This might be the first post in which I do not have at least a vague idea of where it will go. It's been two weeks since you last heard from me, and to be honest not much has happened. Well, that's not entirely the case. Even as I type those words I can think of a hundred reasons why they're not true. I suppose much has happened, but very little of it seems story-worthy. Considering what I gleaned over the summer in stories from teachers who had recently completed their first year, it's no surprise to me that teaching has taken over a considerable portion of my life. It occupies not only my time but also the majority of my thoughts. On the whole, I think I've been getting better over the past few weeks. My lessons are sharper, I'm getting more people involved, and I'm becoming more efficient with my time in the classroom. I'm finding ways to reach students at different levels of learning. I'm trying my best to think about each student's individual learning experience, which is more than a lot of teachers can say.
That doesn't prevent me from having a slew of worries and concerns. Sometimes I wish I was more experienced, as if I'm letting students down because I just don't know how to do things that would be simple if had been teaching for a few years. I'm still adjusting to being a disciplinarian, and I've had several moments in which I could have made a more forceful demonstration but decided against it. My largest class has a tendency to get noisy, and I always think about the students who genuinely want to be there, who genuinely want to learn. Again, I feel like I'm letting them down by not emphasizing why it's disrespectful to talk out of turn and establishing concrete consequences for those who do.
On a related note, I'm also trying not to take things quite so seriously. I think it's great that I'm thinking about what's happening in my classes and working at things upon which I need to improve, but I don't want to get lost in my thoughts. It's interesting; I think a lot of teachers are affected by what their students do in class, and bad behavior and poor test scores are what they take home with them in terms of baggage. I leave those things behind rather easily. I give my students a clean slate every day, and it's not even a conscious effort for me to do that. I'm much harder on myself than I am on them. It's the nagging feeling that I'm not doing everything I could that gives me a heavy feeling when I fall asleep at night. On the flip side, if I feel like I gave it my all on a given day then I can rest easy regardless of what happened in class or how they did on a test. So far I've had more days like the latter than the former, so it's been a good month.
So what does it all mean? It means I'm pretty happy with how things are going considering that it's my first year teaching. It also means that I enter moods in which I'm very hard on myself, and I get lost in my head, close myself off a bit from the rest of the world. I don't like being in moods like that. I'm at my best when I open myself up to whatever the world has to offer me, when I let things flow through me. I'm just now exiting one of those closed-off places, and I think even writing down these words helps to put it behind me.
Here's another thing that oddly added to my overly-stuck-in-my-head mood. I'll be back home in Chicago in 12 days, and as the wait fell below two weeks I became increasingly nostalgic. I started listening to XRT on iTunes, in addition to my weekly Breakfast with the Beatles fix. I heard Eddie Vedder's tribute to the Cubs (it sounds a lot like an Irish drinking song, which I think is a perfect fit for this franchise). I watched the Cubs-Brewers game yesterday, which fortuitously aired on Fox when the Yankees rained out. I wish I was there for the playoff celebrations and for the first round games. I got excited for Derrick Rose's first practice as a Bull, and I thought about how cool it will be to have Neil Funk do the play-by-play on television now instead of radio. Then I remembered that I won't be watching many Bulls games this year (except for the MLK B-day game against the Knicks in the Garden--I'm totally buying tickets). Kristina told me about her run along Sheridan Road, and I missed running my favorite route during the best time of the year to run. I miss Gulliver's and Northwestern and bowling with Zev. I miss Sunday night barbecues at Mom's and Dad's cozy living room. I could go on. It's truly astonishing to think that a place can be such a part of who you are. When you open yourself up and let the world flow through you, a lot of things stick. I can't wait for those last 12 days to go by.
I've also had moments where I stop, look around, and say to myself, "I can't believe that I'm here." Sometimes it's in the middle of a class looking at the faces of students I'm only beginning to know. Sometimes it's on the corner of 5th Avenue and 59th Street and I realize I'm in New York City. I had a moment last Sunday that made me feel very lucky to be here. I ran for about 19 miles, which included two bridges, a trip past the United Nations, a spectacular view of the Brooklyn Bridge, and my first run through my favorite areas of Brooklyn. The run itself was fantastic. It was a gorgeous day, I finished and I didn't feel completely exhausted (which makes me feel good about the marathon), and I ended up in Prospect Park. Prospect Park is sort of like Central Park Lite. There's something different about it, something more intimate. I sat in a meadow resting my weary legs and watching a trio of twenty-somethings toss a ball back and forth for something like a half hour. The moment provided a calmness that can only come in contrast to the constant activity of the great metropolis.
