So Long, So Wrong

My teacher persona: 180 degrees different. I’ve stopped fighting the battle against a little talking. I’ve found my sense of humor. Most of my students seem to like me now. And I like to think we get more done than ever.

By now, my time as a Peace Corps Volunteer teacher in Namibia feels so far away and so long ago, it almost seems like something that happened to another person. I hate it when people ask about my time in Africa, because sometimes, when I have to explain myself, the whole thing almost seems like two wasted years, and I was a pitiful teacher, with nothing to show for it. But the reality is, twelve months ago, I was in Africa. I know there is this stereotype of Africans or foreign students in general that they are all over there sitting cross-legged under a banana tree or something, hunched over their meager writing tablets and very eagerly awaiting instruction, and whatever, but that is basically bullshit, and certainly nothing was further from the truth in my experience. As a teacher, where the majority of my students were at least 6 grades behind where they should have been in every essential academic skill, where the boarding school hostel was worse than a prison, etc., etc., the situation was so hopeless, so absurd really, I think it is almost impossible to compare my experience there to any school in the United States—the Mississippi Delta included. It made me a pretty tough costumer, battle hardened and stern. When my fancy-pants liberal arts-grad mentor teacher this summer labeled my teaching style “militant,” I finally retorted, “If you came from where I come from, you’d be like this, too.” To his credit, he agreed. An ex-something writes to our PC newsgroup: “still processing through some of the bad habits I acquired in Namibian schools and reinventing myself as a kindhearted teacher,” and I have to agree with her. My entire teaching persona, my tactics and expectations, were built around keeping the 95% in line in order to teach the other 5% who cared. And by the way, language alone makes a world of difference. There, I had to squelch almost all talking, because the children would speak in their mother tongues, which of course I did not understand.

In the last few weeks, my classroom persona has changed so dramatically, I actually find it rather difficult to articulate in words. Basically, my disposition has become more like the best parts of me in real-life. I am more and more relaxed and pleasantly calm, to the point of near indifference, and because I spend a lot less effort telling the kids to shut up, I spend more time listening to my students. I have become more responsive and developed friendlier relationships with almost all of my students. (Students have such short memories!) Overall, I have to say I have become the teacher I always wanted to be. Who knew all I had to do was loosen my grip a little? (Okay, a lot.) There is an expression in ice hockey that a player is gripping his stick too tight (meaning he has lost his touch), and I think the same can be said of teachers.

Our fearless Teacher Corps leader, Ben Guest, has given us an assignment to spend two weeks enforcing our rules and consequences “every time” and blog about the results. Now, never mind the impossibility of objectively applying rules “every time,” as two reasonable people can disagree about the application of a defined set of rules to a football game, with the benefit of video replay, let alone some momentary judgment call by a teacher, one person against a room full of twenty or more rambunctious adolescents. Simply put, the Guestian model of classroom management focuses merely on a Pavlovian concept of behavior: Reward the good behavior, and punish the bad. For the record, I appreciate Ben, and there is a lot to what he has to say. But give me a break. There is a lot more to classroom management than electric shocks and doggie biscuits. Say, for instance, building a positive rapport with your students, conveying that you care about them, and setting expectations that are both reasonable and productive. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I still enforce rules. But I think my expectations are a hundred times more productive now than they were before. I enforce more on substance, and I let the little banter and stuff go.

Another big adjustment that has been very successful has been to give a short quiz twice a week, every Tuesday and Thursday. In the present incarnation, my quizzes (or “Opportunities” as I call them) are easy to grade, since they consist of basically one or two problems, on a pass/fail basis (they have to get 90% or get a zero and retake it). These little quizzes have proven so invaluable as a regular, routine assessment, it is hard to understand how I ever thought I was teaching without doing this! This is holding the students much more accountable to what I need them to learn than, say homework (easy to cheat, hard to grade, and easy to procrastinate) and the infrequent test or long pop quiz. Committing to this twice-a-week schedule really keeps my pulse on the students’ achievement, and actually seems to help them stay motivated. My wall of “Excellence” has started to run out of room lately! My high expectations (basically perfect or you retake it) do often result in a lot of retakes, but that does not bother me. If they get a “retake” grade, the students have to come to me after school. (If they don’t do so, it simply reflects a true lack of effort. If they do, they will not complain when they start to see those 100%’s on their progress reports!) When they are ready, I tell them to put everything away, take out a clean sheet of paper, and then I give them the exact same questions all over again. Am I worried that they will memorize the answers? Not really, because they still have to show their work and all the steps of the process. If they can memorize all that, it is basically the same as doing it! And because the retakes are just the same quiz over again, it makes my job very easy. There is no penalty for retaking an “Opportunity,” no matter how many times you have to do it (except no longer eligible for potential bonus points), because the emphasis is on getting it right, no matter how long it takes, not on catching them getting it wrong.

