Teach For America teacher blogs are on Teach For Us http://teachforus.org/region/st-louis/feed/ Thu, 25 Dec 2014 10:04:46 +0100 FeedCreator 1.7.2-ppt (info@mypapit.net) In which I freeze a little http://katb.teachforus.org/2014/01/06/in-which-i-freeze-a-little/ It's amazing that a foot of snow and some sub-zero temperatures can send me spiraling into a strange alternate universe.  In this alternate universe, my sixteen day holiday break has turned into eighteen days, St. Louis has turned into a block of compacted ice and snow, and my brain (and probably the brains of my kids) has turned to mush.   Except for three shoveling adventures and a short, but exhilarating, trip to pick up a pizza, I've been gazing at the world from a living room window in between exasperated battles with my will power to accomplish measurable tasks. My boyfriend commented earlier today that I probably had months of lesson plans done by this point.  I have three weeks done, but that's probably far short of my motivated potential.  The arctic wind chills may have actually frozen the dendrites in my brain so that they're incapable of communication. Well fortified with pizza and beer, I have found myself back in front of the gently glowing screen of laptop.  The keys click satisfyingly when I type, there is just the right amount of background noise enveloping me, I am wrapped in a cardigan and a blanket, I should be perfectly positioned to crank out plans from now until the MAP test.   But... maybe I need a snack!  ...Perhaps a new song on the radio would help!  ...Maybe if I put the blanket around my neck like a cape!  ...Would I feel like a superhero then?  ... The inner monologue goes on and on. Theoretically, the snow on the streets and the snow in my brain will melt in a few days, and I will find myself re-immersed in the always fully connected world of sixth graders. Theoretically. Until then, I'll keep staring at the gently blinking MS Word cursor.  Eventually, inspiration will strike, I will type, the cursor will march proudly across the screen and fill the tiny boxes of my school's lesson plan template.  Eventually, school will start again (although good gracious, it's supposed to snow again Wednesday night into Thursday morning - this may turn into a very short week of teaching and learning).  Eventually, it will be back to the perpetual rush and gush of Year 3 In The Land of the Small People. You know, theoretically. katb Tue, 07 Jan 2014 01:39:41 +0100 In which it is November 3rd http://katb.teachforus.org/2013/11/03/in-which-it-is-november-3rd/ A co-worker asked me during a professional development session on Friday why I wasn't writing anymore. I guess I could have told him that this was a TFA platform, and that as a (CAN YOU EVEN BELIEVE IT) "alumna" of Teach For America, I no longer thought I had anything much to say. That's really not so true though. The more I thought about it that day (I mean... I was paying attention during PD... I promise...) the more I realized that the reasons are somewhat complicated. <ol> <li>As a teacher, there's always some pressure to just hush, put your head down, and work.</li> <li>My life sucks a lot less than it did during my first year of teaching, and although work is still often intensely frustrating, I have other ways of dealing with it.</li> <li>The children haven't done anything so hilarious and adorable that I thought it would be uplifting and humorous for the entire world to read about it.</li> </ol> In the past few months, I have briefly contemplating writing  a long gripe about everything that is still hard, painful, unfair, and challenging about doing what I do.  Every time I started though, I imagined either digging a hole for myself, or just sounding like a whiny baby. So instead, I present to you 5 wonderful things about teaching, children, and November 3rd. <ol> <li><span style="font-size: 13px;line-height: 19px">After 3 years, my kids are actually the reason why I like my job, even when they're at their most middle school-ish.  (Don't get me wrong, there are days I walk in to co-workers classrooms and say, "I don't like children today," but that's called being human.  And anyway, I generally like them again by 4 PM).  </span></li> <li><span style="font-size: 13px;line-height: 19px">Sucktober is over.  Never again will I have to endure Sucktober 2013.  At many points during Sucktober, I had to remind myself, "Is October always so Suck?"  And then I remembered, yes, yes it is. And then I got to erase the word "OCTOBER" from my chalkboard and rejoice in the thirty oh so short days of November.   </span></li> <li><span style="font-size: 13px;line-height: 19px">The kids rocked our first novel unit and super loved <span style="text-decoration: underline">Holes</span>.  They are adorable little reading nerds - DON'T TELL THEM.  We're starting the <span style="text-decoration: underline">Westing Game</span> this week.  </span></li> <li><span style="font-size: 13px;line-height: 19px">I finally mastered Halloween as a teacher by a) dressing up like a spelling bee (I wore bee antenna and taped spelling words to my sweater) and b) deciding that we should probably spend the 31st watching the movie version of the aforementioned novel.  The children were happy, I was happy,  we were instructionally relevant (CCSS - compare and contrast text and media) , everyone won. </span></li> <li><span style="font-size: 13px;line-height: 19px">I get to spend three hours a month hanging out with some of my favorite sixth and seventh grade girls after school, reading awesome books and having intelligent conversations about them.  We had the girls snowball discussion questions about our last book, and one of them actually came up with the question, "What does beauty mean to you?"  Then we handed out <span style="text-decoration: underline">The Hunger Games</span> and a hushed silence descended as the girls began to read.  When we told them that it was time to get on the after school bus and go home, there were actual groans.  </span></li> </ol> <div>Happy November, one and all.  I can smell the turkey and the vacation already, can't you?</div> katb Sun, 03 Nov 2013 19:47:03 +0100 In which the rumors of my death are greatly exaggerated http://katb.teachforus.org/2013/08/28/in-which-the-rumors-of-my-death-are-greatly-exaggerated/ So far, being a third year teacher seems to be mostly about doing all of the things that I was too scared to do in my first two years. For example, yesterday, I died. Not really.  Obviously I'm still at least animated enough to type this blog post. Still, my death did take place during my seventh period class.  As we were reviewing the writing process for a quest tomorrow, a child said, "what is revision anyway?"  I clutched my heart, staggered backwards, and fell on the floor.  A concerned young man leaned forward and said, "CPR?"  as I hoisted myself back to my feet and proceeded to deliver an impassioned review of the subject matter. (By the way, I explained a "quest" to them as being what happened when a quiz and a test got married and had a baby.) I don't think I would have felt confident enough to fake my own death with previous groups of children.  I also, you know, introduced the concept of the writing process using individual tubs of play-doh.  (I stole that idea from a workshop.  Best lesson ever.)  And successfully tried a review using card stock and the concept of the game, "WAR." Basically, I'm a better, braver teacher than I used to be.    Some of that probably has to do with learning by doing... and experience... and maturity...  But to be honest, a lot of it has to do with finally understanding that teaching doesn't have to be a constant universe of LIFE OR DEATH. Really, what's the worst thing that can happen in a play doh lesson? <ol> <li>They don't make the connection back to content?  It's cool, we'll come at it a different way, and at least kids got a chance to do something hands-on and different.</li> <li>A kid eats the play doh?  No worries, they let preschoolers play with that stuff, no one is going to die from some harmless craft product ingestion.</li> <li>A kid doesn't clean up her play doh adequately?  They make wet wipes and lunch detentions for reasons.</li> <li>A kid throws his play doh at another kid?  Um, it's play doh.  Hard to throw with accuracy, and not too deadly on impact.  Plus, super obvious to identify the thrower when every kid has a different color "doh."  No mysterious second shooter conspiracy theories to be had there.</li> </ol> <div>(*Side note: none of these things happened.  The lesson went well from a content standpoint, and no children were harmed or unduly disciplined in the making of this learning experience.)</div> &nbsp; I don't want to make it sound like I'm not having moments of crippling young teacher anxiety.  Also, believe me, we still have days when we're sitting in rows, facing forward, taking notes, listening to direct instruction, and pretending we like it; it's not all play doh and card games and theatrical death scenes. For me, the biggest challenge of this third year is the specter of burn out.  It haunts me while I plan, stalks me into the teacher's lounge to make copies, and lurks in the deep, dark, three-year-old sunflower seed filled corners of my classroom.  