brette

I feel caught in a strange place this last week.  On the one hand, there’s the typical end-of-semester lethargy that always seems to set in.  On the other hand, this week makes up a full quarter of our teaching experience.  Go figure.  There’s also the problem of staying focused on the students we have now, but also gearing up and planning for the now-faceless students we’ll have in a month or so.
In other news, I love reading about the TFA kids at other institutes, and their “OMG!  FIRST DAY!!!” posts.  It’s very, very strange to think that that was me just a few weeks ago.  But they have been very long, action-packed weeks.

They told us on one of the first days:  “You’ll barely recognize yourself at the end of 5 weeks.”  Well, I still recognize myself, but I also recognize the changes that have happened since I got here.  I have learned SO MUCH about teaching–what works, what doesn’t…what works for me, what doesn’t.  How to plan lessons and units.  How to assert my authority (well, I’m still working on that one, but I’m getting there).  I’ve also learned a lot about middle schoolers, and how they work–it’s been a while, and I needed a refresher course.

There are quite a few things that I will do differently next month (I can’t believe that it’s only next month!), and I think I’m ready to make most of those changes.  I have a much better understanding of How Things Work in a classroom from the other side of the desk.  I will have a clearer system of rules, with consequences that I can (and will) actually use and enforce.  I’ll have a well-defined grading system, and more organized procedures for dealing with pencils, paper, and other classroom minutiae.   I have a lot of reading, planning, learning, and designing to do between now and then, but I actually feel like I have the tools (and the time) to take care of it.
Today, we give our final assessment.  It will actually be almost identical to the test we gave a few weeks ago, and it will tell us how much the kids have learned.  I’m not really sure how they’ll do, but I have my hopes up.  I also have to decide final grades tonight, which makes me a little bit nervous.  I, despite my fumbling and bumbling, am partially responsible for determining whether or not my kids become 7th graders.  That’s kind of a big deal, but I should probably get used to it.

Last Monday was the first day that I actually felt like a real teacher–that is, that my students were actually smarter walking out of my class than they were when they walked in.

It’s probably bad that it took me two weeks to get to that point, but I’m glad that it finally happened.  I explained the new material, I showed them what I wanted them to do, and then I let them try it out in pairs.  We were working on converting fractions, decimals, percents, and ratios, and they worked in pairs to fill out a table:  Given a fraction, what is that number expressed as a decimal?  As a percent?  As a ratio?  Given a percent, what is that number expressed as a decimal?  As a fraction?  As a ratio?  Etc, ad nauseum.  But almost everyone was working diligently.  They really seemed to get it, as well–even the students who usually make trouble were doing well.

Tuesday was the exact antithesis of Monday’s successes–it was just bad, from start to finish.

Wednesday was an improvement, though–day #2 of actual teaching.  We worked on proportions–emphasizing on setting up proportions from word problems.  Again, most of the students were working.  Most of the students actually tried, and actually answered questions correctly.  Their thought processes aligned with the questions I told them to ask themselves when setting up proportions.  Not everyone got it, and not everyone was really on task, but we’re getting better, which is important.

Thursday was a quiz, and that took up most of the class.  There were a few students, though, that didn’t seem to be trying.  One, in particular, seems to understand that when she talks, she doesn’t learn:

“Miss, I don’t get this”

“Read the question and do your best to answer.  We went over it yesterday.”

“Yeah, but I was talking.”

But even though we’ve been through that conversation many times, it doesn’t ever result in less talking during class.  And even though hers is one of the names I say the most, to bring attention back to the front of the room, it never seems to last.

For this coming week, I’d like to have more “real teacher” days.  It would be kind of cool to actually leave my students prepared for the 7th grade.

Institute is nearing its end, which is both exciting and scary at the same time.  Still, I have a few stories to record before they are lost forever:

I have a student who has made it very clear that she doesn’t know how to divide.  Since that’s not exactly something I can stop the entire class for, we made a lunch date so that I could teach her.  Last Friday, we met, and I started explaining division as best I could.  She seemed very distracted, though–more so than usual.  I asked her what was up, and she ended up telling me that someone wanted to beat her up.  She wouldn’t tell me who, though, or any of the other details.  One of her friends came up to the table and asked:

“Can I say something to J?”

“Sure, of course you can.”

(J and her friend start whispering excitedly in Spanish.)

“Ok, so this girl has ten friends?  You’re talking about the one that wans to beat you up?  Tell me when and where this is supposed to go down and who it is.”

“MISS!!  You understood that?!”

“Um, yes.”

“MISS!!  You speak Spanish?!”

“Yes, I told you that in class!”

“Oh, yeah…”

They still wouldn’t tell me any names (”I don’t want to be a snitch!”), but this chick was going to jump my student when she wasn’t paying attention.  And she was bringing all her friends (J has more, though–there’s a whole list of kids that got her back).  I asked one of the regular teachers at the school, and found out that proper protocol would be to take J to the principal–”They can get the name out of her.”

So J had run off with her friends, but I found them in the courtyard and asked J to talk to me for a minute.  We started walking away, and I quietly herded her towards the office.  While we were standing in line (I think there’s often a line to talk to the principal at summer school…), she started telling me everything.  This was a long-standing feud, and she wasn’t sure why it started, but this other chick was in a gang and threated her that morning.  “But Miss, I can’t tell the principal–you have to tell her for me.”

When our turn came, J told the principal everything, and we were directed to the school police officer.  The officer took down all of the information, but couldn’t actually do anything because none of the teachers heard that morning’s threats.  The best he could do was get J out of class a little early, so she could get on the bus before any of the other students could find her.

What struck me about this whole ordeal, though, was that J’s biggest concern was that she didn’t know how to fight.  “My brother’s in a gang, but he’s 18 and an adult and doesn’t live here any more.  He taught me how to fight a little bit, but I’ve never really been in a fight before.  What if she jumps me and I don’t fight back and all her friends are standing around watching?  I’ll be embarrassed if I don’t know how to hit her back!  I don’t fight good, Miss.”
I’m glad she doesn’t know how to fight, and I hope she never has to learn.