Mr. Gallagher again...

I'm starting a long-term substitute position back in Western Mass. AP Calc, Honors Trig, and a pair of Math 1 classes at the end of the day. The Math 1 classes are supposed to be a real challenge, so we'll see how it goes. The original teacher went in for shoulder surgery, so I'm hear for two - three months, perfect to get me through the winter until the farm starts up in the spring. We'll see how it compares.

Notes

In transition, again, I'm going through old boxes, trying to consolidate and organize. I found some notes from my students in Mississippi, that I'll post here, in case I lose them. This blog is my record of my delta days, and so it seems only fitting to include these artifacts here.

"To: Mr. Gallagher

From: your former student T. O'N.

Thanks for your teaching, It was a great learning experience for me and I really didn't like math, but you made me like it."

"Dear Mr. Gallagher

The reason why I'm actin the way I'm acting is because my aunt Died and I guess you don't know how it feels to lose someone real special that you really liked and that was my only aunt that stayed down here. I don't have no family down here at all nobody but my mother, sisters, brothers and grandmother. and my Brother is leaving tomorro to go to Iraq to fight for his country. But like I said theirs nobody that can solve that problem but the man above and thats God

Yours truly

A.B."

(Folded intricately in that way that only high school girls can fold a note...)

"To: Mr. G

From: A.B.

March 11, 2008

Dear Mr. Gallagher

How have you been. fine I hope. Now that I realize that she's gone to a better place it really don't bother me anymore but my brother is safe because he's only over there for two months but I want say ain't nothing gone happen to him cause going to Iraq is dangerous but I think he will make it though butI really thank you for the talk you gave me and I really over comed it cause it don't bother me anymore but I think I can be a honor student now cause all the stress and the pain is all gone away and I'm gone pass the state test cause I believe in myself and I know you believe in me too so wish Good luck upon me Okay

Your friend,

A.B."

"Feb 20, 2007

Mr. G,

Hey I know for the few couple of weeks I have been missing days and sleep. Well its because I found out that I was pregnant. I know thats not your problem but on top of that I have issue at home and at school. I have not been missing school for the fun of it. I just been sick and down I will stay after school and do anything math is my down fall and I do plan to march in May. Also suppose to be moving to Cali and attending college. please understand what I am going through and I promise you I will work twice as hard to get my grade up. Whenever you can and able to can we talk. please.

Thanks,

C.S."

(In red sharpie on holiday stationary...)

"I would like to say thank you for working with me this year . . . . I enjoyed you

. . . . T. M."

(A yellow card with a smiling, shaggy dog on the front..."

"Missing you! (handwritten across the front of the card, above the dog)

(inside) To a man that makes me work hard! That you for ever thing.

Thank you Mr. G

Luv ya!!

M-Tech

Clazz of "09"

D. R.

Stay cool I'll Miss you!"

Going through these, I have some doubts about whether I should post them or not, especially the extremely personal note from C.S. The trust that many of my students eventually placed in me was such a meaningful gift, neither lightly earned nor given, that I want to be very careful not to compromise it. I've left out some of the most personal parts of C.S.'s note - her pregnancy was neither unusual nor hidden, so that has remained.

I am constantly missing Mississippi, albeit with a firm understanding that, while I might visit, I can never truly go back. Finding these notes was a poignant reminder of what I've known since leaving my home among the cotton for the last time: I'll be missing Mississippi for the rest of my life.

And suddenly I'm Mr. Gallagher again...

For the last three days, from 7:30 until 2, I've been Mr. Gallagher again.  On Tuesday, I went down to the business office of the district to apply as a sub, where I was told I would need transcripts and three letters of reference, which seemed a lot to ask for a substitute.  I stopped by the principal's office on the way out - he told me to just put his name down as a reference (he was assistant principal when I was there) and give it to him.  I was called the next day, and have been called every day since.  It's been a trip.

Nearly everyone who taught me is gone.  Of all the teachers I had, only four remain, and so the adult faces are just as unfamiliar as the children's.  The last names, of course, are all familiar, plenty of good old polish names.  And the quality of the education, well, I'd have to say I think it's slid a bit, to be honest.