So every day I'm trying to be braver, sillier, and more myself to keep the Burn Out Monster at bay. Roll me up in heat resistant play dot - there are 37 more weeks to go. katb Thu, 29 Aug 2013 02:45:38 +0100 TFA is a Tiny Dot Behind Me http://learningasleadership.teachforus.org/2013/08/04/tfa-is-a-tiny-dot-behind-me/ I can hardly believe this, but tomorrow I begin my fourth year of teaching. FOURTH YEAR. I really never dreamed I would be here. It feels good to say I've made it this far, and only partly because of all the smug TFA nay-sayers who claim that TFA teachers use TFA to get ahead, or who say TFA teachers don't care, or teach temporarily. I am a real teacher. I always was, but I feel even more so now. The main reason it feels good to be going into my fourth year is because teaching kicks ass. Teaching is so much more fun now. I'm much more confident, love my job more, love my kids more, and have better balance in my life. I still have a LOT to learn, and sometimes shake my head in disbelief at how little TFA prepared me for the reality of teaching, but I'm nowhere near bored or burned out. I'm so excited for this year. In some ways, I think TFA should be a three-year endeavor. I learned so much in my third year. Part of it was because I moved to a new school (my third school in three years) where I had more examples to observe of great teaching. I'm really excited to be staying at this school for my fourth year. Switching schools is hard. It's like starting over again completely. It's going to be nice to have some consistency and to not have to waste energy focusing on learning to navigate a new culture. I'm so excited to meet my students I can hardly stand it. I've been ready for summer to be over for weeks. Isn't that amazing??? How many people could say they would be depressed if they had two months off work? How many people would be dying to go back to work after a break? And how many teachers could even say they can't wait for their week of PD to be over so they can get their kids??? I am truly, truly blessed. I've found a school that is a good fit for me, I've found a grade I love to teach, and I've been given the opportunity to continue to strive to be the teacher my kids deserve. T.J. Sun, 04 Aug 2013 19:01:18 +0100 In which there is peace in our times http://katb.teachforus.org/2013/07/15/in-which-there-is-peace-in-our-times/ It's been a tumultuous summer to be a teacher in St. Louis. For those not living every moment of our educational soap opera, recent court decisions have made it possible for kids in unaccredited districts like mine to be transferred to fully accredited schools, on their home district's dime.  Naturally, this is turning into a hullabaloo of massive proportion as the people who are going to flip their lids and say inappropriate things say them, and the rest of us scramble to figure out what it means for us and for our kids. That said, or maybe in spite of all of the "dramz" in the STL,  it's been a peaceful summer. Looking into year 3 (same school, same subject, same classroom, same chalkboard, same everything) some of that CRAZY TEACHER ANXIETY has faded away.  Or, if it hasn't entirely faded away yet, it's at least respectfully retreated into the background until a later date.  I go back to professional development next week, and I find myself calmly anticipating seeing coworkers, rather than frantically trying to have the school year planned before I talk to anyone.  I perform the requisite back to school display freak out dance in stores like Target and Walmart, but it's mostly theatrical rather than genuine.  I haven't had any first day of school nightmares, I'm not losing hair by the fist-full, and I don't walk around giving myself motivational speeches. Confession: I spent the better part of two years composing a SCREW YOU, TEACH FOR AMERICA blog post in my head.  It was to be published on the last day of year 2, and it would have been beautiful.  Poetic even.  But when the time came, I didn't write it, because I didn't want to.  I won't ever forget, but I guess in some ways I have forgiven (don't I sound magnanimous?) Maybe, just maybe, all of this means that I have grown-up teacher syndrome at last.  Perhaps it came when I logged on to the state of Missouri's website and saw my final certification for the first time.  Mayhaps it arrived when my MTLD handed me my TFA alumni induction certificate (if you were wondering, said certificate lived in my car for 3 weeks while I moved, and it hasn't yet been unpacked).  By happenstance, it could have commenced when I realized that I no longer had to invent, or reinvent, the wheel of my classroom. There's a small, tiny, minuscule chance that perhaps I've become a calmer, more mature, increasingly level-headed human being as a result of the experiences of the last two years, but we won't linger on that. I might feel differently in a few weeks when I'm set on by a raging hoard of adorable and aggravating eleven-year-olds.  Don't hold me to this enlightened and elevated Ms. B persona or anything.  For now, though, I'm enjoying my peace, however temporary, and almost, almost, almost looking forward to a brand new year. &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; A note on future blogging - I have no idea how much I'll write or if I'll write.  