter rather than write in my book. I keep those hate letters too, simply because I need reminders that there are students whom I did not reach. Students who left my classroom without learning much.
When working in a high stress profession such as education, I've found it important to save those mementos from former students. I have reminders of those whom I've reached or not, those who touched my life, and a small body of evidence to leave my son someday, so he knows what I actually did in my life.
Maybe it's pure vanity to keep a memories box. But in my world, it's more about preservation of sanity and a reminder of why I do what I do.
I still have that letter because, on occasion and when life is tough, I pull it out and read it. After 20 years, however, I have received cards, notes, and drawings from some of the students I've worked with, and I keep them all in my memories box. They remind me about why I teach. I don't teach because I love administering tests or even grading essays. I teach because of teenagers. I teach because they need to know they are loved and accepted for who they are, even if their hormones have made them a bit nutty.
There are many of us who have our memories: pictures, programs, signed jerseys. Our mementos remind of our purpose: to work with children and teens. To know, once, we were important in the life of a young person. My memories box is an ordinary box kept next to my desk. On occasion, I like to open it to remind myself of my purpose. My classroom has decorations from previous students, including pictures. I look at them and think how lucky I've been to have worked with some amazing people.
Another way for me to preserve memories is to keep a journal that students can sign. I don't buy yearbooks as they are too cumbersome and too expensive, but journals work well. Any student who wishes to write in it may do so. No one is penalized if they don't write in it, and I ask students who would like to tell me how much they hate me to write me a letter rather than write in my book. I keep those hate letters too, simply because I need reminders that there are students whom I did not reach. Students who left my classroom without learning much.
When working in a high stress profession such as education, I've found it important to save those mementos from former students. I have reminders of those whom I've reached or not, those who touched my life, and a small body of evidence to leave my son someday, so he knows what I actually did in my life.
Maybe it's pure vanity to keep a memories box. But in my world, it's more about preservation of sanity and a reminder of why I do what I do.
Wednesday, January 2, 2013
Nightmares
One of the most difficult aspects of being a teacher is the regular nightmares. To wit: I'm currently on vacation, and yet I can't stop dreaming about school, mostly about what can go wrong.
I'm sure, in most professions, people have nightmares about their jobs, but mine seem to be based on my deepest fears and greatest insecurities. During the summer, I dream about not being able to manage a classroom so students walk out or it's utter chaos. During the school year, I dream about administration or certain students who vex me. Of course, I still have the classroom management nightmares, I mean, it's a pervasive fear. But this morning, I dreamt of a parent...
No parent, in particular. An amalgam of different parents with whom I've dealt over the years. The parents who scream and insult. The parents who are so angry, their voices shake. The parents who leave hate-filled voicemails or who write vicious emails. My nightmare dealt with that parent.
I don't understand what drives parents to be so vicious toward teachers. I know our profession has good and bad teachers in it. What profession doesn't? I know there are teachers who are easy to work with and teachers who are not. I know we bring our anger and frustration with our child, our own parenting, and our own emotional baggage regarding education and teachers to each meeting. But what I've never understood is why all of that has to come toward an individual teacher.
I've been threatened, insulted, screamed at, accused of lying, and had my words twisted. At this point in my career, I don't want to work with parents anymore. Before Back to School Night, my stomach is in knots. I've experienced disrespectful parents and parents who want to fight me at that time. One year, the parents were so badly behaved, other parents had to ask them to be quiet. Another time, a parent wanted to argue with me about the use of MLA and why I was wrong about its use. One parent, who was also a teacher, wanted to challenge our curriculum in front of a room filled with parents.
Then there are conferences. I'm physically sick days before the event because I don't know what I'll face that night. Will I be bullied? Insulted? I had a parent one time sit down and tell me how I was her son's favorite teacher. I was surprised and told her so. I figured the student hated me. She said, "Oh, you thought I was serious? He really hates you." What can be said after that? During our last conferences, I had a student with some serious anger issues, and regardless of what I said, she had rude and disrespectful responses. Her family marched up to an administrator and demanded a meeting or a new teacher. She was given a new teacher. Not that it mattered in the end, because her issues had nothing to do with me.
