So, this blog has not exactly progressed as I had envisioned. I had intended to update weekly--or at least bi-weekly--but it seems thirteen weeks have gone by since my last post. It's certainly not for lack of anything to report.

CAUTION: BEYOND THIS POINT THERE BE RANTS AND RAMBLING

The biggest news is that I now team teach all of my classes. At first I thought this was the administration's way of telling me I pretty much suck, and I'm still convinced that was at least partly the case. These classes, however, are what we in the education biz call "inclusion" classes. That means that I, as the "regular ed" teacher, co-teach with a "special ed" (or SPED) teacher, and our students are a mix of "regular ed" and "SPED" students. The dynamic can vary from classroom to classroom, but we are very much co-teachers, both of us working with both RE and SPED students.

The co-teaching gig has been a double-edged sword. First, it's been helpful because my classroom management really did suck. I let the students walk all over me (I was used to a more collaborative, more cooperative student population that I could simply charm into learning), and I needed to learn that there are things that I simply don't have to tolerate. My co-teacher has been a big help in teaching me this lesson. She as a much larger presence (literally and figuratively)in the classroom, comes from a similar background to that of many of our students, and she--as they say--"don't play." At first it was frustrating that she had so much more control over the class ("Just because Ms. X leaves the classroom doesn't mean you can start talking and goofing off and running wild! I'm still here, and I'm your teacher, too!!!"), and I still have those moments. I hate that last week I counted it a victory when the whole class stayed quiet and on task when Ms. X left the room, but in my more objective moments I also realize that she often has as many difficulties with some of the kids as I do.

The frustrating thing about co-teaching (besides the petty little voice in my head that tells me that I'm doing most of the work--somehow, teaching with another person actually adds to the work load) is that feeling that I'm not really fulfilling my own vision of what I want my classes to be. That vision has to be compromised with hers, and rightly so. Plus, the times when I've gone it on my own and been "true" to my vision haven't exactly gone well. I'm still getting used to how much I have to break down and simplify my instruction, and I can see that it frustrates the kids when I present them with a lesson or an assignment that is beyond their grasp (what we in the biz call their "frustration level.") Frustration with the lesson, of course, leads to classroom managment hijinks. See above rant. Still, I long for the day when I can have a class of my own that I can plan on my own and teach on my own. I still have romantic ideas about discussing Pride and Prejudice and To Kill a Mockingbird--or even The Brief, Wondrous Live of Oscar Wao--with a group of engaged, enthusiastic students.

The thing is, I know that on some level I have to earn that engagement and enthusiasm. In my previous life as a college instructor, I had no problem sharing my enthusiasm about the material with my students. This is a whole different ball game. I feel like I still have to earn these kids' trust, and so far I'm not quite making minimum wage.

Okay, the trust thing brings me to an issue I'm hesitant to talk about because there's no good way to talk about it, but I feel like it's been the elephant in the room since I started at this school. To put it simply, I can't help but wonder if some of the problems I've had with some of the students have been because I'm white. I'm positive that's been the issue with at least one student (who has since transferred out of my class), and I think it may explain why some of the kids have responded differently to Ms. X than they have to me. I think that's starting to change now that they're getting to know me better (it may have also helped that I made my choice in the recent election very clear), but sometimes I still feel like I have to be so much more careful in what I say and how I interact with the kids than some of the other teachers. Of course, the kids can probably pick up on that, which brings us around that big ol' vicious cycle back to the trust issue.

Speaking of trust issues--and to show that there have been some breakthroughs--I have learned that some of my students have to live through circumstances I thought only existed on HBO dramas. There are absent or deceased or jailed parents. Living circumstances that lead to a call to the authorities. Sexual abuse. Brothers and cousins and friends lost to street violence. Listing my students' problems this way makes it sound like some trivial checklist of urban life cliches, but I really have no way to express how devastating some of these kids' living situations are. When I think of all they have to deal with, I just want to throw out the lesson and the classroom management, buy a bunch of snacks (one of our girls in a particularly horrendous situation loved Lance crackers and raisins,but sadly, after DCF moved her from that situation she was withdrawn from school and we don't know what's happened to her)and just let them talk. School should be a place where they get safety and structure, but here's another one of those pesky vicious circles: Because of their home lives, the kids who are most in need of gentleness and compassion are often the biggest classroom management problems and the ones most prone to take that mile if given an inch, which means they're the ones I'm screaming and yelling at and writing up, which pretty much kills the whole "safe space of trust" thing.

I wish I could find some profound way to wrap this very long and winding (Hey! I warned you!) entry up, but I can't. After nearly three months (has it really only been three months?) I'm still finding my way.

So, here's what I've learned in my first week as a high school teacher:

Everything they tell you in classroom management courses is true.  You have to be organized, consistent, and prepared from the minute you walk into the classroom, or you've already lost the battle for the day (maybe the year).  I knew this, and I thought I was prepared to an extent, but I had nowhere near the structure I needed to have. The result:  I got a quick course in the First Law of Classroom (Thermo)Dynamics, which states that fourteen-year-olds have an infinite capacity for being told to sit down and be quiet without it altering their behavior or energy level.  I have nobody but myself to blame here; I was always able to wing it somewhat when it came to classroom management in higher ed, but you can't wing it with a group of high school freshmen--especially when the air conditioner is not working.

