Nobody ever told me that adulthood-- proper adulthood, with an actual job and such, as opposed to that fake adulthood you get in college-- would mostly consist of a thousand little things that need to be dealt with, rather than one or two big end-of-the-world type things you get accustomed to thinking about as a kid.
* * * * *
It's Thursday of the first week. There's a new boy in my 4/5 period class-- which isn't unusual at all for the first week, and wouldn't be unusual in the third or fourth week either; this school is notoriously bad at scheduling kids the first month, and classes are a chaotic mess of kids moving in and out.
But this kid immediately makes it clear to me that he's got issues with impulse control. He's sweet. He's polite. He LOVES being called to read out loud. He won't sit down. He wants to walk around to look at the posters I have on the wall, the diffuser on the back desk, his friend across the room. Every thought that enters his head must be shared with the class, regardless of how relevant it is or not. Regardless of whether or not I am lecturing, or if it's quiet reading time, or if it's independent work time or not. He can't stop moving.
Note to self: contact counseling. Does he have an IEP? If not, he may need one.
* * * * *
I'm piloting the ERWC3 class this year at my school. Normally, the Expository Reading and Writing Class is reserved for seniors, but this year our school is testing it out a new curriculum with juniors. For our participation, my colleague (who is the sweetest bestest nicest amazngest person in the world) and I get a nice little bonus at the end of the year, and the school gets an even nicer bonus.
Pros of being in the pilot include: not having to do the mandatory six district essays.
Cons include: having to follow a very specific set of unit plans lesson by lesson, and then filling out surveys after.
Pros: we got to go to a week long workshop to pick the units we wanted.
Cons: I finished one unit early, and took a week long break between the next so the kids could get signed onto Google Classroom, NoRedInk, take a few grammar diagnostic tests, get some vocabulary practice for words that were in the first unit that they didn't understand. . . and then I was out for a day at a workshop, so there was a sub and they read a short story instead of doing anything actually productive. . .
Oops.
Note to self: get back on track tomorrow. The juniors are reading an essay on rhetoric and answering questions. I created a supplemental vocabulary sheet wherein they need to find definitions of challenging words that are found in the essay because, frankly, this module-unit assumes they know some words already that they may actually not.
Related: nobody told me juniors were easy.
Kids I knew freshman year are back and they've grown in more ways than one. Small ones are taller. Acne has cleared or, tragically, gotten much much worse. Hair has been grown out, or cut, or dyed, but the faces are the same. The smiles, the groans, the laughs, the grumbling-- all of that is familiar. But maybe it's the fact that it's 1st period, or maybe it's because they're older, but they seem more mature now. They can be trusted to use the markers without making marker swords. They put things away. They know to have a pencil and paper ready, they know to check the board for the warm ups instead of waiting for me to tell them. The class is quiet, but I don't mind. It's a shocking change to have kids from my rowdiest class my first year of teaching to suddenly become my quietest, most productive class in my third.
* * * * *
It's still the first week of school. My schedule was changed a few days before. In the span of a few hours, I went from teaching three ERWC3 classes and having late schedule, to teaching one ERWC3 class and having a first period. An admin came by with signs to put on my door telling kids to go to other classes.
If you have 707 on your schedule for 5th, go to room 358!
If you have room 707 on your schedule for 6th, go to room blah blah blah!
If you have room 707 on your schedule for blah, go to blah!
I stand at the door to greet kids on their first day, and hordes of kids I knew from freshman year show up.
"Ms. Phronias!" shouts one boy who, while sweet, had given me sooo much grief. I'm surprised by how wide he's smiling. When I knew him, I was certain he hated my guts. "I'm in your class again!"
"No you're not!" I say, just as loud, mimicking his cheerful tone, pointing at the sign. He and his troupe of buddies read and, to my continued surprise, there are disappointed "awws" and grumbles.
By the end of the day, I've sent away dozens of familiar faces. Some of them I'm sad to see go, some of them I'm relieved. In any case, I'm happy: I wanted to start fresh this year, after all.
* * * * *
It's the second week, and the ELD classes are starting a unit from the book about sleep deprivation. We start with vocabulary sheets I made. We're supposed to be using the workbook, but when we went to the bookroom to checkout textbooks, we found that they had actually run out of the accompanying workbooks, and they need to order some from the district.
I didn't realize it, but my two ELD4 class sets are the only ones in the school this year; I'm the only ELD4/Sheltered English teacher.
Later, I receive a response from the counselors. It turns out that Loud Boy does have an IEP. I contact the IEP case manager for him and find out that the IEP is so new, the school is still technically waiting for the official docs from the middle school. The counselor has a hard copy, which he shares with me.
The boy's behavior has gotten progressively worse, not out of malice, but out of an inability to control himself. One day, he and another boy stick around after class for detention. My door is open, and an older man with a beard walks by. He stops and pokes his head in, and loud Bay recognizes him.
"What are you doing?" says the man.
"I'm in trouble."
The man looks at me. "He talking again? Moving around?"
"Yup," I say.
"Ahhh, NAME," says the man. "We gotta work on that! You be good, you hear?"