Today, I was teaching physics and life science.  The physics classes were both CP (college prep - the middle rung on the tracking ladder - descriptive, CP, honors, AP) and were both pretty decent.  They were seniors, and worked in groups on a packet of questions without incident.  The second of the life science classes, though, presented me with some problems that I thought it might be worth sharing.  

The first kid walks in, and gives me his name.  Tells me this is going to be a bad class.  I tell him I've had worse as I check his name off the roster.  I see a name I had the day before, and in he comes.  Mr. Danzel, I say.  It's Danzel, motherfucker.  The assistant principal is in the hall, and I pass the kid off.  The AP sends the kid to the office and tells me this is one of the worst classes in the school, and offers to talk to them before we get started.  I tell him I'd rather he not, and we begin.  Kids here actaully swear much more than they do in Mississippi.  In other classes I'd subbed, they thought nothing of asking me if they could go get their shit out of their locker or telling me that they fucked up.  These kids, though, brought it to a new level.  I had two give me fake names, who weren't in the class, before running out the back door (classrooms with two, or, in this case, three doors, present unique scenarios) and being replaced by the actual owners of the names.  I take roll, inform them that they will not be talking, and that they will be taking a quiz.  This, obviously, does not go over well and is met with a chorus of profanity, but I pass out the quizzes, and tell them to keep quiet.  They don't, and as a sub, I have no consequences, but I play it pretty straight.  Stick to last names, and no shouting, calm, polite, each time repeating my expectations.  We will not throw things in this classroom.  You will sit in your desk, not on your desk.  We will not stand on desks, nor will we jump over them (a kid did actually do this.  twice.)  Finally, one of them let loose.  He had walked out of another class I had been subbing two days before, after I told him to stop talking, and today the same request was met with pure fury.  He stood, tore the quiz in two, raised his backpack over his head and slammed it on the desk.  You piss me off.  You make me want to punch you in the fucking face.  Out he went, with a loud slam of the door, and his quiz went into the folder with the others I had collected.  Then the class began to turn around for me.  I took up the rest of the quizzes.  They asked me a couple of questions, the basics - do you ever smile, were you in the military, where did you used to work before this.  I tell them that at my last job, they let me hit the kids.  That at least gets their interest.  One kid especially starts to come around.  He's Kennedy Carpenter, Dominque Olds, a leader who has no interest in class , loves chaos, and is too smart to get caught.  He smiles, and announces - I'm starting to get this guy.  Good, I say.  I collect the quizzes.  You all don't get him, he continues.  He says sir to you, you say sir to him, and everything'll be cool.  It's like, um... he says, fumbling, and, with help from the rest of the students, comes up with it - mutual respect.  It's like mutual.  It is mutual respect, I reply.  Detailing the rest of the class would be a bit boring, but by the end of it, we were having a productive discussion about evolution by natural selection and the three requisite criteria - variability, heritability, and differential fitness, without interuptions and with everyone in his seat.  It felt good and I had more fun with that class than with the ones that actually sat silently and took their quizzes.  Someday I might even go back to teaching.  Right now, though, I think I'd really have to need the money.  

Algebra I Test Scores

Below is a breakdown of the passing rate for the Algebra I Subject Area Test. The first column identifies each teacher by a letter, the second shows the number of students that teacher taught (or, apparently, did not teach) and the third shows the percent of those students who passed the test. I taught less than 50 students, certainly, although I can't be sure of the exact number of testers, since I had so many retesters. That means I must be either B, G, or I. Needless to say, I'm hoping for B.


A 61 26
B 30 63
C 51 23
D 60 61
E 61 29
F 73 2.8
G 34 2.9
H 46 39
I 25 0

Numbers

Overall:
Total Students: 64
Failing Students: 35
Percent Failing: 55

First Block:
Total Students: 19
Failing Students: 14
Percent Failing: 74%

Second Block:
Total Students:22
Failing Students: 6
Percent Failing: 27%

Fourth Block:
Total Students: 23
Failing Students: 15
Percent Failing: 65%

Notes like these always get me...