I can probably guarantee that the best and worst moments will send me flying to my keyboard, but when that will happen is impossible to say in this topsy-turvy sixth grade universe. katb Tue, 16 Jul 2013 03:54:44 +0100 In which it's a question of degrees http://katb.teachforus.org/2013/05/08/in-which-its-a-question-of-degrees/ Comparisons are deadly. A few months ago, I had a case of viral Crud that kept me feeble for weeks.  I came to work every day with my low grade fever and kept all of the lights off in my classroom to delay the inevitable daily migraine.  When TFA staff came in and made the entirely reasonable suggestion that it was more difficult for the children to read by the combination of lamp- and SMARTboard light, I decided that it would also be more difficult for them to read if I died, and kept the lights off. 2 days ago, I came down with a cute little head cold.  As I sniffle and slump around school and home and the world, acting like this little bout with minor illness may prove fatal at any second, I can't possibly think back on Crud.  It ruins the illusion that what I'm experiencing now is Impossible and Difficult. A year ago I held my sanity and my kids together with a tiny thread.  Generally speaking, every class period was a disaster waiting to happen.  My precious angels, in TFA-speak, were teetering from unruly and apathetic to dangerous and destructive on a minute-by-minute basis.  This year, one kid acts a fool, or one class period is chatty, and I find it horrifying.  If my thoughts wander back to last May, I discard it as if those much bigger problems happened to someone else, and my current struggles are Earth Shattering. It's all a question of degrees of magnitude. Today is the last day of state testing (an event which incidentally is vastly more annoying this year than it was last year, I'm not sure why).  I will see all of my <em>most </em>precious angels fourteen more times before we're all released into the agony (it's boring) and bliss (it's stress-less) 0f summer vacation.  It's hard not to make comparisons at this point, hard not to wonder what I'll be wondering next year at this time (and more to the point, where I'll be when I'm wondering it). But because comparisons are deadly (and really, with this cold, I'm already at death's door), I think I'll just focus on my route for pacing during testing and on sharpening yet more pencils. katb Wed, 08 May 2013 12:58:30 +0100 In which there are thoughts on a Thursday http://katb.teachforus.org/2013/04/25/in-which-there-are-thoughts-on-a-thursday/ I haven't brought work home from school during the week for a long time.  Call it Senioritis, call it work place efficiency, call it whatever you want.   Whatever it is, I dragged a lovely and inspiring pile of student work home with me tonight, and settled down to spend 3 hours alternatively snacking and slaughtering papers with my long dormant grading pen. Here were my thoughts: <ol> <li>You're in sixth grade.  You really can't spell "first"?  WHO IS YOUR ELA TEACHER? (darn... that would be me)</li> <li>You're in sixth grade.  You really can't spell "knot," when it's written in huge font on both sides of the paper? (REALLY?!?)</li> <li>What is it about grading that makes teachers hate it and non-teachers crave it?  My roommate rarely gets to grade for me, but she acts like it's Christmas every time I let her.  Bless her heart.</li> <li> Pictures of kittens on buzzfeed are a lot more interesting than this assignment.</li> <li>The omnipresent dust bunny on my ceiling is a lot more interesting than this assignment.</li> <li>Is it too soon to start a post-it countdown until the last day of school?</li> <li>Do I have enough post-its for  a post-it countdown?</li> </ol> &nbsp; katb Fri, 26 Apr 2013 02:42:11 +0100 In which my nose grows longer http://katb.teachforus.org/2013/04/10/in-which-my-nose-grows-longer/ I think I am slowly losing cognitive function. This is being written on a clipboard on Day 2 (of 3) of district benchmark testing.  If you don't know, that means we have to give long, painful, multiple choice tests three times a year that, theoretically, predict performance on the state test. I can think of few things have <em>less</em> to do with the state test, but I digress. For me, it means doing all of the things I hate about my job, and absolutely none of the fun things.  I walk around with a clipboard looking mean, I call mamas like it's my <em>raison d'etre</em>, and I perpetually express my disbelief that <span style="text-decoration: underline">anyone</span> would dream of talking.  I'm not actually teaching at all, but I'm exhausted by the end of the day from being such a colossal witch. Seriously, I only told one lame joke all day.  Who am I? The one beacon of entertainment I get on TEST DAY is the power of the Teacher Lie. Calm down.  They're not complete lies.  Climb down off the soapbox friend, hear me out. Sometimes, it's important to extend the truth.  