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2002-10-03 - 8:15 p.m. I couldn't be more happy about this week being over. I had the freshmen do an assignment in their workbook on their own today, and you would think I asked them to all stand on their heads or something. So far all of the stories we have read have been together. Well, we finally got enough books for all the freshmen a few days ago, so I could actually have them do work on their own. So I decided to have them do a workbook assignment which involved--yes--reading the story on their own. In hindsight, I did present it in a way that may have overwhelmed them. I could have gone over it, had us do part of it together or something. But obviously I didn't realize that this would be such a leap. Skater #1 and Skater #2 totally shut down. Skater #3 actually got his workbook out and started trying to do the assignment. Skater #1 got out his workbook, looked it over, and put it back. Skater #2 simply put his head down on his desk. This was especially sad for me because Skater #1 and #2 both turned in their papers yesterday and we had some bonding during computer lab time. Skater #1 even--gasp--thanked me for helping him.
I talked to both of them about attempting to do their workbooks. Both expressed the fact that it didn't matter since they would fail the course anyway. Both have a D right now, I pointed out, so they are not failing. Skater #2 said there was no way he could possibly read 8 pages on his own. Skater #1 got his workbook out and started trying to do it. Skater #2 got his workbook out, wrote, "Fuck" on his paper, showed it to Skater #1 and put it back away. Anyway, both are in special ed. study hall and I talked to the teacher's aide about the workbook assignment, and gave her a CD of the story I had. She was talking to me about how she was also making some headway with them about reading logs, and seemed enthusiastic about trying to help them. But what was most disheartening was that she didn't know if she had anywhere for them to listen to the CD. Hmm. This is a special ed. classroom, funded by the federal government. Many students that need special ed. services need them because they can't read or write very well. One way to help those kids is to have them listen to the tape or CD of the story, which is listed as an accomodation we can do for them. WHY ON EARTH AREN'T THERE LISTENING STATIONS SET UP FOR THIS?!?!?! Sometimes the inefficiency of the public education system makes me want to run around hitting people.
So another thing that has been bothering me is that when I plan my lessons for the freshmen, I am thinking about these three boys and what they will be able to do or not do. Which is good for them. It is not good for my other 31 students in there, because they need to be challenged. I believe in mainstreaming kids, but in cases like this one it is just so impossible. We can't read EVERYTHING out loud in class. I can't pull those three (actually I have five special ed. kids in there) kids aside and read to them and keep the rest of the class on task (and not embarrass them). I don't know what to do. I did request that if they are going to give me an aide, they should give me one in there. So far I don't have one. At the high school level there is no one who is teaching these kids how to read (or read better). It seems to me that they need to have someone working one on one with them and reading skills. Someone who can actually help them learn how to read. Teacher's aides aren't trained to do this. Neither are high school teachers. Someone needs to do this though, because they are either going to drop out or they are going to get through school and graduate without really knowing how to read. I want to help them so much more than I can, and more than they will let me. They won't come in for help, even though I've offered. Not that I know how to do much else but read to them and walk them through it. The whole thing makes me sick to my stomach. Anyway, enough with my teacher's rant for the day. I am getting more and more evil with the freshmen. I actually gave girls detentions today because they just wouldn't be quiet. I have to send a message so the classroom doesn't fall apart. The last thing I need on top of everything else is a classroom management problem. I'm way behind on grading AGAIN. I am torn. I am thinking about trying to get ALL the grading done tomorrow evening and then having a makeup day on Monday. The other option is to plan out all next week and neglect the grading this weekend. Neither one is an ideal option, but I can't do both because I don't have the stamina. I am really quickly running out of steam. Next week is Homecoming. I am seriously considering dressing up on pajama day. If I could get one other teacher to do it then I just might. Who doesn't want to wear pajamas to school? In any case, we have to get ready for a crazy week. When I was in high school I didn't even understand what Homecoming meant. I never went to a single game, and I never dressed up on any dress up days. I could care less. The only thing I regret about high school is being shy; I don't regret not participating in what I see as b.s. I thought Dawson's Creek sucked last night. I only watched the first hour, then I switched to Felicity, which was a truly great episode. I wonder why they still call the show Dawson's Creek? It should be renamed Joey's Skirmishes with Professors. I'm not saying she is going to have a romance with this new ugly professor, but I am saying that the Joey-having-weird-relationships-with-male-professors is getting old. Maybe the next hour was better. I'm getting a little TVed out. I have Friends on in the other room, but I'm not watching it. I will still watch Felicity tonight, though. I don't know if I mentioned this, but I am turning into a culinary genius. I made an artichoke all by myself. I have never done it, but I did it. I also made lemon butter to dip it in. I deserved the praise I reaped on myself. The next night I made tacos. Then the night after that I made taco salad. Tonight I was bad and just had chips and salsa for dinner. It seems I'm on a Mexican food kick or something. The other day Maggie had a remembering teachers entry. That was pretty inspiring (poor girl, I can't believe you got paddled for forgetting your books at home!) It got me thinking about my teachers. I remember my sixth grade teacher Mrs. O. I think she was the first teacher that I totally completely loved. She could do no wrong in my eyes. I could never understand it when other kids complained about her (everyone else's favorite teacher was Mrs. R, our social studies teacher). She was my language arts teacher, and I can't remember anything we did in that class other than book reports and research reports. I'm sure we must have done something else, but I can't remember it. I remember reading a book called Jelly Belly about this fat kid who goes to fat camp. I got a B+ on that paper. I went on and on and on, and she said it was too long. Another thing I did was read Madeleine L'Engle's A Wrinkle in Time. My mom helped me make this elaborate dollhouse for my presentation on the book. I got so caught up in making it that I forgot to finish the book. The day of my report I tried desperately to finish it in time for my presentation. I didn't, and did the speech anyway. It went okay until Mrs. O. asked me how the book ended. "I didn't finish the story," I said. I was mortified.
