Random Comment of the Day

Me to boy: "What do you want to be when you grow up?"

Boy to me: "A toenail infection."

For the Joy

Teaching is hard.

This week has been hard.

This year is by far harder than my previous two years. I don't know exactly why. Maybe it's that I have so many freakin' kids. Maybe it's because the kids I have are so far behind that I am overwhelmed with the feeling that I simply can't do it. Maybe because their older and their personalities are more complex so on top of everything else I have smartass kids who drop f-bombs and are dating.

Yes, I understand that "dating" is a relative term for 5th graders.


One of the hardest things this week was trying to figure out how to teach my new Haitian kid who doesn't speak English. I lose sleep over the fact that I am unequipped to teach him. I feel like we - as teachers and as a school system - have let HIM down. We have him in a room with 27 other kids, most of which are below grade level, and me, a teacher who has never taught ANYONE who doesn't know English.

Sometimes, when I'm meeting with other students, I see him working on whatever I gave him to do and I just feel like I've failed. But the fact of the matter is, I can't sit with him all day and teach him English and that he's sitting in a CHAIR at a TABLE in a CLASSROOM. I can't afford to not meet with my other students because they need me too. And while I'd love to just sit with him all day and work one-on-one, that is not an option. My principal might have a heart attack.

So I feel like I'm failing.

Today he started crying uncontrollably and randomly and I have never felt so helpless. I asked him what was wrong frantically and he just looked so tortured and upset...Picture it:
Us in the hallway. Him, weeping so hard he could barely speak and me desperately trying to use my fragmented French to figure out what was making him so upset. In that moment I knew that somewhere along the line we've failed that kid. He was crying and I had no idea how to figure out what was wrong.


So moments like that, when I feel like crying, I forget how this job sometimes makes me so satisfied and happy.

It's the joy.
Every now and then, not often, there's some joy.

There's an episode of Grey's Anatomy where the doctors are pondering this same question: Why do we put ourselves through this? Why do we do a job that is so often disappointing and demoralizing? And then, of course (with the help of Dr. Bailey) they see that the occasional joys that happen make everything else worthwhile.


After he stopped crying, finally, (and by the way, we figured out what was wrong. A family member in Haiti had just been killed), I decided I was going to spend some time with him. We were making an alphabet book with English words of all of the letters on the separate pages. One of the words we were doing was "jump" so I decided to jump around. He laughed. Laughing at teachers, I have found, has no language barrier.
That was a joy.

So yes, I'm exhausted. And I often wonder why I do this when I have friends who make more money and do less work. But I guess the joys make up for all of the rest.

Until he can speak English, I guess I'll just keep having to do things that he can laugh at. I'm pretty sure I can take care of that.

Someone Do This Math For Me.

I have 28 kids.

If they each ask me a question 5 times a day (I'm rounding down) that's 140 questions a day and 700 questions a week.

If 5 kids lie every day (again, rounding down) then that's 25 lies a week and 100 lies a month.

If each kid asks me to go to the bathroom every day, that's 560 "Yes, go aheads" a month.

If each kid raises their hand 10 times a day that's 280 times which is 1400 times a week.

If an average of 2 kids cry each day that's 10 times a week and 40 times a month.

If I have to check homework every day that's 140 homework folders a week and 560 times a month.

If 8 kids a day don't wash their hands after going to the bathroom (and they go twice that day), that's 32 gross hands a day and 160 gross hands a month.

If every kid sneezes all over the desk twice a day, that's 56 sneezes a day and 280 snot filled sneezes a week.

If each kid turns in 3 pieces of center work a week, then I grade 84 pieces of work a week and 336 center grades a month.


But........

If I can make them each laugh twice a day, that's 56 laughs a day and 280 laughs a week.

(that hand thing was still pretty gross though)

Trick-or-Treat

So we have a mentoring program at our school where teachers can be a mentor to a 5th grade student. These 5th grade students are chosen usually because they are low academically or they have a stressful home environment. Not knowing what I was getting myself into exactly, I signed up to be a mentor.

I wasn't allowed to mentor a kid in my class so I randomly was matched up with a girl in another class. She isn't low academically, but her home life is challenging. I am apprehensive to go into it too much but I'll just say this: I couldn't live her life. I'm nowhere near strong enough.

As a mentor, I am to take her places outside of school. We've been to get ice cream, to the movies, and I see her a lot during the day. Sometimes we have lunch together and often she just stops by to (as she calls it) "annoy" me.

