Reality 101: CEC's blog for new teachers

Brad: “I Am Going to Drive You All Crazy”



It happens every year. Right about this time, I begin to hear about the new ninth graders our school will have next fall. Exasperated sighs are quickly followed by rumors and innuendo like “they’ll be adding 15 students to each of our caseloads” and “this one student drove two of the middle-school teachers into early retirement.”

No doubt, even in my short tenure teaching, I’ve seen some hardscrabble ninth graders, many with shaky academics and poor social skills. While I’ve nearly lost my faith a few times, I’m happy to say that I’ve always been willing to search for a seed of optimism.

For example: Last Wednesday, I lost it after a ninth-grade student in my classroom spent 90 minutes waving his hand in the air and making coughing noises to disrupt the class. I told him to go to the hallway, mostly just to give myself a moment to think of what to do next. Within 30 seconds, he rapped at the door, laughing and pointing his finger in the shape of a gun through the window. I fell back on the familiar, the only response I’d been able to quietly model and then teach others. I ignored him.

But as Anthony kicked the door with his sneakers, I admitted to myself that my method wasn’t working — what he was asking for was more attention, not less.

Megan: My Special Education Fairy Tale

Once upon a time, there was a little girl who dreamed of being a teacher. . . .

This week I covered a unit on fairy tales. As my students brainstormed all the fairy tales they had ever read, I realized that sometimes my role is to be my classroom’s fairy godmother: perky, cheerful, bestowing little nuggets of knowledge into my students’ receptive (if not always eager) minds.

My room feels even more like a living fairy tale when one of my little friends refuses to answer a question unless we add “Princess” to her name — and I can’t even make up the fact that sometimes she wears a tiara to school (I might, too, if I could get away with it). And I conjure Cinderella as I frantically try to fit little gym shoes on little impatient feet before PE; one boy thought it was hilarious that I called him “Cinderfella.”

Some days I am so beloved that one student actually exclaimed, “Miss M, I love you more than chocolate cake!” That’s a serious compliment from a second grader. And other days . . . well, apparently I am meaner and nastier than any evil stepmother, warts and all.

My class has been settling into new routines, with new successes every day. I love the magic of the moment when a student does something new that I’ve taught them. I was so proud when my littlest guy, who only got one word right on that first spelling test in August, got all ten grade-level spelling words right on last week’s test. He was so proud to see this represented on his self-monitoring graph. When another student who typically cries before any daunting task said, “I love reading tests! I know I can do this!” I wanted to cry, too. If my student with selective mutism would only talk to me, I’d call it a day.

Sheena: Past and Present

My restless nights as a Peace Corps volunteer in Niger, West Africa, were spent with a pair of portable speakers and Nina Simone’s wisdom. Her songs became my ray of hope and comfort as I lay under the moon and a mosquito net, covered by the blanket of the night.

I joined the Peace Corps in 2006 because I needed a change from my comfortable, mundane life as an office assistant in the United States. As a young, Black college graduate, I knew I did not want to get stuck in a meaningless existence. I wanted to contribute to society in ways that really mattered.

Lurking in my subconscious was this lovely, precious dream that Nina Simone so desperately wanted the world to believe in. This was the American Dream that I, in my youthfulness, was fearless enough to pursue. I made the bold decision to travel, learn new languages, and gain experience in international development. It was exhilarating to announce that I would give up air conditioning and clean drinking water for two years to make my humble contribution to the world.

With Simone’s commanding, lyrical voice at my side, I “opened my heart.” However, on my journey through the harmattan sandstorms of West Africa, I would be forced to ponder how this dream differs for individuals depending on their cultural and personal needs.

Melissa: I Care, Part 2

Wow! I thought I would write a follow-up to all of the comments on my last post. Thank you all so much for taking the time to share your thoughts. Because of confidentiality issues, I can’t tell “the whole story,” but I will try to touch on as much as I can.  :o)

I do have a very positive relationship with this student. He has told me I am the best teacher he has ever had and that he loves talking to me. He tells me more things than I care to know (you know, middle-school boy stuff like socks and girlfriends and bloody video games). We’ve had lots of talks about how smart I KNOW he is.