Dear Mr. Gallagher,

This year you have taught me a lot and you have showed me that I am a bright ,smart ,and intelligent young lady and that I can do anything I want if I put my mind to it . I want to thank you for everything you have taught me and thank you for believing in me and showing me that I can make it threw anything. You are a wonderful teacher and I want wish you the best in life and hope you can make someone else feel as great as you have made me feel.

Love Always,

Z H

Today

I hit a bird on the motorcycle. With my helmet. Doing 65. That's all.

On the back of a senior picture....

To: Mr. G
"The quote is 'Never judge a book by its cover.' It is true that you look mean but you are actually nice but firm. Thanks for the sidewalk chats."

You are appreciated...

Today, apparently, is teacher appreciation day, or at least the final day of teacher appreciation week. Our principal organized a breakfast for all the teachers, during which she held all the students in the auditorium. It was a nice gesture, although of course what the teachers would have appreciated most would have been a normal day that followed a predictable schedule. The breakfast meant first block lasted only about 20 minutes.

As second block starts, T.C. bursts in, and holding up a dollar bill, thrusts it at me. As I'm trying to remember if I had somehow told them that it was my birthday, he says "Mr. G., we appreciate you!" I'm standing, still somewhat speechless, when Myran, not to be outdone, leaps from his seat and presents me with another crinkled bill. As I look down and notice the denomination on the bill, Myran makes the same realization - "Hey, Mr. G, gimme back that five dollars. Mr. G, Mr. G..."

Things I can't control in fourth block

The temperature is at least 85 degrees in the classroom.

Fourth block is supposed to start at 1:38, and end at 3:26. Today, like many other days, unannounced, it did not end until 4:00.


Today, about an hour into class (which, as mentioned above, isn't even halfway into the block), three students walk in with passes from the office. Ten minutes later, three more arrive. In the middle of class, once we're quite in the middle of independent practice, I have six angry students arriving, knowing nothing about what we did for the last hour.

ZH has missed more days than she has been present this year. When she is present, she is an inquisitive, bright student. When she is absent, she does not learn. She has made less than a 20 every quarter. She is pregnant.

JH was my best student, until she went on maternity leave. Since she came back, I have seen her perhaps three times, in class. I saw her at the fair, though. She will not pass.

To summarize, I cannot control the temperature, the variable and overly drawn-out length of class, the arrival or departure of students during class, the pregnant state of my students or their attendance rates.

Senioritis

I've got it, and probably worse than the kids. I'm counting down the days, realizing I'll never be in this moment again, that these people with whom I've become so close are all about to disperse to far corners of the country, perhaps never to meet again.

Today, instead of coming home and working after school, I went to soccer, entirely against doctor's orders. Then, instead of coming home, I went to the Po' Boy shop, which doubles as a bar and pool hall, with Tabitha. We ate at the bar, watching a reality show about king crab fishermen in Alaska, and played a few games of pool. We should have started patronizing that place a long time ago.

We came back to the house and played set for an hour and a half, perhaps two hours, with Cornish and Anwmo. It started out as two games, but we needed a tie breaker, and so we played another, and then kept going. We made a lot of jokes about your mom. And then suddenly it was 11, and there are a whole list of things I should have done, but didn't. I should have graded Dominique's retest. I have to still do that tonight, if nothing else. I haven't done TST stuff, but I've basically given up on that. I didn't do my PT for my knee, but, well, it got a workout at soccer. I didn't grade any of my log packets or log quizzes from Algebra II, and I haven't planned anything for tomorrow. Oh, yes. Algebra II, we're d0ing conics. Tape and construction paper. Algebra I, first block, we are doing what we were supposed to do today, since we didn't have first block today. I just need to know what we're doing in fourth block. Basically, we could do the same thing we did today, since no one understood it, but that would get boring quickly. I think, basically, what I need to do is to come up with two different forms of independent practice, so that the first day they can do one, that is slightly more dependent, and the second day, they can do a more independent version. Or maybe, I just need to do better guided practice. Working problems on the board and asking the students what to do is only guided practice for those that are paying attention, and that is usually just 2 or 3 students in Algebra I (either block). This has been a miserable semester. I hate that I hate these kids, but I really do. Not all of them, probably not even most of them, individually. But as groups, both my fourth and first block I can honestly say I hate, and my second block, as a group, I strongly dislike. Any one of them, if I could remove a few elements, would be alright. But in my fourth block, there are too many elements that need removing.

Anyway, I had a good day of not working. Now I need about 20 minutes of working.

What a day, what a day. I feel, again, like I did at that ski race back in high school, where I fell on the finish line and had to crawl across. This is miserable. Outside of school, I am having a great time. Really enjoying myself. I had a great weekend spent with good friends, relaxing, eating, having fun. Yesterday, I finally got cleared by the orthropedist to take my knee brace off, which meant I got straight on the motorcycle. I took an hour ride, up to Metcalf and back, and thoroughly enjoyed the beautiful weather. Then, I got back to Leland and had an unexpected yet excellent dinner once again. I am looking forward to another weekend coming up in which I can put in some serious miles on the bike. But most of all, I am looking forward to walking out this door for the last time as a teacher. I'd love to come back and visit, because I love these kids to death, but I am not a good classroom manager, and that kills me. If I could do that, everything else would come easily. Perhaps my administration could have been more supportive, but there are certainly worse administrators out there. At the end of the day, it comes down to me, and I'm just no good at classroom management and therefore, no good at teaching here. I believe I could be a decent, perhaps even a good teacher, in a school that was not so riddled with discipline problems, where a supportive, respectful culture already existed. But this is too much for me. I've worked my ass off these last two years - I'm tired, I'm grumpy and I am sick of being continually disrespected.

There it is, then, that's why I'm leaving. I can't take the daily disrespect and the intense stress of managing a classroom. I'm tried, and I'll keep trying for the next three and a half weeks. But I am ready to go.

The Times says it again...

An article out in the Times today confirms my long-held belief that teaching math using real world examples is not only unhelpful, but counterproductive.


http://www.nytimes.com/2008/04/25/science/25math.html?ex=1366862400&en=f77a801028348734&ei=5124&partner=permalink&exprod=permalink

Frustration

Me: What should I teach my Algebra I kids tomorrow?
Ruth: What have you taught them?
Me: Nothing.

A Gift

Yesterday, during my second block, I had two parents sit in on my class. Well, actually, I had a parent and a sister. The two students involved had been assigned parent monitoring, because they both cut class and act a fool on a regular basis. TC's mom is great, she's always on him, and has really been helpful to me in dealing with his behaviors. After storming out of my class one day, he came back within minutes, apologized, and gave me his phone like I had asked him to the first time. When I asked him what had brought about the change of heart, he said that his mom had texted him and told him to give me that phone.

Anyway, it was a decent class. Not a great class, certainly. These kids are getting more and more rowdy, and I seem to have less and less control over them. Sometimes, it seems like I have less and less support as well, but I know part of it has to do with the fact that I have less and less energy. Regardless, learning was taking place, but I found myself spending far too much of my time and energy quieting the class. They haven't been doing a good job of listening, and my consequences have more or less evaporated. When T.C.'s mom left at the end of class, I asked her, like I usually ask parents, if she had learned anything. "Sure did," she said, then handed me the book she had been reading during the class. "You need these, Mr. G" she said and I thanked her. As she left, I looked down to find myself holding on to a small book of prayers. There are six weeks left, and I sure do need them.

Credit Recovery

As I read this article in the Times, I remembered hearing some talk about starting up a credit recovery system at our high school. I like Ben's hypothetical situations, so, if you were a principal in a school in the delta, would you institute a credit recovery program at your school?

Coming Home

Four o'clock. Out to duty. Four-fifteen. Back to the classroom for tutoring. Nelson failed my class last semester, but comes to tutoring two or three times a week, to make sure he doesn't fail again. Jameese came because she was tardy to class and I would not let her in. Chloe has been "missing some days" and came to try to get some sort of idea of what we are doing in class. Greg came to try to learn how to solve quadratic equations, so he can retake the test he made a 44 on. I taught Carliza Algebra I last year, and she came by because she was bored, so I gave her some quadratic equations to solve. She brought a friend, who spent half her time helping Carliza with the equations and the other half dancing.

 

Four fifty-seven. Hurry up and clear out so you don't miss the late bus. Nelson, erase the boards and grab that bag for me. Put on your seatbelt. Are you going to Greenville High?

Five fifteen. I drop Nelson off in front of Greenville High, and as I pull in, I see Nate. Just the guy I was looking for. What are you doing for next year? Your mom says you're still thinking about the military. If you go in there and get yourself shot, when you get back here, I'm going to shoot you again. Nate and I walk over to the baseball game. I've got a calculator and a few scraps of paper in my pocket, and we work out a few ACT-type algebra problems before the game starts. It's the ACT that has Nate thinking about the military – he made a 14 the first time he took it and is convinced he won't get into college anywhere. So we work out some problems and watch the baseball game for a little while.

Six eighteen. Nate, you said you had to be at church at six-thirty, so you better get going. I say goodbye to the rest of the students at the game and head over to the middle school track meet, where I can see a group of my boys helping out with the meet. Boone, with a 10 foot pole-vault pole in one hand, comes over and starts giving me a hard time my crutches. JT chimes in – I told you you better get your weight up coach. And Alvin informs me that I am too old to be playing. Ant tells me that he never got his letter jacket. Chopper comes striding across the field. I hear you've been staying out of trouble lately, Chop. Yeah know, he says. Who told you that? Ms. Morrison. I thought so. I don't know what was wrong with me in the fall. I wanted to throw discus too, but I was too late. I see lil' Ced, one of the middle school kids who came out for soccer. I chide him for quitting after two games. Three games, three games coach. And you said I wasn't gonna play much anyway. Alright Ced. You and your friend here should come out to Solomon. We play out there Tuesdays and Thursdays at five-thirty, and Sundays at four. Bring your friends. Chopper puts his hand on my shoulder. Coach, I need a favor. What's that? Take me to the house. Alright Chop, let's go.

 

Six forty-one. Heading back to the truck, I run into one of the twins. Hey Twin. Ka'Shield, right? What are you running? The 1600, 3200, 800, and 4X100. Winning them all? Yeah. Putting up scholarship times? In the 2-mile.

Six forty-nine. I see Javon, another of my middle school recruits who didn't last the season. His brother Darryl, one of our best players, is graduating this year. Javon, you staying out of trouble? Yeah coach, well, I got a referral the other day. He shuffles through his papers but is unable to produce it. You going to come out and play with us at Solomon? Tuesdays and Thursdays at 5:30, Sundays at 4:00? I'll try to get out there coach. Hey, can you give me a ride to the house? Yeah Javon. We moved, we stay up by Uncle Ben's now, up there on Broadway. Alright, well, you get in the back. Chopper in the front. We can't leave until you put the seatbelts on.

 

Seven sixteen. Alright Javon. Tell your mom I said hello. As I pull out of the apartment complex, I realize I'm hungry. Heading back down to the highway, I head back towards Leland. Popeyes. No, I can't eat that. Subway's not so bad for you. As I look up across the counter there is a glimmer of recognition. Hey Mr. Hogues. Mr who? I mean, Mr, uh, Mr. Galla… Gallagher. How are you? Good. How's the baby? He's alright. He must be about 10 months now, right? Yeah, how'd you know? Because you were due right after graduation last year. Oh yeah. What you getting? Italian, I guess, on wheat. I leave feeling incredibly guilty, because I can't for the life of me remember her name.