Not to say everything is perfect, but things are definitely getting better overall, week by week. I had a fabulous lesson this week with my Algebra II classes. I took them on a “field trip” out into the hallways, where I had them graphing parabolas on the grid lines of the intersecting floor tiles, marking their points with random little green plastic cubes I found in my classroom cupboard. The students really seemed to enjoy the change of environs and medium, and their ability to accomplish the objective nearly exceeded my expectations. By the way, it was a revelation for me to see exactly how many students go up and down the halls all day long at my school (proving this is the Mississippi Delta, after all?!?!), but it was cool to be out there having math fun for everyone to see.

EDSE 600: Understanding Poverty

Dr. Ruby Payne’s expansive definition of poverty includes the shortage (or potential shortage?) of emotional, mental, relationship, and support resources, etc., rather than merely financial resources. A Framework for Understanding Poverty elucidates the cultural traits of poverty that may not be understood by members of the middle class. There are many aspects of her generalizations (stereotypes?) that ring true to my experience teaching in the Mississippi Delta, such as the predominance of the “casual register” of speaking, loud noisy-ness, ownership of people (e.g. in response to question about “most-prized possession”), distrust of authority, a certain amount of disorganization and focus on the present, etc. Again, one of the most powerful points the author makes is that economic class is not simply a matter of having money or not having money. For instance, the so-called “hidden rules” of class (such as how to keep your clothes from being stolen at the laundromat or bail someone out of jail vs. how to set up a retirement fund and enroll your kids in soccer camp), as well as the various cultural and relationship ties, make it exceedingly difficult for someone to move to another economic class without someone to sponsor them and/or leaving behind old relationships. The book ends with a bit of psycho-babble about how the cultural traits and living conditions of poverty lead to cognitive deficits, such as the inability to identify consequence and put things in order. Accordingly, these poverty-linked cognitive deficits ought to be directly addressed at school, rather than diagnosed as special ed.

Certainly, A Framework for Understanding Poverty has made me take a second look at my own perceptions of my students. I know there must be students living in poverty at my school. But I also wonder how much the culture of poverty (“ghetto,” if you will) pervades my school regardless of how much money comes home. While the book has caused me to pause for thought, it will take some time for me to absorb everything I read and deliberately implement any of it in the classroom. Besides subtly informing my classroom management, the idea of making a thematic unit about personal finance (esp. the evils of predatory lending in all its forms) has occurred to me, perhaps with a little discussion about the “hidden rules” of middle class thrown in for good measure.

For now, I just crash-land on my bed at the end of the week and wake up an hour or so later, so disoriented I can’t even remember what day of the week it is or whether I just overslept something really important.

Good New$

Despite yesterday’s excessive self-recrimination—and despite the written Job Discrepancy Form found in my mailbox at school this morning (for not turning in a Fixed Asset Form last Friday, which was mentioned to us approximately once, without any subsequent reminder)—today was a good day.

The principal came to my classroom this morning to deliver a copy of a letter which informs me / my school / the district that I have been selected for a $5000 “REACH” award. Hooray! This develops out of an application I had to drive down to Jackson and hand deliver last month in order to get it in on time. Well, I guess it was worth the trouble. It looks like I get $2000 in December and the other $3000 when I finish the school year, but I have to submit a variety of paperwork, attend a workshop or two (Yippee! Substitutes, anyone?), etc.

Today we had our regular Tuesday after-school staff meeting. Every other week or so, we spend time on professional development for our IBO Middle Years Program. Today, we made hot air balloons out of tissue paper. I was in a group of full-figured black women ranging in age from my own age to that of my parents. Being white and male and not from around here, I was the exception to my group, but it was a nice team-building activity. I learned that the inclusion teacher who often visits my classroom, for instance, once almost married a Zambian man and was about to move to Zambia, learn the tribal language, and all that business, before she finally broke off the engagement. Oh yeah, and I won some Vis-à-Vis markers for reciting the five areas of interaction.