My students and I have taken learning-style inventories, most recently about two weeks ago. I have a wide range of learning styles in my room and try to incorporate them as much as possible. This particular student scores high in the areas of visual and kinesthetic learning.

Students have lots of choices when it comes to showing me what they know. For example, right now in language arts we are doing a lesson I call “Choose Your Own Literary Adventure.” Each student read the book of his choice and then selected a related project from a menu of options. They could write a letter to a character, develop a test on the book, write an imaginary interview with a character, make posters to advertise the book or the genre, design new book covers, or write fortune cookie fortunes to characters based on what happened to them. So there’s lots of cool stuff going on with this project.

Brad: Teaching Youth with Emotional Disabilities: The Long and Winding Road



The Individuals with Disabilities Education Act (IDEA) defines emotional disturbance as follows:

 “...a condition exhibiting one or more of the following characteristics over a long period of time and to a marked degree that adversely affects a child’s educational performance:

 (A) An inability to learn that cannot be explained by intellectual, sensory, or health factors.

 (B) An inability to build or maintain satisfactory interpersonal relationships with peers and teachers.

 (C) Inappropriate types of behavior or feelings under normal circumstances.
 
 (D) A general pervasive mood of unhappiness or depression.

 (E) A tendency to develop physical symptoms or fears associated with personal or school problems.”

I can remember a time not too long ago when I didn’t have a clue about what I would need to know in the future. I wasn’t worried about it. The future would come. And it did, along with many tough lessons about how not to handle certain situations.

When we’re young, most of us are capable of learning lessons through direct experience, even if we aren’t paying attention when our parents, teacher, school counselor, and Aunt Lydia try to tell us that it isn’t a good idea to play by the river in winter (just as an example).

Melissa: I Care

Lately I’ve been struggling with something in my classroom. I’d like to think there’s a magical answer out there that will somehow make its way into my brain, but in reality I’m not sure there is a black-and-white solution to this problem.

My question: How do you make a student care? You know, that genuine, intrinsic desire to do well — just to do well, not get something extra out of it? Is it even possible to make someone else care?

Most of my students do what is assigned, turn it in on time, and make corrections when asked. They care about doing a good job and getting a good grade. If they need more time than what was given for a particular assignment, no problem, as long as they have been working on it.

My students have a great range of writing speeds. One could write a novel over a weekend (in fact, he has), while others struggle to turn thoughts into words. You need an extra day or two? I’m cool with that. I care more that they are truly learning and can demonstrate that somehow (I’m pretty flexible with the “how”). But you gotta give me . . . something.

I’ve been a bit more experimental in my approach this year, trying to discover ways to motivate certain students. But at what point do I switch from accommodating needs to enabling apathy?

Megan: Blizzard

“Gray skies are gonna clear up, put on a happy face!” ~ Bye Bye Birdie

Brrr! Here in the lovely land of Chi-town, a blizzard has hit. It is the third-worst snow in Chicago history. The mounds of snow are piled chest high, and the temperature is 30 below with the wind chill. The only redemption is the shining sun and clear, blue skies!

As I navigated through snow piles as tall as my car, I reflected upon my current situation. There is a blizzard in my classroom -- a blustery storm of activity and adjustment. The white piles of paper rival the snow drifts outside. The remnant scraps on the floor from cutting out hundreds of Boardmaker pictures and file folder games look like the snowflakes blowing across the icy parking lot. And the mood of my classroom? Not nearly as sunny as the bright, but frigid, day outside.

My classroom has evolved once more (but then again, if things stayed the same, where would the fun be?). It seems as if every two months there is a major shift in my roster. We had only just gotten settled in when I received two new students within three days in October. The holidays passed with hustle and bustle, and now two more new students have started within a week of each other. So my classroom is in a state of flux again.