Seven twenty-three. I walk out of Subway, feeling guilty that I can't, for the life of me, remember that student's name. Coach, you eatin' healthy, ain't you? I turn and spy Ant peering out at me from the back seat of an Oldsmobile. You weren't serious about your letter jacket, were you Ant? No, I been had mine coach. Alright.

Seven twenty-seven. Three blocks from the Subway, I see someone running out to the edge of the highway. I shrill female voice cries – Hey Matt, where you going? I slow down as he races towards the road – Hey Coach. Matt, I haven't seen you out at Solomon. Come out on Sunday. The light turns green and I slowly roll away. Four o'clock, I shout, holding up four fingers. Aight coach. I watch in the rearview mirror as he scampers back to the shrill female voice, and can imagine the explanation "that was my coach."

Seven-forty: Pull in to the house in Leland. Change out of the teaching clothes, get a brownie and the jug of orange juice to go with the Italian sub. I look through the computer, searching for the student's name. I can only find her last name, Lawrence, on an old grade sheet. The bells ring eight. I start to blog. The roommates come home, and I break out the subway. Finish the jug of orange juice. The bells ring nine. I'm tired.

Correspondence

Correspondence:

Dear Mr. G,
The reason why I'm acting the way I'm acting is because my aunt died and I guess you don't know how it feel to loose someone real special that you really liked and that was your only aunt that stayed down here. I don't have no family down here at all nobody but my mother, sisters, brothers and grandmother. and my Brother is leaving tomorrow to go to Iraq to fight for his country. But like I said theirs nobody that can solve that problem but the man above and thats GOD
Yours Truely,
AB

Dear Mr. G,
How have you been. fine I hope. now that I realize that she's gone to a better place it really don't bother me anymore but my brother is safe because he's only over there for two months but I won't say nothing gone happen to him cause going to Iraq is dangerous but I think he will make it through but I really thank you for the talk you gave me and I really over comed it cause it Don't bother me anymore but I think I can be an honor student now cause all the stress and pain is all gone away and I'm gone pass the state test cause I believe in myself and I know you believe in me too so wish good luck upon me Okay
your friend,
AB

the devil

So, I was a witness at my second hearing of the year today. I won't get into what brought me and this particular student to the hearing, but my principal was recommending one year out of school. These hearings always start late, which puts parents in a spectacular mood, since they usually rushed to leave work early and then sit in the waiting room for 20 minutes. Another well-designed feature of the such hearings is that the witness, that is, the teacher who wrote the referral that led to this point, must sit in the waiting room with the student and parent during this time. I have been in some awkward situations, but this ranks among the most awkward.

Today, though, I came prepared, with a book of Billy Collins tucked into my jacket pocket. I knew I'd have to wait, and I knew I wasn't going to be able to really get into much of a conversation in the waiting room. I walked in, put my helmet down, said a muted hello to the student and her mother, and proceeded to immerse myself in my poems. Despite Mr. Collins' undoubted skill with everyday words, I could not help but eavesdrop on their conversation. It isn't really eavesdropping, anyway, if it is said at a volume and proximity such that it would
be impossible to not hear. The entire conversation was immensely interesting from many perspectives from the individual - the is where she gets it - to the sociological - Ruby Payne-esque insights. Yet perhaps the most interesting observation occurred when the principal walked in. She was on the phone (she's always busy and works extremely hard) and walked through the waiting area still on the phone.
"That that principal?"
"Yea Ma, that's Ms. Blank"
"That woman didn't even speak."
"You go in there and..."
"Shut up. I ain't gonna say nothing. I'm just gonn' go in there an' look crazy. Ain't sayin' nothing. That woman the devil. Come in here don't even speak. These people, get up in these high positions..."
"Can lose it just as quick"
"Sure can. Ooh that woman the devil."

Lessons:
Start things on time.
Always smile and say hello.

1984

During homeroom, one girl passes another a picture. Somehow, the picture has a birthday on it.
"Guh, you man be born in 1984. He be old."
"He ain't ugly."
"And you ain't nothing but sixteen."
"Oh no guh, I am seventeen. I'm grown."

So wrong.