Performance on benchmark tests (and frankly, performance on the state test) is about 25% content knowledge, 25% stamina, and 50% investment.  If you think the test is important, you'll do well.  Children will obviously bomb a test that (a) doesn't actually have the state of Missouri's stamp on it, (b) will never go in the gradebook, and (c) is otherwise long, hard, and pointless.  However, if you are led to believe that this test has something to do with summer school assignments, or retention lists, well...  Magical results can occur.  And legitimately, these scores are saved and do come under consideration for student placement and advancement.  They're just probably somewhat less important than I intentionally lead them to believe. Oops? I mean I also give them peppermints.  Peppermints, you might not be aware, <em>magically </em>make you smarter.  For.  Real. &nbsp; Wink. &nbsp; 20 more days until the real deal.  Hopefully we all survive that long. katb Wed, 10 Apr 2013 20:49:24 +0100 In which there is a lack of certainty http://katb.teachforus.org/2013/03/09/in-which-there-is-a-lack-of-certainty/ Being a teacher means not ever being Sure. At the beginning of the year, you're not Sure where your classroom will be, or with what and with whom it will be filled.  If you're like me and you work in an unaccredited district, you're not even Sure you'll have a classroom. Kids ask you questions and you're not Sure how to answer.  Is that too personal?  Do I really remember that one bizarre exception to the rules for using quotation marks?  Is that really something you should be asking? You're not Sure how you get exposed to various diseases, like whatever strain of viral Crud that has kept me confined to my bedroom on this one beautiful day of pre-spring St. Louis weather. You're not Sure why you have the capacity to swing from chipper to crabby in the space of fifteen minutes, but you think it's probably because of all the excess middle school hormones that seep through your unwilling pores. If you're me, you're never Sure if you're actually getting there with particularly precious angels, or if they just took adequate doses of Actual Human Being pills that morning.  Or perhaps they remembered their injections of Suck Up To The Teacher, You Silly Goose medicine. The moral of the story is that even though I walk around with a certain amount of Second Year Teacher Swagg, I'm still not Sure of  a lot of things.  When I get asked if my kids acted like angels or armpits on particular days, I'm never quite Sure who is to praise or to blame for the answer. One thing I am Sure about?  The 9 days of children that are standing between me and Spring Break - aka eradicating the Crud - aka sleeping past sunrise - aka Pure Unadulterated Joy. katb Sun, 10 Mar 2013 02:46:17 +0100 In which there is February 14th http://katb.teachforus.org/2013/02/14/in-which-there-is-february-14th/ A really long time ago there was this guy named St. Valentine.  He lived in Rome and there was something about weddings.  It's really interesting, you should learn about it some time. (Yes I just wrote that paragraph.  Yes I spent today in a writing PD.  Yes I should probably be ashamed of myself.  Oops?) I have often measured time by February 14ths.  Not because I'm an ooey gooey romantic or anything; I think it has more to do with being six weeks after New Years.  It makes it something of a checkpoint or a benchmark - arguably the first of the year. Anyway, this year I have some observations to share. <ol> <li>Being a teacher on Valentine's Day is MUCH more fun when you're pulled out for Professional Development AND you have a good sub.  I had the opportunity to find pre-teen romantic excess adorable rather than immensely irritating.  It's EVEN more fun when it's a Thursday before a four day child-free weekend.</li> <li>People say funny things on social media on Valentine's Day.  Maybe the candy shuts down filters?  I'm not sure.</li> <li>Popping in on your classroom full of sugar laced/hormone fueled adolescents and having them immediately shut their mouths and say - MAN MS. B REALLY IS HERE TODAY - is incredibly satisfying.</li> <li>Middle school Valentinian politics have gotten much more complicated than when I was a kid.  Children today gifted each other with cupcakes, enormous stuffed animals, and fresh flowers.  In my youth we maybe gave our friends a fun-sized bag of skittles, but then we called it a day.</li> <li>Today my principal brought cupcakes for FEMALE STAFF MEMBERS ONLY.  This seemed perhaps bizarrely homophobic?  Or just ragingly sexist?  I haven't really decided yet.</li> <li>Ultimately, this is a hilarious holiday.  Middle schoolers (and people who spend too much time around middle schoolers) are hilarious people.  Secretly, I love my job.</li> </ol> xoxo katb Fri, 15 Feb 2013 00:25:16 +0100