I am capable of taking a cell phone from the biggest, baddest kid in class simply by saying "Give it to me.  I am not playing" a couple of times, giving him a look I inherited from my mother, and letting him know he'll get it back at the end of class.

I am capable of getting up at 4:50AM three mornings in a row, but I will crash on the third evening.  Crash hard.

Students respond much more effectively when you are actually teaching them something rather than just giving them pointless busywork.  I taught actual lessons for the first time on Friday (which was the third day of school), and the difference was amazing.  Students responded, and they took notes, and some of them even realized they were supposed to be getting something out of the class.  On the other hand . . .

It takes time for students to un-learn past lessons and bad habits.  Specifically, just because other teachers may have let you finish your classwork for homework doesn't mean that you can sit in my class and do nothing until the last five minutes and then act surprised when I tell you you have to turn your work in.  Will a series of "zero" classwork grades change this habit?  Maybe not, which brings me to . . .

Rewards are not only encouraged, but expected.  (Okay, I've only learned part of this lesson so far.  We'll see if the theory holds when I institute the Reward Zone next week.)

High school freshmen are both capable of more than you might expect of them and not capable of quite as much as you might expect of them.  The trick is to learn the difference.

As a group, fourteen-year-olds are the most frustrating, exhausting, draining people I've ever encountered.  As individuals, though, they are fascinating, entertaining, and occasionally moving.  They get excited about traditions with their best friends.  They're proud of their new shoes.  They hope to form bonds with their new foster mothers.  The flighty one who won't stay in her seat and be quiet?  May be capable of finishing her work more quickly than you might think.  The quiet, sullen-looking one at the back table?  May be more polite and a much better writer than you would expect.


I feel like I've gotten off to a rocky start, but I hope to recover some lost ground over the next couple of weeks (The baseline tests coming up this week are yet another speed-bump).  I really want to do this well.  I want to be able to teach these kids, not just maintain an environment of controlled chaos between bells.

I guess the first thing I should say is that I'm not some dewy twenty-something first year teacher with a newly-minted education degree.  First, I'm not twenty-something--heck, I'm not even thirty-something any more.  Second, I don't have an education degree.  I do have degrees--three of them, in fact--but none of them are in education.  Third, I'm not new to teaching.  I've been teaching in higher education, as a graduate assistant and in multiple visiting and adjunct positions, for about ten years, so I can't even really be called a non-traditional career-shift teacher.  What I'm saying is that I don't feel like I really fit into any of the paradigms of a first-year public high school teacher, but that's exactly what I am.  A first-year public high school teacher

When I tell people that I'm getting ready to start teaching reading and English  to ninth graders, the responses I get usually fall somewhere on the spectrum from "Good luck and God bless" to "Whyyyyyyy???????" They're clearly thinking of either their own experiences in high school , the teenagers they know and . . . love, or the state of our public education system as brought to them by Anderson Cooper and Katie Couric..  I get this.  I do.  For years, I swore I would never teach high school.  In fact, I earned a Ph.D just so I could avoid such a fate.

So, why am I doing this?  Because I have finally realized that I love teaching--no, scratch that.  I am a teacher.  It's what I'm good at, and it's what I want to devote my time and energy to doing and doing well. In higher ed, teaching comes second to research and publishing (sometimes a very distant second), but in the public school system, it's the top priority.  Now, I don't want to make myself sound more noble than I am.  If I'd been able to land a permanent, tenure-track position at a college or university, I probably would not have had this epiphany.  But I have had this epiphany, and now I can't imagine myself doing anything else.

Of course, I'm writing this before I've even taught my first class, and I'm sure my feelings will change fifty times before the end of homeroom on my first day.  I have no Lean on Me or Dangerous Minds fantasies, and I admit I'm more than a bit overwhelmed. In the past few weeks I've been bombarded with state standards, scope and sequence plans, technology training, classroom management practices, and the physical labor of setting up my classroom.  (Side note:  The educational supply store is a wonderful, magical place.) 

There's also the fact that my school is an "urban" school with a predominantly "minority" population and a history of both academic problems and violence (against a teacher in at least one major recent case).  When I found out where I was going to be placed, my reaction shattered my illusion of myself as hip, progressive,  liberal, open-minded, and free of prejudice.  "What business does a little white lady like me have in a big, scary, mostly-black school?"  I found myself asking myself.  "I hope I don't get shot and/or shivved," I found myself thinking.  As a writing teacher I hate to resort to cliches, but . . .  I have a feeling I'm going to be learning as much or more than my students.

I guess that's why I'm starting this journal. I have a feeling I'm going to need a place to vent, but I also want a record of this first year.  I want to see what I taught and what I learned.