Wait…I have to manage my classroom?

Something that I have struggled with since the moment I have stepped foot into a classroom is my classroom management style. I just had no idea how to go about it. Sure, I did not want students talking and sending snapchats to friends through my lessons, but I had no idea how to stop it. Well, no, that’s not entirely true. I was just not completely comfortable with it. I have a very laid back personality. Let me give you an idea of what it’s like to be in my classroom. Whatever you want to do is cool with me. Sure, work at your own pace. You want to work while listening to music? That’s completely fine. My motto is: As long as you’re getting your work done without bothering me or your classmates, do your thing. I learned quickly that I was teaching high school students, not college students. While my classroom management style may work for a few high school students, it will not work for the majority. Unfortunately, it took one wild ride for me to realize that.

It was my first semester of student teaching. I walked into my placement wide eyed and bushy tailed, full of ideas, and ready to hit the ground running. I walked into my collaborating teacher’s classroom about 10 minutes before the bell signaling the beginning of first period rang. There was a smile on my face, and optimism and excitement in my heart. I was ready to start the day. About 10 minutes into first period, a student spewed out and directed every curse word he knew at my collaborating teacher. The only thing she did to “deserve” this treatment was ask him to take his backpack off and remove his earphones. Needless to say, after witnessing my collaborating teacher get verbally annihilated by a thirteen year old in a matter of seconds, that previously mentioned smile, optimism, and excitement was nowhere to be found. Is this what kids are like? I mean, it was not necessarily something new to me. I did go to school K-12 in DeKalb County, which for those who don’t know is a pretty rough county. But, witnessing this behavior as a teacher instead of as a student shocked me. Knowing that that behavior can, and probably will, be directed at me was scary to me.

For some reason, I refused to face the facts. That student had to have just been a fluke, right? Students aren’t actually like that. They can’t be. Students know better than to disrespect teachers like that. After all, people come to school to learn. Yeah, that was just a weird, disrespectful, once in a school year, type of student. Nothing to worry about. Now the bell signaling the start of second period rang. Students began to flood into my classroom. This was my focus class, and now it was my time to put all of excitement and ideas into action. Let’s do this.

I took the lead for this class. I asked them to put away their phones and headphones. That request was met with a annoyed glance, and a return to their phones. I decided to push through and proceed with the activities. Unfortunately, students would not stop talking. Again, I am a very laid back person. So, I gently and calmly requested that they stop talking so that we could continue with the lesson. No one even batted an eye. Eventually, my CT decided to step in to get the class back on task. Again, my smile, excitement, and optimism had all disappeared. I never even thought about classroom management, to be honest. Now, it was all I could think about.

In the weeks to follow, I did all the research pertaining to classroom management that I could find. Any article, any blog, and any teacher that was willing to talk to me about it. I was determined to learn. Eventually, I did. It was trial and error, but I was able to grow a backbone as well as develop classroom management skills. I am by no means perfect at classroom management. I would not even say I am great. What I will say is that I am much more comfortable and effective than I was during my first semester. It is obvious that I am still learning, but it is also obvious how much I have learned.

Whirlwind

Spiraling down faster faster faster. I have to hang on! Please! Do not let me fall! OH MY GOSH! I can’t hang on!

As the days of student teaching come to an end, I find myself getting the same questions. So what’s next? Interviewed with anyone yet? What school are you going to next year? Got any offers? Where do you want to go next year? When is graduation? How is edTPA going? Took your GACE yet? I feel my head explode with anxiety. I am worried about what I am going to eat tonight. Not my future endeavors. I want to focus on tomorrow not months from now, but how can if the questions are coming my way every second. The stress and peer pressure were both getting to me. Is everyone feeling this way?

My main focus is my students. Yes, I am focused on graduation and what is next. But they need me to be focused on EOC prep and giving them the material to pass the class. I will focus on both helping my future and theirs. But I will not pressure myself to think about daunting future endeavors. I noticed when I took the time to focus on my future my students began to ask questions. Ms. Right how come you don’t talk to us anymore? Ms. Right you don’t love us? Ms. Right what happened to you? My students felt the neglect and I knew I was swirling down the whirlwind even faster because I was losing them. My heart began to break as I saw their concerned faces. I began to learn as a teacher, I must balance my own life and teaching. They are looking at my every move as their role model. They notice when my life is off kilter and they are concerned. But I  do not want them to watch me free fall into a whirlwind of self doubt. