Reality 101: CEC's blog for new teachers

Brad: Mai’s Story: Education’s Enduring Support

Over time, I’ve found that when I’m called to a conversation in a quiet and empty hallway, it’s usually a situation I’m capable of handling. But last fall, I encountered one that I was sure I couldn’t handle.

Mai, a 17-year-old student in our life skills program, stood with her back to the blue ceramic tile wall. She stared at a point on the floor just beyond her tiny sandaled feet. Ms. Lynn, our classroom’s teacher assistant, put her hand on Mai’s shoulder: “Mai, go on and tell Mr. B what you told me.”

Lakes of tears welled in Mai’s eyes and as she turned her head toward the long emptiness of the hallway she said, “I think I’m pregnant and I’m scared.”

Once the words registered, I looked to Ms. Lynn. She drew a long breath and let it out with a sigh. Mai put her head back down and sniffled. Without really knowing it, in the moment I began to speak, I placed my faith in what our school would do to help and abandoned words like could or should. Could and should are words for political, philosophical, and hypothetical situations, not real ones like Mai’s.

Within the next few days, Mai’s pregnancy was confirmed and we learned that the father was her boyfriend, another student in our life skills classroom. We met with Mai’s family and her boyfriend’s family. We helped Mai set up the necessary pre-natal care appointments and helped arrange transportation supervision and training so she could attend them. A short time later, when Mai lost the support of her family, we helped arrange foster placement and began to teach Mai the basics of caring for herself and preparing for a baby. I also learned that our district has a school that offers a curriculum and community support for pregnant teens, so we began to think of ways we could tailor that program for a student who receives special education services, like Mai.

Melissa: Changes

I’ve always hated the expression “the more things change, the more they stay the same,” but that currently sums up my life at school.

When I show up Monday morning, things will be drastically different than they were just last week. One of my students moved over the weekend, so my group of six is now down to five. Losing a student in any class makes a difference, but when one student makes up about 17% of your class, it’s a pretty significant change. And because this was a particularly challenging student, the changes will be, um, pretty darn big.

Because I now have fewer students, I am also losing a paraprofessional during the morning. Administratively, I completely understand the move. Professionally, I know my class will be just fine with one para instead of two. But personally, it kinda stinks. When you work with someone every day for three semesters, especially when he is a very good someone, it’s hard to think about him not being there anymore. I am very glad he gets to stay with us for the part of the afternoon when my students split into two groups and go to two separate general ed classes during my planning time.

Melissa: Happy New Year! Anyone Know What a “Noob” Is?

Like my fellow blogger Megan wrote in her last post, one of the best things about being a teacher is that we get two New Year’s celebrations. We have our Happy Back-to-School New Year in the fall, as well as the “regular” Happy New Year celebration in January.

New beginnings are fun; each one is a fresh chance to try something different, take a chance, and just celebrate life. This year, as usual, I find myself making a shiny new list of resolutions. I have made the following resolutions to round out the remainder of the 2010-11 school year:

Brad: Getting Students to Go Beyond the Classroom

“The journey itself is delight.”— Rousseau

Last week Partners Club (a group I co-sponsor that connects students with and without disabilities through athletics and social activities) resumed its weekly ski outings. Although it had been uncharacteristically warm throughout the last week or so, there was still plenty of snow on the mountain.

As the kids climbed the hill in sets of twos and threes, I was genuinely moved by how our club really does impact every student beyond the classroom. In every sport, but especially in skiing, there’s a level of trust and care required to get students not only up the hill in cold weather, but also down again in a way that respects their level of athletic, psychological, and spiritual comfort. However, long before a student with a disability buckles into ski boots, he or she must hop over the first hurdle to getting involved with the club: getting out of the house.

Each Monday morning, my class discusses what they did that weekend, and the only response more common than watching television, playing video games, or sleeping is the ever-ubiquitous “nothing.” I often find that for some students this response is the ticket out of talking. But for a few of them, I realize that “nothing” is really an accurate summation of their weekend. And for a teacher who values student skills like connectedness, independence, and engagement, that realization is tough to make.

Megan: New Year, New Beginnings

“Here’s to a new year and another chance to get it right.” ~ Oprah Winfrey

As a teacher, I feel like I get two New Year’s. Of course, every August full of anticipation and excitement. But the calendar also gives me a second chance in January, when my engine is usually not running at full steam. I welcome the opportunity to reflect and make a fresh start half-way through the school year.

I’m not a fan of New Year’s resolutions. Rather than make a list of things I probably won’t follow through on past January 15 (like maintaining my gym membership or giving up “Jersey Shore”), I instead make a list of goals for myself. I don’t set start or end dates; I just hope to complete them by Dec. 31.

First up in 2011, I plan to heed some advice from my grandma. She once told me that you can spot a good mother when every one of her children thinks he or she is the favorite.

I am not a mother, but I think the same rule can be applied to teaching. So my goal this year is for all my students to think that they are my favorite. I’ll admit there are days I am at my wit’s end, but my job is to make sure they never sense that frustration. I’d like to never again hear them say, “No one loves me.” I want my students to feel loved and secure in my room, like they are indispensable to our classroom family.

Sheena: One Stroke at a Time

Happy new year! Students and teachers alike returned to school this week feeling relaxed and refreshed.

In one of my classes, we asked students to write about a new goal for their language arts course. The seventh graders’ resolutions included: Change my attitude. Do my homework. Finish my classwork. Pay attention. It was an uplifting way to start the week, having our kids share their commitments to change.

Speaking of which, I kept my resolution to join a swim team. I made it to the first practice of Masters Club this week and was so nervous about being out of shape compared to other swimmers. My mind was plagued with images of gripping the wall in fatigue after each drill and being passed repeatedly by swim-mates sharing my lane. But as it turned out, the coach was a gentle, jovial soul who paired me with another swimmer who, like myself, was returning to swimming after a seven-year hiatus. We immediately bonded and shared some time in the hot tub after our 90-minute practice.

Each lap was just a lap. The coach advised us to take it easy and work on our form. He told me I needed to bend my arm with each stroke in freestyle, and I tried to focus on that skill with each lap. Being a teacher, I immediately compared my physical actions—focusing on each movement to complete a full stroke—to student learning. Teachers, like coaches, support students by providing them with skills that they can practice until it become part of their metacognitive process. My getting back into shape is similar to a student’s becoming proficient in a standard. Each stroke is supported by a skill that must be actively developed, practiced, and eventually owned.