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.

Spaghetti

The times had an interesting article today about monetary incentives for student achievement.

"Abigail said she would use it to pay for 'a car, a house and college,' apparently unaware that the roughly $100 she’s earned this school year might not stretch that far. Another little girl said she would use the money simply for food. When asked to elaborate, she answered quietly, 'Spaghetti.'"

Spring Break

For Spring Break, I will be regrouping. I have gotten behind on everything, predictably, and so I am taking that time to regroup and reform for the final push. As much as I really would like to use that time to get out of the Delta, I'll be gone soon enough, and so I should really take that time to get something together to get myself and the kids through until the end of the year. Once we get back, I'll have two months left. With all the highs and the lows I've had teaching, I'm hitting a pretty low low right now. My kids are totally disrespectful, don't listen, never stop talking and, what's worse, don't learn anything.

For our research project, I remember that LS asked most of her district leadership (principal, assistant principal, superintendent, etc) how they defined strength, and each said "the ability to endure." This is not a definition I agree with. When one is faced with a challange, strength is the ability to confront that challange and create positive change, not simply to endure it and whether the storm, but to conquer it. Yet I find myself struggling immensely now just to endure these last months. At least I should sacrifice my spring break to try to bring some semblance of order to things for these final couple of months.

I can't believe that in just over two months, I'll be watching the seniors walk across the stage and on to whatever comes next for them, then walking back to Leland and leaving this place. There are some things I've come to love about the place itself. The sunsets are nearly always spectacular, and the night sky is great for watching stars. You can play soccer through January and February. There can ever be a bit of quaint mixed with the sad and bizarre in these small towns, and beauty, where it exists, will shine brightly from the chaos.

I'll miss the kids, and their eternal hopefullness. Their energy and curiousity. They are so resiliant, they bounce back from nearly anything, smile under a weight that would have crushed me long ago.

I won't miss watching them suffer. The kids who show me the gaping abscesses in their teeth, who break down in tears, who tell me about their fathers in prison or their own cancer. The kids who get shot. The kids, just babies themselves, having multiple babies while still in high school. It is too much for me to take in, too much for me to handle. I can hardly exist in the face of all of this, and I admit, it's getting to me. It's getting to me more than it should. I can't fix it. I can't even keep one classroom under control. I can't fix it, any of it, not even one tiny corner of it. And I'm starting to give up hope for this place. Hope that there will be jobs, hope that there could be a strong education system. Hope for integrated public schools. Hope for strong families and values. I'm running out of hope, in fact, I've lost it already. I reserve a little hope - for Nate. For Marquitta. For Floyd. For Charles. For Keyera. For Greg. For KT. But it costs so much to hope, and every time your hope slips and falls, you wonder if it will get up again, or if this will be the final blow that kills it off.

So I'll spend my spring break here in Mississippi, soaking up the last of this world that I'm abandoning, trying to leave something positive for the kids. I might take a couple days and do a little camping - that would be nice. But for the most part, I'll be here, grading papers, planning, calling parents. Maybe I'll take off for a couple of early morning drives through the delta. The fog over the fields can be beautiful.

We've gotta get out of this place

Been having a really crappy time lately. I could whine and complain, but I won't. All day, I've been thinking, gee, maybe I just feel this crappy because I'm leaving. I remembered, before I went to Russia, seeing a graph about culture shock, and how, no matter how long you are away somewhere, your general happiness follows a certain pattern. Sure enough, before you leave, you hit a patch of what the graph calls up and downs. As if teaching wasn't enough of a roller-coaster already, now, when we're getting ready to unload, we have this extra little predisposition to chaos that is entirely unnecessary. My solution - buy a new motorcycle and read about pastured poultry.

The plan

This is a plan to make my teaching life better.
1) Start using tickets as rewards. Start just using them for the first 5 minutes of class. In seat and working quietly when bell rings. Move to in seat, working quietly for the first 5 minutes after the bell rings.

2) Grade only during my planning period. Never, ever, take work home to grade. And grade everything, everyday.

3) Post grade sheets every day or every other day.

4) Do all planning on weekends.

Number four will definitely be the hardest. I still have an extremely difficult time planning. But if I can do these things, I will be happier, and my kids will learn better.

This blog entry is a complaint. Don't feel obliged to read it.

May 24, I hope to have the truck packed and be on the road. I'll miss some of the kids, but I can't do this.

Anna told me that during class, Ben said (again) that classroom management was the biggest problem and the main cause of teachers leaving. I'll agree, but add that it isn't just classroom management, it's personal management too. I can never seem to get ahead, I'm always falling behind on everything (grading is a big one here). I have trouble getting students make up work because I don't even know what we did that day or where we put the extra copies, if there were any. I have no system for keeping things straight.

Oh Mississippi...

Oh Mississippi...