I think I'll leave you with that thought. I'm glad that the Cubs drew the Dodgers for the first round of the playoffs. I'd rather face Manny than Johan. Eddie Vedder sang, "Someday we'll go all the way." Let's hope it's this October.
Sunday, September 28, 2008
Sunday, September 14, 2008
My first two weeks
Has it been two weeks already? The days fly by faster than I can account for them. Let me give you an update as to how it's been so far. First of all, it's time consuming. So far I have been waking up extremely early in the morning to prepare for the upcoming day and to try to work ahead. I find myself passing out at 9 o'clock at night as a result--usually with a geometry book in my hands.
It's frustrating. I think I'm generally enthusiastic when I'm in front of the class, but I can tell when people are tuning me out. It's difficult policing 30 kids and trying to get all of them into it. I'm constantly aware of moments in which I don't take enough of an authoritative stance or I lose a teachable opportunity. I teach a lesson and afterward know I could have done it better. I want to come up with teaching strategies and activities that allow students to take ownership of their learning, to learn by discovery, but it's hard because I have virtually no tools in my utility belt. Other teachers tell me I shouldn't worry about being interesting, that I should focus on simply getting them to buy into my routine. They're right in many ways--that part is far more important--but I think making my class more interesting would help in getting them to buy in.
With all that being said, I think it's fantastic. I genuinely enjoy coming to work every day. Sometimes my exuberance is irrepressible. I can tell when teachers are bogged down and weary, which I've been more than a few times already, and it's nice when I can add a burst of energy and optimism to the atmosphere. The individual classes are ridiculous. One day a class will drive you crazy while another is like a gift from up above, and the next day the roles are totally reversed. It teaches you to let go after each class, whether they've been good or bad. I knew from the get-go not to take any negativity home with me. Sometimes it's just a bad day. You have to release it, think about what you can do better, and come to the next day with a fresh perspective. It's actually not as hard as it seems.
My geometry students took their first test on Friday. The results so far have been fairly predictable. A lot of very poor grades, but several excellent grades as well. I know the students with whom I need to spend more time, and I know those who I need to keep challenged. The funny part is that I had a group of students who were complaining about the material because they had already taken a version of the course last year. They wanted to work ahead and go at their own pace because they weren't being challenged. For the most part, those students scored completely mediocre grades on the test. I guess they'll have to stick to my pace now. It's just so interesting. I'm learning so much--about teaching, about teenagers, about behavior. Fascinating stuff.
One thing I don't like: grading tests. It blows. It seems like I spent all of yesterday after class grading those damn tests, and I'm only halfway through. Guess what I'll be doing during football today?
Anyways, I hope everyone is well as they read this. If you're in the Windy City, I cannot wait to see you. It's only four weeks away! It's a great time to be in Chicago. I'm excited about the Cubs, the Bears, and the Bulls. It's difficult being a Chicago sports fan in New York City; I have very few outlets for my fanaticism. I really can't wait to be back home.
I'll leave you with a link to a blog written by, of all people, Paul Reiser. I include it only because I had the same idea almost verbatim a few weeks ago, and I thought it was funny that Mr. Reiser captured my sentiment so perfectly and humorously. Although it's getting to the point where it's not really funny any more.
And here's a clip of the lovely ladies at Saturday Night Live, in case you missed them last night:
It's frustrating. I think I'm generally enthusiastic when I'm in front of the class, but I can tell when people are tuning me out. It's difficult policing 30 kids and trying to get all of them into it. I'm constantly aware of moments in which I don't take enough of an authoritative stance or I lose a teachable opportunity. I teach a lesson and afterward know I could have done it better. I want to come up with teaching strategies and activities that allow students to take ownership of their learning, to learn by discovery, but it's hard because I have virtually no tools in my utility belt. Other teachers tell me I shouldn't worry about being interesting, that I should focus on simply getting them to buy into my routine. They're right in many ways--that part is far more important--but I think making my class more interesting would help in getting them to buy in.
With all that being said, I think it's fantastic. I genuinely enjoy coming to work every day. Sometimes my exuberance is irrepressible. I can tell when teachers are bogged down and weary, which I've been more than a few times already, and it's nice when I can add a burst of energy and optimism to the atmosphere. The individual classes are ridiculous. One day a class will drive you crazy while another is like a gift from up above, and the next day the roles are totally reversed. It teaches you to let go after each class, whether they've been good or bad. I knew from the get-go not to take any negativity home with me. Sometimes it's just a bad day. You have to release it, think about what you can do better, and come to the next day with a fresh perspective. It's actually not as hard as it seems.
