I’m never more aware of my shortcomings as a teacher than when I go to camp. Of course, I didn’t know that until last weekend. I’m pretty sure last weekend was the first time I had been back to camp since August, since I started teaching. And that’s kind of terrifying, when you consider I had visited at least monthly for the four years before that.
I was just so much more relaxed, at ease, more able to joke, to kid, to connect with the campers in a way that I don’t think I can as a teacher, at least not as often.
I don’t really know why they’re different... but they are. They are so distinctly different. Where at school I quickly lose my patience with students talking, at camp I simply move on, or address it calmly. I think I do that at school, too... but after doing it day in and day out for months the effect starts to wear off. It starts taking more, and requests start feeling like threats of missed recess, and you don’t realize how much you hate doing that until you’re back between snow coated trees, repeating over and over again that “No, we can’t do any more melt-a-beads.” But the reaction isn’t frustration; it’s laughter, because it’s comical how many times you’ve been asked.
I don’t think camp and school have to be as different as they seem right now, in these moments where I feel the gap is a distance I dare not try to travel. Today I started out saying, I’m going to try to have patience like I have at camp. It’s 2:20 right now, and I’m sure I failed before lunch was even thought of. It’s going to be harder than I want it to be... most things worth doing are... but I want to start to bridge that gap. I need to.
Monday, February 28, 2011
Friday, February 25, 2011
Thin Mints
There’s nothing quite like sharing a box of Thin Mint Girl Scout cookies with your students.
I think one of the greatest lessons I’ve learned while teaching has been forgiveness. In a way I’m talking about a teacher’s ability to forgive and forget when a student misses an assignment, disrupts class, comes unprepared. But I don’t really consider those offenses things that need forgiven anyway, more skills that need learning. No, what I’m really impressed by every, single day is my students’ ability to forgive me. I’m not perfect, not even close. In fact the number of times I mess up on a given day is embarrassing. Maybe I let my frustration show more than it should, or I check a problem wrong that shouldn’t be. Perhaps I don’t get a whole story when disciplining a problem, or I don’t give directions as clearly as I could. And maybe those aren’t things that call for forgiveness always, either, but their things for which my students are perpetually patient.
Teaching, for me, nourishes the soul. The thousands of questions that bombard me every day, that cause me to acquire a slight twitch in my left eye, are also the things that make me smile, laugh and learn.
A couple of weeks ago the fifth grade had a Valentines Day party. Technically, the fifth grade was required to bring everyone a Valentine, if they brought any, but the Valentines…. lovely. I got a stuffed elephant. Hello!?!? Wonderful.
I think one of the greatest lessons I’ve learned while teaching has been forgiveness. In a way I’m talking about a teacher’s ability to forgive and forget when a student misses an assignment, disrupts class, comes unprepared. But I don’t really consider those offenses things that need forgiven anyway, more skills that need learning. No, what I’m really impressed by every, single day is my students’ ability to forgive me. I’m not perfect, not even close. In fact the number of times I mess up on a given day is embarrassing. Maybe I let my frustration show more than it should, or I check a problem wrong that shouldn’t be. Perhaps I don’t get a whole story when disciplining a problem, or I don’t give directions as clearly as I could. And maybe those aren’t things that call for forgiveness always, either, but their things for which my students are perpetually patient.
Teaching, for me, nourishes the soul. The thousands of questions that bombard me every day, that cause me to acquire a slight twitch in my left eye, are also the things that make me smile, laugh and learn.
A couple of weeks ago the fifth grade had a Valentines Day party. Technically, the fifth grade was required to bring everyone a Valentine, if they brought any, but the Valentines…. lovely. I got a stuffed elephant. Hello!?!? Wonderful.
Monday, February 7, 2011
D(W)riv(t)er's Ed.
"Miss Davis? What can you do with an English degree other than teach?"
Fair question. Sort of.
I told them you can do a lot of things by studying English. You can write. You can edit. You can teach. You can study what other people write. You can critique. You can continue learning forever. I think the real question they were asking, though, was, "Why do we need to learn English." They've certainly asked that before. I told them that every job they will ever have or could ever imagine having will require them to be able to communicate effectively, to write properly, to read carefully. That is why they have to learn English.