As a parent, I know how difficult it is to work with a teacher whose philosophy runs counter to one's own. My son's teacher last year was like that. She gave a great deal of homework, none of which was ever graded. I thoroughly disagreed with that philosophy, and yet, I felt it was in our best interest to support the teacher. I didn't insult her, scream at her, or trash-talk her to my son. I want my son to know that even if he disagrees with someone, he needs to be respectful.
Most teachers I know didn't go into the profession to get rich or to torture children. Most teachers are doing the very best for their students, which is made more difficult by changing standards, administrators, and difficult parents and students. I simply wish parents and students would understand that teachers are in their profession to help, not hurt them.
As for me, I also hope my nightmares stay nightmares and not become true experiences.
I'm sure, in most professions, people have nightmares about their jobs, but mine seem to be based on my deepest fears and greatest insecurities. During the summer, I dream about not being able to manage a classroom so students walk out or it's utter chaos. During the school year, I dream about administration or certain students who vex me. Of course, I still have the classroom management nightmares, I mean, it's a pervasive fear. But this morning, I dreamt of a parent...
No parent, in particular. An amalgam of different parents with whom I've dealt over the years. The parents who scream and insult. The parents who are so angry, their voices shake. The parents who leave hate-filled voicemails or who write vicious emails. My nightmare dealt with that parent.
I don't understand what drives parents to be so vicious toward teachers. I know our profession has good and bad teachers in it. What profession doesn't? I know there are teachers who are easy to work with and teachers who are not. I know we bring our anger and frustration with our child, our own parenting, and our own emotional baggage regarding education and teachers to each meeting. But what I've never understood is why all of that has to come toward an individual teacher.
I've been threatened, insulted, screamed at, accused of lying, and had my words twisted. At this point in my career, I don't want to work with parents anymore. Before Back to School Night, my stomach is in knots. I've experienced disrespectful parents and parents who want to fight me at that time. One year, the parents were so badly behaved, other parents had to ask them to be quiet. Another time, a parent wanted to argue with me about the use of MLA and why I was wrong about its use. One parent, who was also a teacher, wanted to challenge our curriculum in front of a room filled with parents.
Then there are conferences. I'm physically sick days before the event because I don't know what I'll face that night. Will I be bullied? Insulted? I had a parent one time sit down and tell me how I was her son's favorite teacher. I was surprised and told her so. I figured the student hated me. She said, "Oh, you thought I was serious? He really hates you." What can be said after that? During our last conferences, I had a student with some serious anger issues, and regardless of what I said, she had rude and disrespectful responses. Her family marched up to an administrator and demanded a meeting or a new teacher. She was given a new teacher. Not that it mattered in the end, because her issues had nothing to do with me.
As a parent, I know how difficult it is to work with a teacher whose philosophy runs counter to one's own. My son's teacher last year was like that. She gave a great deal of homework, none of which was ever graded. I thoroughly disagreed with that philosophy, and yet, I felt it was in our best interest to support the teacher. I didn't insult her, scream at her, or trash-talk her to my son. I want my son to know that even if he disagrees with someone, he needs to be respectful.
Most teachers I know didn't go into the profession to get rich or to torture children. Most teachers are doing the very best for their students, which is made more difficult by changing standards, administrators, and difficult parents and students. I simply wish parents and students would understand that teachers are in their profession to help, not hurt them.
As for me, I also hope my nightmares stay nightmares and not become true experiences.
Tuesday, January 1, 2013
#New Year#Fresh Start
I know how cliched this sounds...new year, new start! New year, new you! But there is something about January 1 that keeps me forever hopeful about the upcoming year.