My geometry students took their first test on Friday. The results so far have been fairly predictable. A lot of very poor grades, but several excellent grades as well. I know the students with whom I need to spend more time, and I know those who I need to keep challenged. The funny part is that I had a group of students who were complaining about the material because they had already taken a version of the course last year. They wanted to work ahead and go at their own pace because they weren't being challenged. For the most part, those students scored completely mediocre grades on the test. I guess they'll have to stick to my pace now. It's just so interesting. I'm learning so much--about teaching, about teenagers, about behavior. Fascinating stuff.
One thing I don't like: grading tests. It blows. It seems like I spent all of yesterday after class grading those damn tests, and I'm only halfway through. Guess what I'll be doing during football today?
Anyways, I hope everyone is well as they read this. If you're in the Windy City, I cannot wait to see you. It's only four weeks away! It's a great time to be in Chicago. I'm excited about the Cubs, the Bears, and the Bulls. It's difficult being a Chicago sports fan in New York City; I have very few outlets for my fanaticism. I really can't wait to be back home.
I'll leave you with a link to a blog written by, of all people, Paul Reiser. I include it only because I had the same idea almost verbatim a few weeks ago, and I thought it was funny that Mr. Reiser captured my sentiment so perfectly and humorously. Although it's getting to the point where it's not really funny any more.
And here's a clip of the lovely ladies at Saturday Night Live, in case you missed them last night:
Sunday, September 7, 2008
Longing for some "Common Sense"
Where have you gone, Thomas Paine?
With last week's Republican National Convention introducing even greater levels of acrimony, nonsense, and downright Orwellian doublespeak (see clip below) to the national scene, it has me thinking back to the times of our founding fathers and marveling at how much we've lost touch with their story. It became difficult to watch as the grand old elephants heaped criticism on Barack Obama for being intelligent and inspiring. It was repulsive to listen to Sarah Palin mock and belittle Mr. Obama's background as a community organizer, passing off not only his work but the work of all grass roots community leaders as insubstantial and fruitless.
Where would we be without grass roots community organizers willing to sacrifice their well-being for the sake of change? Where would we be without the intelligent and articulate likes of John Adams, Thomas Jefferson, and Benjamin Franklin? Today these three would be denegrated as East Coast Ivy League snobs. Nowadays we are more than content to be subject to the ridiculous whims of our own King George.
Back in 1776, Thomas Paine wrote a pamphlet that helped change the course of human history. His Common Sense inspired a burgeoning nation to wake up and recognize the opportunity that stood before them. Watching this presidential campaign devolve into a string of made-up stories and shallow insults, I wish there was a voice powerful enough to give us some Common Sense. Even if there was, I doubt you could hear it over the constant stream of noise that envelopes our day-to-day lives. And besides, nonsense sells better.
With last week's Republican National Convention introducing even greater levels of acrimony, nonsense, and downright Orwellian doublespeak (see clip below) to the national scene, it has me thinking back to the times of our founding fathers and marveling at how much we've lost touch with their story. It became difficult to watch as the grand old elephants heaped criticism on Barack Obama for being intelligent and inspiring. It was repulsive to listen to Sarah Palin mock and belittle Mr. Obama's background as a community organizer, passing off not only his work but the work of all grass roots community leaders as insubstantial and fruitless.
Where would we be without grass roots community organizers willing to sacrifice their well-being for the sake of change? Where would we be without the intelligent and articulate likes of John Adams, Thomas Jefferson, and Benjamin Franklin? Today these three would be denegrated as East Coast Ivy League snobs. Nowadays we are more than content to be subject to the ridiculous whims of our own King George.
Back in 1776, Thomas Paine wrote a pamphlet that helped change the course of human history. His Common Sense inspired a burgeoning nation to wake up and recognize the opportunity that stood before them. Watching this presidential campaign devolve into a string of made-up stories and shallow insults, I wish there was a voice powerful enough to give us some Common Sense. Even if there was, I doubt you could hear it over the constant stream of noise that envelopes our day-to-day lives. And besides, nonsense sells better.
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
Why I became a teacher
I've wanted to write this entry for a few months now, and I suppose there's no better time to finally let the words flow. My first day as a New York City teacher has come and gone. It's what I've been preparing for all summer--the introductory speech, the laying down of the rules, the first lesson. They told me that if I lost them today it would be hard to go back. That's a hefty amount of pressure, thinking back on it. No wonder so many teachers seemed nervous and a little on edge this morning as they milled about the office making their final preparations. As for me, I floated around smiling and saying hello to everyone and generally feeling a camaraderie with my fellow instructors. I slept fine, woke up early, and made it to school experiencing what I usually do when the new school year rolls around: sad that the summer is on its way out, but happy to be back in class.