Last Thursday I decided I wanted to do something with her again soon and she bluntly begged, "Can you take me trick-or-treating???" She said she wasn't allowed to go with her sister (because she's on probation) and mom wouldn't be around. I agreed. She and I also invited 2 kids (one of which is in my class, the other is his cousin) to join us because they all live in the same complex. The more the merrier.

We (a fellow 5th grade teacher) and I were pumped up as we drove to pick them up. When we got there, my student and his cousin were DECKED in costume and make-up. Ready to go!

My girl, on the other hand, walked out of her apartment looking sad and without a costume. When I saw her she said, "Mom says I can't go."
My heart sank.
Mom was nowhere to be found and just my luck, doesn't speak English. We call her repeatedly on my phone and there's no answer. Finally, we get her, and long story short (literally- this was a LONG story) mom says she can go.

She is so excited. I can't tell you.


So, we're off! 2 teachers (one witch, one 80's chick), one bumble bee, one evil emperor (?) and a kid without a costume. I gave her my cape and she pretended to be a vampire.

The reason this was special was because you can't really go trick-or-treating in their complex. Not so great things are going on there after dark and there aren't many adults to watch out for them. Last week a man was found shot and dead outside of their apartments. Not the best place to go out at night.

So, instead of hanging out in their neighborhood (which I didn't feel comfortable doing), we went to the neighborhood I grew up in. And, talk about coming full circle, trick-or-treated at my parent's house.

My girl was freezing (it was a cold night) and had no jacket so my mom gave her an old sweatshirt of mine. She was so unbelievably proud of that sweatshirt so we said, of course, she could keep it.
She wore it to school today.

It was one of those things that was so easy for me to do. All I had to do was pick them up and walk around with them for a couple hours, then drop them off again. It was so simple. But for them, it was an experience. I'm not patting myself on the back, I promise. I'm just glad that I got to give them that because it wasn't hard for me to do.



On the way home my friend and I were talking in the front seat. When we paused, I heard them whispering in the back..."I can't believe teachers actually took us trick-or-treating!!!"
That was thank-you enough.

Oh, and the Milky Way I persuaded the evil emperor to give me.

Chapeau

I have a new student.

He's not just any ordinary student. He's straight from Haiti- to my room. He doesn't know ANY English, only Creole (which is a lot like French) and I have no idea in HELL what I'm doing.


Because I've been recently certified as an ESOL teacher, I'm supposed to know what to do. In reality, I feel like I've been thrown into the roughest part of the ocean and told to tread water until May. I have no clue what's up from down. I don't know how to do this. On top of which, I don't know how to teach him and include him and still teach the other 27 kids.

So, I am humbled.



Today, while my co-teacher was doing a writing lesson, I took him for a walk around the school. I figured he could benefit very little from a 5th grade lesson in English when he doesn't even know the word for "teacher." Or "lesson." Or "or."

So, pulling on the B.S. French that I remember from High School, I pointed out things I knew around the school to make him laugh. I noticed that when I said something in my broken French, it would make him smile. If I said it while acting like a bit of an ass, he laughed. I figured this was a good way to get to know each other.

We walked by the Media Center. I said, "Bibliotheque!"

We walked the cafeteria. I said, "le dejeuner!" and mimed eating food.

When I saw certain colors, I said what I knew. He'd repeat them in English sometimes, but not every time. I think he just took a certain "I don't know what"* joy in seeing me look a fool.

He laughed the hardest when we were outside of the library. THere was a huge sombraro sitting there (I think as part of a display for Latino Appreciation Month? Maybe? I wasn't listening at that faculty meeting) so I put it on my head, did a jig, and said: "CHAPEAU!"

Don't worry, reader. I have some plans. Practical ones that don't involve me dancing.
Or at least very little dancing.

Plan 1: Label everything in the classroom. Even the things that move. But don't worry, I won't staple any labels on kids.

Plan 2: Books on tape where he can follow along with a book in his hand.

Plan 3: Curse myself for not taking French in college and forgetting everything but useless vocabulary that make me look like an arse.

Plan 4: Try to remember, throughout my complaining, that this kid is dealing with more of a culture shock than I will ever know and him laughing on the first day is a good sign that he's going to learn fast. Particularly when it comes to making fun of his teacher.



If you have any more plans, please let me know. Si'l vous plait.



* hee hee...get it? Je ne sais quoi? No? Ok.

Screwed By The System

One reason I think 5th grade is harder than the lower grades is because of something I keep hearing from school psychologists, administrators, and other people in positions of power: "This is their last chance."