I think my students like me. And I know it's not necessarily about whether or not they like me. I know that. But I think they do, and I prefer that they do. I do know, however, that most of them do not like English, do not like learning about English. And regardless of whether or not it should bother me, it does.
I want them to understand, at the very least, why learning how to speak, write and read well is important, why it matters. I want them to value their growing ability to express themselves intelligently. I want them to enjoy learning the way I've come to love learning. Often, though, it's hard for me to make that connection.
I know I often fall into this habit of making my teaching about me, about what I'm experiencing, and that's a little self-righteous. But I know it's not, its just that that's the only perspective I have.
My students are bright. My students are witty. My students can think for themselves. They cannot, however, bring themselves to care about past participles, indenting paragraphs, poetry. I don't know if I blame them. I mean, indentation is pretty thrilling, really... but all the same... they've GOT to learn how to indent. Can I make indentation fun? Can I wow them with past participles? Can I get them on fire for reading Onion John? I don't know. I try.
When you decide you want to teach. It's all rainbows. It's all butterflies, until you realize that rainbows are optical illusions and you're terrified of butterflies. Haha... no... that's a little bit of exaggeration, not quite hyperbole, though. It's wonderful. It's wonderful in a way that it challenges you every single day to try harder. You can always try harder, and, I guess, you have to in order to live up to any of your own ideals. You might be reading this, thinking what a hypocrite I am teaching English. I use and abuse language with reckless abandon. But I've always been under the assumption that once you know language you have some type of license to mess with it a little, to start your sentences with conjunctions, to write fragments, to use a few too many ellipses. I want my students to earn their language licenses.
Fair question. Sort of.
I told them you can do a lot of things by studying English. You can write. You can edit. You can teach. You can study what other people write. You can critique. You can continue learning forever. I think the real question they were asking, though, was, "Why do we need to learn English." They've certainly asked that before. I told them that every job they will ever have or could ever imagine having will require them to be able to communicate effectively, to write properly, to read carefully. That is why they have to learn English.
I think my students like me. And I know it's not necessarily about whether or not they like me. I know that. But I think they do, and I prefer that they do. I do know, however, that most of them do not like English, do not like learning about English. And regardless of whether or not it should bother me, it does.
I want them to understand, at the very least, why learning how to speak, write and read well is important, why it matters. I want them to value their growing ability to express themselves intelligently. I want them to enjoy learning the way I've come to love learning. Often, though, it's hard for me to make that connection.
I know I often fall into this habit of making my teaching about me, about what I'm experiencing, and that's a little self-righteous. But I know it's not, its just that that's the only perspective I have.
My students are bright. My students are witty. My students can think for themselves. They cannot, however, bring themselves to care about past participles, indenting paragraphs, poetry. I don't know if I blame them. I mean, indentation is pretty thrilling, really... but all the same... they've GOT to learn how to indent. Can I make indentation fun? Can I wow them with past participles? Can I get them on fire for reading Onion John? I don't know. I try.
When you decide you want to teach. It's all rainbows. It's all butterflies, until you realize that rainbows are optical illusions and you're terrified of butterflies. Haha... no... that's a little bit of exaggeration, not quite hyperbole, though. It's wonderful. It's wonderful in a way that it challenges you every single day to try harder. You can always try harder, and, I guess, you have to in order to live up to any of your own ideals. You might be reading this, thinking what a hypocrite I am teaching English. I use and abuse language with reckless abandon. But I've always been under the assumption that once you know language you have some type of license to mess with it a little, to start your sentences with conjunctions, to write fragments, to use a few too many ellipses. I want my students to earn their language licenses.
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
That's so Magis
The fifth grade had a reading test last week. Part of the test asked questions about a time line. The time line included eight events. One of those events was women gaining voting rights in the United States. The last event was the invention of the television. Simple enough, right? One question on this part of the test read: Would you have been able to watch news coverage about voting rights for women on your television? Most students answered: No, because the television was not invented yet. However, two students did not. These two both had similar answers, but I enjoyed this one in particular: No, I wasn't even a speck in my parents' eyes. Clever. The fifth graders are clever.
It was technically correct... full credit.