That isn't to say I wasn't nervous. It is difficult to dismiss the impenetrable dread that you're going to fall flat on your face, but dealing with it isn't too bad. I had a long wait before my first class (I don't teach until 10 in the morning), and it struck me at about 9:45 that I was actually doing this. I became a teacher today. It wasn't at all what I imagined it to be. I start off my day teaching algebra to what is called a self-contained special education class. It's a small class of 10 students who took the course last year and failed to make any progress. This will test me as a teacher because I will have to try and step inside their shoes and figure out what each person needs to learn the material best. It will test my creativity and probably my patience. I'm glad I have this experience, especially in contrast to the other classes I teach.
The rest of my courses are in geometry, and, while there's a wide range of learning levels, the students were generally on the same page as me. It was in these classes that I had the chance to be myself a little more, to be a little more irreverent. I tried to establish a routine from the very first moment. I had them silently working on a questionnaire at the beginning of class, and that helped transition into my introduction and a brief lesson on basic geometric terms. I didn't make an elaborate speech. I didn't try to be Sidney Poitier in To Sir, With Love or anything. I tried to be direct and businesslike, but also welcoming and a little lighthearted. We'll see how it works out.
The students are great, and I really lucked out to have such a hard-working group. I also received early support from my principal and assistant principal, and I get the sense that they're looking out for me. Ever since I began teaching summer school, I've felt comfortable at the helm of a classroom. It's a strange experience because I recognize how inexperienced I am, and I'm constantly wondering what I'm missing as I teach a lesson. I know there are things going on amongst the students that go right over my head, and I'm trying to be as conscientious as possible. It's almost a sixth sense that you need to develop as a teacher, and it takes time. I try not to let this consciousness bother me while I go through my lesson. I try to commit to what I'm doing and hope my enthusiasm carries over to at least a few students. I'm looking forward to getting better at this.
And I think I will. The more I do it, the more I realize how committed I am to helping these students learn. I enjoy the urban setting. I enjoy the personalities that fill up my room in the Bronx. I have a sense of purpose that what I do gives my students a better chance to succeed, and my school goes a long way in reinforcing that purpose. I'm not teaching only because I like to do the work. I'm teaching because I get to work with these specific students. It's something I can't quite describe and something that I'm sure will evolve as the year goes on. Teaching in the Bronx is a unique endeavor. I'm committed.
That isn't to say I wasn't nervous. It is difficult to dismiss the impenetrable dread that you're going to fall flat on your face, but dealing with it isn't too bad. I had a long wait before my first class (I don't teach until 10 in the morning), and it struck me at about 9:45 that I was actually doing this. I became a teacher today. It wasn't at all what I imagined it to be. I start off my day teaching algebra to what is called a self-contained special education class. It's a small class of 10 students who took the course last year and failed to make any progress. This will test me as a teacher because I will have to try and step inside their shoes and figure out what each person needs to learn the material best. It will test my creativity and probably my patience. I'm glad I have this experience, especially in contrast to the other classes I teach.
The rest of my courses are in geometry, and, while there's a wide range of learning levels, the students were generally on the same page as me. It was in these classes that I had the chance to be myself a little more, to be a little more irreverent. I tried to establish a routine from the very first moment. I had them silently working on a questionnaire at the beginning of class, and that helped transition into my introduction and a brief lesson on basic geometric terms. I didn't make an elaborate speech. I didn't try to be Sidney Poitier in To Sir, With Love or anything. I tried to be direct and businesslike, but also welcoming and a little lighthearted. We'll see how it works out.
The students are great, and I really lucked out to have such a hard-working group. I also received early support from my principal and assistant principal, and I get the sense that they're looking out for me. Ever since I began teaching summer school, I've felt comfortable at the helm of a classroom. It's a strange experience because I recognize how inexperienced I am, and I'm constantly wondering what I'm missing as I teach a lesson. I know there are things going on amongst the students that go right over my head, and I'm trying to be as conscientious as possible. It's almost a sixth sense that you need to develop as a teacher, and it takes time. I try not to let this consciousness bother me while I go through my lesson. I try to commit to what I'm doing and hope my enthusiasm carries over to at least a few students. I'm looking forward to getting better at this.
And I think I will. The more I do it, the more I realize how committed I am to helping these students learn. I enjoy the urban setting. I enjoy the personalities that fill up my room in the Bronx. I have a sense of purpose that what I do gives my students a better chance to succeed, and my school goes a long way in reinforcing that purpose. I'm not teaching only because I like to do the work. I'm teaching because I get to work with these specific students. It's something I can't quite describe and something that I'm sure will evolve as the year goes on. Teaching in the Bronx is a unique endeavor. I'm committed.
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