5th grade is their last chance until Middle School. When they get into Middle School, their teachers have too many kids to worry about and if we don't get these kids what they need before then, it is almost inevitable that they'll fall through the cracks.

I'll give you a perfect example.

I have a student who moved from Haiti to the states a couple of years ago. He started school in 4th grade knowing no English.
Imagine coming to America and knowing no English. Being thrown into a public school in 4th grade with no understanding of what's going on.

He was retained last year and is now repeating 5th grade in my class.

All year (it feels like later than October) we have been struggling on how to teach him the best. He's incredibly bright, kind, has a huge smile on his face every time you walk in the room, and he wants to learn. HE WANTS TO LEARN. He tries hard every time I read with him.

Naturally, he's on like a 1st grade reading level (on a good day). Because he's now so amazingly fluent in English, it is hard to tell whether or not the struggles he has in reading is because of his language issues or because he has a learning disability.

Now, this is what I've been internally battling ever since the first day this incredible kid was in my class: What will his future be like?

He will go to Middle School and like other kids who are behind, he will struggle. What will become of him? Will he finish Middle and High School despite the inevitable uphill battle it will be? Will he even consider College? Will he get a job? What will happen in his life?
A 5th grade kid who can't read higher than a 1st grade book in Middle School...I don't know how much tenacity it will take him to stay in school but I don't know if I could do it.

It's like another student I had that just moved. Bright, kind student who was going through the process of possibly being considered for Special Ed (there is a WHOLE system that I'm sure I'll explain later). Every day with this student I had been taking anecdotal records, notes on behavior, how many times she asked for help, how many times she needed breaks in the day, the list goes on and on. I have a mountain of notes I've taken on her to be my back-up so when a meeting was called to discuss how she is functioning in the classroom, I'd have plenty to show.

She moved. All of those unofficial notes that could've been great support are now null and void. She has a new school, new teacher, new struggle to not get screwed by the system. And if that teacher doesn't do her job and figure how how to meet the needs of that girl she will go to Middle School and possibly lose her way.

The reason I'm posting this today is because on Oprah yesterday there was a man who was in jail being interviewed. He, and the woman he tried to rob at gunpoint, were being interviewed about why he did what he did and how he got to that point in his life. He talked about how he was struggling because he didn't have a job, dad left long ago, had a baby to support, and he saw no other way out of that life but to rob someone.

When I saw that young man (who actually is about my age) I thought of my boy who might go to Middle School and just drop out because it'll be so hard for him. I thought about how that man, now in an orange jumpsuit, was once a 5th grade student somewhere and I wondered about that teacher.

What I do makes a difference. Not in the cheesy way, but in the real way. This is their last chance before the hustle and bustle of Middle School when teachers have way too many kids to worry about so a lot of struggles will be overlooked. A lot of kids will drop out. And then what will they do?

To Legit to Quit (hey hey!)

I'm reading a chapter book about the Titanic with one of my reading groups. They are totally into it. They are inquisitive about why certain things happened and have opinions about EVERYTHING.


The book uses names of actual passengers and what they went through during Titanic's voyage. In one chapter, where lifeboats are being boarded and a lot of people are being left behind, the author writes a lot about a particular woman in the first class who was being separated from her family. The kids, for whatever reason, were very curious about her.
What happened to her after the book is over?

So me, being an internet whore, gathered them around my computer and we did some research. Amazingly enough, we found a website all about the survivors of Titanic. It had what lifeboat they got on, their age when they were on Titanic, and where they lived afterward.

You should've heard the GASP when we found the woman's name. To see that the chapter book and that website had her name in the same lifeboat was freakishly cool to them. We then spent the next 10 minutes looking up pictures of Captain Smith, Mr. Murdoch, and other people the book talked about.


There was one part of the site that they were floored by. It had the names of all of the passengers, according to class, and it also had their age and if they got in a lifeboat. To scroll down from first class to third, they were saddened by all of the names that didn't have lifeboat numbers by them. To add to how freaking depressing this was, it showed their ages. So when they found a kid their age in the third class who didn't make it, somehow it hit home.

A ship that sailed almost 100 years ago from a place they've never been TO a place they've never been...boarded by people they have no connection to...somehow it still hit home.

It was cool. It was cool that they saw that books are legit. To legit to quit.


(Sidenote: it was also great that they hadn't seen the movie Titanic so their opinions weren't skewed by images of Leonardo DiCaprio freezing in the water and saying "NEVER LET GO!")