When I was a child, my mother would begin to quietly put away a few decorations the day after Christmas. Our "big" take down day was January 1...she wanted to begin the new year with a clean house, which often meant moving a few pieces of furniture around, or putting pictures in different spots. As I grew older and moved out of the house, she would often have everything down and put away by December 27th because she hated the clutter. I always felt sad when I saw all our Christmas paraphenalia disappear, but ironically, I am now the one who can't wait for all the Christmas decorations to be safely in their boxes again.
I don't have the same love for Christmas that I once had. It's lost its magic for me. In fact, I often feel like I'm simply going through the motions as we move through the holiday season. I enjoy our decorations...snow people, holy family, sentimental ornaments, but it seems like such a hassle to put them out and then put them away...within a six week period. While Christmas would feel odd without the decor, I find it a relief when it's all cleaned up.
Adhering to the January 1 rule, though, seems to be in my blood. It's how I was raised, and it's often difficult to break one's training. My husband would rather leave up the decor through Epiphany, but most years, I'm back in school by that weekend and consumed with all that is school. January 1 allows us a chance to enjoy our cleaned up home for a couple of days before I report back to school.
Today was no different; our New Years' day was spent sorting, boxing, wrapping, storing, and cleaning. I'm incredibly relieved! My house is clean and reorganized. I can breathe for the rest of the week; I might even attempt relaxing! I don't have to live in clutter and pine needles anymore. I feel clean; ready for a new year. My husband is a terrific sport, pitching in and doing the heavy lifting or cleaning the places I cannot reach. I'm sure he'd rather spend his day doing something else, but for me, well, that's what the first day of the new year is about...cleaning the cobwebs from the previous year.
And ultimately, isn't that what the first two weeks of January are about? Isn't that why we make resolutions? We want to be better people, live better, exercise more, be happy. Granted, we often break our resolutions before the end of the month, but we take the initiative, we resolve, we reorganize, we are new...at least for a short time.
My living room has a fresh start. I have a fresh start. And we have a fresh new year.
When I was a child, my mother would begin to quietly put away a few decorations the day after Christmas. Our "big" take down day was January 1...she wanted to begin the new year with a clean house, which often meant moving a few pieces of furniture around, or putting pictures in different spots. As I grew older and moved out of the house, she would often have everything down and put away by December 27th because she hated the clutter. I always felt sad when I saw all our Christmas paraphenalia disappear, but ironically, I am now the one who can't wait for all the Christmas decorations to be safely in their boxes again.
I don't have the same love for Christmas that I once had. It's lost its magic for me. In fact, I often feel like I'm simply going through the motions as we move through the holiday season. I enjoy our decorations...snow people, holy family, sentimental ornaments, but it seems like such a hassle to put them out and then put them away...within a six week period. While Christmas would feel odd without the decor, I find it a relief when it's all cleaned up.
Adhering to the January 1 rule, though, seems to be in my blood. It's how I was raised, and it's often difficult to break one's training. My husband would rather leave up the decor through Epiphany, but most years, I'm back in school by that weekend and consumed with all that is school. January 1 allows us a chance to enjoy our cleaned up home for a couple of days before I report back to school.
Today was no different; our New Years' day was spent sorting, boxing, wrapping, storing, and cleaning. I'm incredibly relieved! My house is clean and reorganized. I can breathe for the rest of the week; I might even attempt relaxing! I don't have to live in clutter and pine needles anymore. I feel clean; ready for a new year. My husband is a terrific sport, pitching in and doing the heavy lifting or cleaning the places I cannot reach. I'm sure he'd rather spend his day doing something else, but for me, well, that's what the first day of the new year is about...cleaning the cobwebs from the previous year.
And ultimately, isn't that what the first two weeks of January are about? Isn't that why we make resolutions? We want to be better people, live better, exercise more, be happy. Granted, we often break our resolutions before the end of the month, but we take the initiative, we resolve, we reorganize, we are new...at least for a short time.
My living room has a fresh start. I have a fresh start. And we have a fresh new year.
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