The man leaves. Loud Boy tells me that he's his counselor, not from the school, but from the state. He tells me the man's name, but I don't catch it in that special way wherein I hear it perfectly, but it falls out of my head as soon as I hear it.
When detention ends, the man returns. He, too, tells me his name, and again I completely miss it despite hearing it twice now. He tells me he's part of some program Loud Boy has been in since middle school. He tells me how he took Loud Boy and several other kids on day trips over the summer-- it sounds kind of like a big brother program. I forget the name of it immediately. He tells me that he will eventually have a hand in the IEP process-- at least, he had a hand in it at the middle school.
I intend to call Loud Boy's mom at the end of the day, but I forget.
The next day, Loud Boy tells me that the Man has already called his mom and told her about the detention.
* * * * *
It's the third week. ELD is finally reading the article they've been preparing for, the first article on sleep deprivation. There's a section about REM sleep that has some confused.
"Is it good to have dreams?" a girl asks me.
"Yes, very good," I say. "Have you ever seen your brother or sister when they sleep, and sometimes their eyes move? That means they are dreaming. When you are at that stage of sleep (I have to sprinkle in those vocab words. It's my job, after all) then that means you are at the most restful part of sleep."
She looks uncertain and gives her friend a look. I realize what she's angling at.
"Yes, even if the dream is not so good, it is still restful for your body."
She nods and smiles in a tired, 'oh you get it' way. "Yeah," she says. "I have been having bad dreams."
"Well," I say, "even if the dreams are bad, your body is getting rest. However, your mind might be fatigued, your mind might be becoming more tired. Do you remember the dreams?"
"It's about school," she says. Her friend nods and chimes in how the first girl has been feeling worried about school a lot.
"Well, that is not very good for your mind. Those dreams might be because of stress. Do you feel stressed?"
The girl gives an emphatic confirmation.
"You know," I say, "At school, we have a kind of counselor who can help with stress. Sometimes, even just talking to somebody can help lessen stress. Would you like to talk to her?"
The girl says yes, please. Her friend also would like to talk to the counselor. I let them know that I will email the counselor to tell them that they want to speak to her.
Note to self: contact the school psychologist.
* * * * *
I went to a workshop last week. It was for strategies for helping EL students. As an ELD teacher, I thought it would be something I'd be interested in-- I make it a point to go to as many professional development workshops as I can, especially if they're around helping my specific selection of students.
This one was being held at the district office, so I finally managed to turn in my direct deposit for while I was there. My family has been mocking me for some time about how I was so resistant to go to the DO and turn in a piece of paper, so I figured I'd bite the bullet and get it done. After two years of putting it off, I found it was ridiculously easy. They were right to make fun.
The workshop itself was fairly rudimentary, mostly consisting of reminding us to be aware of our student's capabilities and flags in the system. I realized with a jolt near the beginning that the majority of teachers there were mainstream content teachers, and they were from schools with significantly lower EL populations. Our school has over 90% EL students, and we're one of the few schools in the district that have classes to serve El1 and EL2 students -- students who have never spoken English in their lives and are learning the language for the first time, as opposed to students who have a handle on things, or who are long term ELs (kids who were born and raised in the US, but speak another language at home. Those kids tend to be amazingly capable speakers, but have abysmal writing and reading skills). Aside from the people running the show --who included the district coordinator for ELD teachers (who recognized me and said hi), the district coordinator for all the English teachers (who also recognized me ad said hi, despite the fact that I've interacted with her far less) and the lady who taught the ELD beginning-of-the-year new-educator seminar from when I first did ELD a few years ago (she did not recognize me, though she did still say hi)-- I was them most senior ELD teacher there.
I don't consider the time wasted; it's always good to get refreshers on the basics, and more importantly, while I was there I ran into a few people of interest:
1. Jeremy.
Jeremy was a dude who went to the same junior college I did way back ten years ago. Because we were sort of heading the same direction, we kept winding up in the same classes. We never really spoke, but we were friendly enough with eachother. He didn't know it, but he was one of the people I really, really admired. Then, we went to State University and wound up, again, in a lot of the same classes. This time, I was a little more social, and managed to be able to talk to him and a few others. He dropped out of the credential program a year into it (though his girlfriend Krista stayed on. She's super cool, and teaches middle school now.) I had figured he was one of the many folks who burned out, but apparently he went back a year after we'd all finished in order to better support Krista through it.
I asked him how long he'd been teaching, and he said, "Three weeks! :D"
2. Yanelli.
Yanelli was a sweet young lady who sat at the table next to mine. When she heard that I was an ELD4 teacher, she asked if it was okay to talk to me later. When later came around and we were given time to lesson plan, she came over, spilling with questions about teaching ELD and ELD4. She'd never taught any ELD class, and due to a sudden schedule change, she'd been thrust into teaching a few courses of ELD4 without any training. The workshop we were in was her first EL-related training at all -- something that was NOT supposed to happen, as every ELD grade gets it's own special training session at the beginning of the year. I answered her questions and gave her access to my Big Box of Stuff (an aptly named google drive of teaching materials I share with everyone. It's a disorganized, random mish-mash of stolen, borrowed, altered, untested, successful, incomplete, and experimental lessons, units, and resources) and we exchanged phone contacts. I told her that if she had any questions, she should call me, and I meant it.