Keep on keeping on...

So, today I collected my first project. In over a year and a half, we hadn't done a project, so I thought what the heck, why not do a project. I'll let you know how they turned out once I grade 'em.

But does anyone have a good strategy for having students review tests that they've taken (and failed, often miserably). Especially when there were always students who were out and need to make up the test later. I feel like they could learn a ton from going back through the test and fixing their mistakes, or at least going through and trying to understand them, but I don't know how to work that process into class at all. If anyone has anything that has been successful for them in this regard, let me know. Right now, I don't even usually hand back tests - I just tell the kids what they got, which seems like such a waste of a learning opportunity.

Squirrel in the road

Should I stay or should I go now?

That is the question that's been bothering me ever since before Christmas. Here's a text I got the other night:

Wen will i no wat position i mite play & who my captains r

I get stuff like this all the time, not necessarily in text message form, but often verbally. From my players, it usually takes the form of "What up my boy co', you know next year I'm gun be grindin', we're going to beat warren central." Or "Co', I think my cousin (friend, sister's boyfriend, sister's boyfriend's cousin's friend) said he might play next year, we're only gonna have seven guys coming back, so we've got to recruit." "Next year I'm gonna..." "Next year we gonna..." "Next year..."


I get it from my seniors too. "Next year I'll be back to watch y'all play." "Next year I'm gonna try to play at Bellhaven." "Next year my little brother'll be up in here." And from my students, past and present. Mike R. was so upset not to have me for Geometry this semester, but he said "I'll have you for Algebra II next year, right?" Stuff like this happens all the time. And I just keep answering, to my students at least, that I have no idea where I'll be next year. Now, they think that I mean whether I'll be at Weston on or the Greenville Campus, but I don't know what region of the country I'll be in. I'll probably be in country. But to my players, I'm going to try to do everything like I would want it done before me if I were the new coach coming in. But I can't say whether I'm prepping them for another year with me or for a new sort of adventure. I've even contemplated leaving in June, getting a stress-free job somewhere, something in line with what I might want to do more long term, something more sustainable than teaching is for me, and then coming back in October just to coach. I couldn't "officially" coach, and couldn't get paid. But I could run practice and take the bus to games and do all that sort of stuff, and not be totally stressed about it all the time. I could even get a job at Kroger during the day while I'm here, or maybe even sub - probably not. But I guess you never know. Right now, I think that is my tentative plan - get a good farm apprenticeship from June through the end of September, then bust ass back down here to spend one more season as coach before doing something more permanent. Of course, I'll never do this. If I decide it's important enough for me to be here another year, I'll be here 100%, teaching and all the rest of it. Maybe I need to have an ultimatum - let me teach Calc - or Russian - or even just 3 blocks of Algebra II - and I'll stay. If anyone has tried such an ultimatum with their school, let me know how that went. Or maybe I could be more subtle, and just say "well, I have been going back and forth. But I really just hate teaching Algebra I. I've had some offers from some schools back up north where I'd get to teach Calc, and that would be a really big draw for me." Also, if anyone has any such experience with subtlety, let me know how it turned out for you.

Alright, well, assigned blog for Feb 20th is now complete. If anyone has a good idea for assigned wiki post for Feb 20th, let me know.

Progress

The good news - I am no longer as concerned about mere survival as I once was. The thought that there are only two more days until the weekend is not as comforting as it once was. I've started to worry about more important things, which is great, but the worries are often more profound than those that they replace. For example, "how do I make it to Friday while keeping kids on task enough that they don't riot?" was a real worry of mine for a long time. But now that I've mostly conquered that question, the others coming in are nearly as immediate and much more difficult to solve. "How do I teach all of algebra I, with new frameworks and a new test to pass, in 3 and a half months?" "What can I skip from the frameworks and still give the kids a good chance of passing?" "Why don't kids ever understand when I explain something?" "How do you get anything close to an hour and a half's worth of learning out of a 98 minute block?" "How do I differentiate instruction so the smart kids don't sleep or start a mini-riot?" "How do I differentiate instruction to deal with IEPs?" It's amazing, after a year and a half of this, how much I still have to figure out.

Algebra I – January through May

I am really starting to have doubts about my ability to teach all of Algebra I in four months. Sounds crazy, but that's what I'm supposed to do. Still not sure how. In two weeks, I set out to teach how to solve single-variable linear equations. Mastery is not happening, at all. I need to move forward and start talking about slope and lines and graphing – my master plan that I made has me spending just four more weeks on everything linear – graphing, slope, literal equations, writing equations of lines, all of that, before I have to move on to systems, polynomials, quadratics… it's insane. Not sure how it will happen. At least, if I suck it up big time, they might have me teach something else instead next year – if there is a next year.

out with a bang

one for the volley, two for the goal, clap your hands if you beat st joe.