Teaching, it's everything isn't it? You'll never understand it unless you do it. It's something that's not meant for everyone. I think it's meant for me. It's a kind of work that I don't even notice as work, just... being. For me, it's being. And I keep looking back on all of the criticism I had for my teachers growing up, all the times I felt like I was given the shaft because my teachers weren't doing enough for me. All the times during college that I looked at educators throughout the country with such disdain. I wanted them to quit selling their students short. I look back at those feelings I had and laugh... or sigh, whichever seems easier at the time. I didn't know anything. Because you just don't know unless you do it.
There are times now, too, when I look at what I'm doing and say, "Don't sell your students short." But it's not as easy as just saying that. I can work all day, every day to try to offer my students the best education I can. And it seems like my colleagues are doing the same... and, still, there will be things that we miss, things that we cannot explain entirely, students who will not hear everything we say, parents who will not support all the efforts we make. It's really overwhelming when you think about it. Even though I feel like I'm working all day every day, there's still so many times when I want to do more, when I want to do better.
It's times like those that I most remember prayer. It's such an easy thing to forget, even though it's so important. And I pray for a lot of thing, but, especially during those time, I pray that my students are more forgiving than I was, that my students are more open minded than I was, that my students are more caring than I was. Because none of my educators sold me short... not really. They worked their tails off, teaching us what they could with the time and resources they had. Then they had to pray that we had the sense to find the rest out on our own. Most of us did.
This week is Catholic Schools Week, and today is snow day number two of this week. That means we'll be missing our skit shows, which (for my sanity) I hope we make up. The fifth grade has spent too many hours arguing over what we're doing for it to be canceled completely. Since I've started working at a Catholic school, every week, but especially this week, I've been thankful for Catholic schools. I've been much more thankful than I ever was when I went to a Catholic school. Inevitably in a Catholic school there are some things that are off limits for education. Usually these things have to do with inappropriate material. But really, most schools are going to limit that type of material. Growing up, I thought that missing out on those things meant missing out. What I didn't realize were the things I was gaining. For Catholics, Catholic schools offer a type of education and moral guidance that not only isn't taught other places, but also isn't allowed other places. I'm thankful I have this venue to put education in broader terms for families and students who are looking for that.
It was technically correct... full credit.
Teaching, it's everything isn't it? You'll never understand it unless you do it. It's something that's not meant for everyone. I think it's meant for me. It's a kind of work that I don't even notice as work, just... being. For me, it's being. And I keep looking back on all of the criticism I had for my teachers growing up, all the times I felt like I was given the shaft because my teachers weren't doing enough for me. All the times during college that I looked at educators throughout the country with such disdain. I wanted them to quit selling their students short. I look back at those feelings I had and laugh... or sigh, whichever seems easier at the time. I didn't know anything. Because you just don't know unless you do it.
There are times now, too, when I look at what I'm doing and say, "Don't sell your students short." But it's not as easy as just saying that. I can work all day, every day to try to offer my students the best education I can. And it seems like my colleagues are doing the same... and, still, there will be things that we miss, things that we cannot explain entirely, students who will not hear everything we say, parents who will not support all the efforts we make. It's really overwhelming when you think about it. Even though I feel like I'm working all day every day, there's still so many times when I want to do more, when I want to do better.
It's times like those that I most remember prayer. It's such an easy thing to forget, even though it's so important. And I pray for a lot of thing, but, especially during those time, I pray that my students are more forgiving than I was, that my students are more open minded than I was, that my students are more caring than I was. Because none of my educators sold me short... not really. They worked their tails off, teaching us what they could with the time and resources they had. Then they had to pray that we had the sense to find the rest out on our own. Most of us did.
This week is Catholic Schools Week, and today is snow day number two of this week. That means we'll be missing our skit shows, which (for my sanity) I hope we make up. The fifth grade has spent too many hours arguing over what we're doing for it to be canceled completely. Since I've started working at a Catholic school, every week, but especially this week, I've been thankful for Catholic schools. I've been much more thankful than I ever was when I went to a Catholic school. Inevitably in a Catholic school there are some things that are off limits for education. Usually these things have to do with inappropriate material. But really, most schools are going to limit that type of material. Growing up, I thought that missing out on those things meant missing out. What I didn't realize were the things I was gaining. For Catholics, Catholic schools offer a type of education and moral guidance that not only isn't taught other places, but also isn't allowed other places. I'm thankful I have this venue to put education in broader terms for families and students who are looking for that.