"Good thing you did such a nice job on the project," she said. She gave me an A anyway. In my art class we could work at our own pace. I worked for months on a picture of a parrot. I painted each leaf individually. It was the most beautiful, intense, intricate piece of artwork I had ever done. I gave it to my mom. My mom loved it. Toward the end of the year, though, I realized that I needed to give Mrs. O. a gift, but not just any gift--the most important and perfect present I could think of. I asked my mom if it would be okay if I gave the picture to Mrs. O. My mom had heard so much about Mrs. O that she understood and was not at all offended by me taking my gift back. I was so shy back then, but I knew on the last day that I had to get up my courage to give it to her. I waited until the very end of class and then quickly gave it to her. I don't remember what she said, or what I said, but I remember how brightly she smiled and how pleased she seemed. I've mentioned before how my junior English teacher, Mr. B., inspired me. But I haven't talked about my senior English teacher, Mr. M. Because of Mr. B., I was in College Writing my first semester. I learned a lot about writing, but I didn't really like the other kids, and the next semester we were all going to be in British Lit. I went the first day and found out we were going to be reading a bunch of old boring stuff (probably Beowulf and Sir Gawain! Oh, the irony!) I had gone with Lucia to her class with Mr. M. to turn things in and get makeup work after school, and he sort of teased me about being in Honors. He seemed to take a liking to me and thought it would be great if I would transfer out of Brit. Lit. into his class. He felt tracking was a bad system, and said as much. Mr. M. made me feel so special. I will always remember him as the teacher that made us read "Sonny's Blues." An entire year of mindless drivel would be worth it to read that story. I told the seniors about this last year when we were reading the story so they would know how much I loved it. I also told them about how my teacher read my paper about it to the class. I remember it exactly. I was home sick the day it was due, and I couldn't think what to write. He had just told us to read the story and then write a paper in response. I ended up handwriting four pages surrounding the theme of music in the story. Mr. M. was kind of strict, so when I came back I asked him if it was possible to still turn it in. He looked at my four page paper in shock and delight. Apparently no one else had done the assignment. I guess he read it quickly and was really impressed with it. So impressed that he just up and read it to the class. I had never been so pleased. (Note to self--read good papers to the class!) Another day we had finished up an assignment and we all sat looking at each other. Mr. M. had his room set up so that there were two sides with rows of desks pointing towards the center. He often sat or walked up and down the center. I remember he was sitting down looking at us. Now that I'm a teacher, I have some idea that that moment might have been awkward for Mr. M. He looked at us and asked, "Anything else?" For some reason I took this as an opportunity to ask about a story we had read a few weeks ago for homework, but had never discussed. It was the weirdest story. It was about this huge balloon over a city, and then someone asked someone else about the balloon and the guy said that it was his. It was the most bizarre story ever. I asked Mr. M., "Hey, what was that story all about?!" Mr. M. was shocked and excited that I asked. However, he gave me a very vague answer about how it was interesting and that some people thought it had to do with sex. Well. That story has haunted me since, and I recently found a copy of it in a book of stories. The most infuriating thing is that I STILL don't get it. It makes no sense. I want to know the magic answer! On graduation day, when we went off the stage we went down into the cafteria. All of our teachers were waiting there for us in a row, waiting to shake our hands. It was a big school, and I'd only gone there two years, so I didn't know a lot of the teachers. It felt very weird shaking all of their hands, but I do remember shaking Mr. B's hand, and then seeing Mr. M in the line. I went to shake his hand and he smiled and hugged me instead. I don't think I had ever hugged a teacher before then, and I thought that was very sweet. Well, it's been fun thinking about my teachers, but I need to go get ready to watch Felicity. :)
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