On the way home from school today, I made a stop by a neighborhood corner market to visit my student Mocha. In class today, I had passed around a paper so my students would write down their extra-curricular activities, such as band or football, as well as their position and uniform number or instrument, so I could pick them out of the crowd when I go to see a game or performance. Well that lead to a brief exchange with Mocha about how she works after school at her parents’ store and where that is. As she was describing its location, she mentioned “where the bad people are.” I told her not to say it like that, but I knew exactly what she was talking about. The street is definitely in the ghetto part of town. The visit was not something I planned ahead of time, just an idea that struck me as I pedaled home. Mocha seemed really proud to lead me to the adjoining shop and introduce me to her mother as Mr. A, her Algebra II teacher. See, Mocha and I had our troubles during the first week of school. She hated my strict rules, which I have since eased up on somewhat, and I think she even got ISS for her attitude with me. The next Monday, however, she brought me a very nice, written apology, and ever since then Mocha has been one of my best, model students. It was really great to be able to tell her mother face to face, and praise how bright she is, how happy I am to have Mocha in my class. So, look, I contacted a parent! All on my own! Yay!!

Destination: Procrastination

Do you recognize the subtle distinction between the terms “computer game” and “video game”? I do. I have never owned a Nintendo, Sega, PlayStation, or X-Box of any kind, but having grown up on the likes of King's Quest, Ultima, and Civilization, I have a weakness for the kind of games you play with a keyboard attached. Some people smoke. Some people watch too much TV. Some people hang out in abandoned parking lots, have irresponsible sex, get stoned, jump out of airplanes, eat too much, spend money, etc. I play computer games.

So we made it to Labor Day. Almost a month of teaching is done and over. A stack of imperfections to contemplate, but it could have been worse. A lot worse. I have decided to give myself credit for the parts of my classroom management that are going right. The kids are getting more and more used to starting the block off how I want them to: Quietly in their seats and working on the warm-up by the time the bell rings. And I spend very little time in class fighting the discipline battle. Still the occasional, “Go back where you came from!” out of the obstinate, but they get ISS.

Still, I feel almost lucky that things are going as well as they are, because there are a lot of positive things I could be doing much better. I have awarded class points consistently, but the promised benefit of a party (for 200 points) is so distant at this point as to seem unlikely to motivate much. Still, the students do care at least a little bit, because occasionally they will remind me that they have been good and deserve another point or two. Unfortunately, no class has earned a Friday Fun Day since the first week. I really do look for moments to reward my Transition class with points, but the thought occurs to me that I may be too stingy with my Algebra II classes, because I have higher expectations for their behavior. I know I have not done very well with my individual rewards. I have given out a few tickets, but awarded no prizes yet as a benefit of receiving said tickets, so the students still have barely any idea what they are for. Shame on me. I have a couple boxes of chocolates sitting my refrigerator, intended for the secretaries and the janitor lady who sweeps my classroom. But the gifts have been sitting there for weeks now, because, out of shyness and what? busy-ness? I cannot bring myself to give them over. My Students of the Week still have not received any tangible recognition of the honor. At first, I planned to post their pictures in class along with a short bio they prepared, but now I think I just want to print certificates to give them. Still hasn’t happened though. And the worst part? I still have yet to pick up the phone and dial a single parent.

Now playing: Lacuna Coil, “Self Deception.” I picked up this CD at Wal-Mart for 9 bucks the other day, and now I have it on repeat play. The insert booklet art includes goth chick frontwoman Cristina Scabbia squatted with a long fold of black satin falling between her open, naked thighs.

Liar, you tempt me.

Oh, I don’t know what to do.
No guilt is in my heart.
I don’t know what to do.
I’m not the reason.

I wish I could say all that. But I feel like I am the liar. I know exactly what to do, I just have not done it. And the guilt is in my heart.

To be fair, everything I listed above as things I wish I were doing better are things I have never really done before, despite my two years experience teaching in Africa. There, there were no parents. And I used to just toss candy around; my rewards were never so idealistically, systematically arranged. At least I admit my weaknesses. I console myself with the thought that as long as I am still improving and trying new things, even if I am not doing everything perfectly, at least I am heading in the right direction. Right?