It's strange how confident I am when I'm the one with seniority in the room.
* * * * *
Now it's the third week, and there are still kids moving in and out of class. One boy in my early ELD set still has his free lunch paper.
"Who do I give this to?" he says. "I don't know where to go."
I try to give him directions to the proper office, but halfway through realize that I'm not helping; he looks more confused than ever.
"I'll take care of it," I say.
Note to self: turn in the paper.
Loud boy has a good day. I want to reward that behavior, but it takes me a minute to figure out how.
I grab a notecard, scribble on a note that says, "you did great today, keep it up!" and stamp it.
"What's this?" he says.
"Save it for a treat," I say. "I'll explain later."
He's confused, but he stuffs it into his backpack.
Later, I draft a ticket redemption chart and concoct a more professional looking behavior ticket. Back at both of my previous placements, there was a school wide rewards system: grizzly Dollars at Gunderson and Patriot Bucks at Herman. Kids would earn them for good behavior, for exceptional citizenship, for going above and beyond. They could use them at the school store, or in their classes for whatever rewards the teacher cooked up.
I remember being surprised that this school didn't have them when I was first hired on. I guess now that I have tenure and everything is no longer constantly on fire, I'll be implementing them in my class.
Note to self: buy more snacks. Not just quantity, but a variety of kinds. Kids still like Nutella, right?
* * * * *
Several kids have been moved, but they're moving within my class load. My Later ELD set has 14 kids, and my earlier is now one student over the union contract limit at 26. The school has until Thursday to sort it out, or else I get an extra dollar a day.
My ERWC will get a new girl tomorrow who apparently failed last year and is making it up.
Dunno how that will go. We're already four weeks in.
* * * * *
I have an ongoing thing in my classes where, if you request a book for the class library, there is a nonzero chance that I will purchase it depending on a number of factors (price, availability, how many books you've already requested, etc). Some kids have taken me up over the years, usually they want the next book in a series they've already started, and I wind up getting the entire series so other kids will know WTF is going on when they read. This year, most of the requests are manga, which is fine by me. It still means my ELD kids are reading in English, and some of it is stuff I've been meaning to read like Death Note.
Usually the request cards -- just simple little cardstock note cards-- have a title and, if I'm lucky, an author. However, one girl in the ELD class came up with a full card of recommendations, complete with titles, authors, and commentary on which were deemed most important. She looked excited and nervous handing me the card, and I immediately bought most of the stuff on her list just because of how damn earnest she was. It helped that I recognized a lot of the titles.
I didn't even know Monster had a manga. Silly me thought it was an anime only.
Note to self: get more of that book cover laminate stuff.
Note to self: catalog the books again. There's a dozen new ones and more on the way; gotta start getting them listed in the library doc.
Note to self: institute more SSR time; morning kids like it, and afternoon kids need the chill out time.
* * * * *
I just called Loud Boy's mom with the help of a translator.
He came to class 20 minutes tardy-- saying that another teacher held him in. That sounds fake, but okay. Then he saw it was sustained silent reading time and went to the restroom . . . and came back about 15-20 minutes later. He stayed in class for about another 20 minutes, but grew progressively more disruptive. Finally, I sent him out; I asked him a few times to take off his headphones, which he did, but then he immediately put them back on. It got to the point where he had his music so loud that the rest of the class could hear it. I sent him outside and told him to wait. He said he would go to the bathroom. . . where he stayed for the rest of class. Out of a 95 minute class period, he was present for about 25 minutes. I bit the bullet and called Mom before I could forget again.
The translator, though disinterested sounding, was incredibly helpful. Mom was very kind and worried about her son. She had one of those small, sweet voices, and she was aghast at her boy's behavior. At one point, when the translator told her about how he was gone for a total of an hour, she gave a small gasp and an even smaller, "Una hora?"
Si, ma'am. Si.
Her son is usually super sweet. I privately suspect that whatever went on in the other class messed him up, and that sour, disagreeable mood carried over here. I told her to keep an eye out for the IEP meeting that was supposed to happen in the next few weeks, and told her I want her kid to succeed. If she had any concerns, she should be sure to let me know.
He really is a sweet kid.
* * * * *
Note to self: Give Susan the chicken eggs tomorrow.
Note to self: Give Tara eggs Thursday.
Note to self: give Phuong eggs next week.
Note To Self: Prep digital outline for P.1 essay
Note to self: Grade:
Vocabulary p. 1, 4/5
Velvet Ribbon p.2/3
Summaries p.4/5
Three Ways to persuade Google Qs - p.1
Three Ways to Persuade paper Qs -P.1
Input NoRedInk -1, 2/3, 4/5
Input Speaking practice p.4/5 (2/3 didn't do it)
Input Workbook Grades for August/ grade workbooks p.2/3, 4/5
Note to Self: Make treat ticket redemption poster
Note To Self: Print more treat tickets
Note to Self: Buy more cardstock paper