Do you sense a regression since my last post? Well, I reneged on my resolution and brought work home with me this weekend. Progress reports are due this upcoming Thursday, and I plan to give tests on Tuesday and Wednesday. Got a stack of grading and phone calling to do between now and then. Still have not touched it. Thus the guilt. Reminds me of school, as a student. The difference is that, come tomorrow morning, there will be no skipping of class. I refer to this as “bend without breaking.”

I got a memo in my mailbox Friday from Mr. Bic. He started off by thanking me and congratulating me for a job well done. Then he got down to business and told me to stop writing up kids for failure to complete the punishment I assign them. He went on to imply that I am not doing my job, like other teachers are, because I am not calling the parents myself first. Well, forget that he was the one who told me I could write them up for this in the first place. He is right, in a way. And at least he said it in a nice way.

When you get right down to it, I hate telephones. Sometimes I can picture myself picking up the phone and having a conversation with these so-called parents of mine, telling them how their son or daughter is or is not doing this or that in my class, encouraging them to exhort their child to try harder, etc. I can read over my blog from the summer and note my earlier optimism about how I was going to contact parents proactively, and when I picture it in my mind, it seems almost easy. What was I thinking? Nothing terrifies me more than telephones. I think I have a bona fide phobia of talking to the wrong person, calling at the wrong time, and saying the wrong things. The disembodied voices without context and a shyness I never got over. Just answering the telephone all day long for a tech support call center was one of the hardest jobs I ever had (besides teaching)—at least for the first month or so. I underestimated how much this is still a hurdle for me, and I realize now how intensely I have been avoiding the task, making excuses for myself and considering myself too busy to make some calls today. Perhaps I need to start really small. Like, say, the kids who fail to complete my punishment.

Escapism: In response to nebulous dissatisfactions, I turn to an alternative reality, a stimulus so strong that I actually forget about the real reality which depresses me. I despise card games and first-person shooters; they bore me. I consider myself Teh Thikning Mans Pwner: If it doesn’t have a story or statistics or strategy, then I am not interested. It has to be something I can put my mind to. Something immersive. Like role-playing games. Or strategy. And now you know the truth of how I pass the days, outside of school.

To be sure, I celebrated the opening weekend of college football in style. Traveled to Rosedale with the Merry D. to watch my high school get whooped up on Friday night. It was an exercise in offensive futility: Our Trojans turned it over at least 6 times. But the defense played valiantly, and we held the opposition to zero offensive points for the second half. I can hardly wait to make a little speech in Algebra II commending my cornerback’s defense and praising their commitment, even in the face of despair, esp. a goal-line stand in the waning seconds, with nothing left to play for but pride. Also talked the same company into joining me the next evening, an unusually comfortable, beautiful Saturday in the 70’s, to travel all of a few blocks from here to watch Delta State’s football opener. The opponent: West Virginia Tech. The final score: 61-0 to the green and white Fighting Okra. We have a pretty good local Division II football team here, apparently. It looked a little bit like college players against a high school team, and the score was 45-0 just at the half! Afterwards, the Merry D. and I sought to lighten our souls at La Cabana and their 32-oz. draft beers. It was a lot of beer. We had to walk it off afterwards, so we made an impromptu trip to Wal-Mart, where Merry claims I said the f-word in front of one of my students. Oops.

Last night he and I got together once more and traveled down to Leland to have supper with a couple other Teacher Corps classmates who, like Merry, also happen to be graduates of Williams College. Hooray for Williams! I friend you. Merry cooked butternut squash soup, which tasted splendidly like pumpkin pie, and someone else made some pasta with bacon in it. Yummy! It was a deliberate Sunday supper get-together, filled with every intent to become a tradition I want to be a part of. The camaraderie, the sharing of stories, lesson ideas, frustrations, etc., took place casually, with a sense of humor, in a way that was lacking in Oxford last weekend. Afterwards, we made a midnight run to Dodge's Fried Chicken (a gas station) in order to buy ice cream treats. We stood around in the parking lot, making fun of people who hang out at gas station parking lots, until we realized that we were those people, and then we left abruptly.

But the loneliness remains. I would not be so preoccupied with leveling up my Morrowind character of late if everything were peaches and ice cream wonderful. At least I am not playing Second Life or Eve Online. I have not played today. But I have not really done any work either.

Ben Guest called out of the blue just now to check up on me. He asked how the contacting parents is going.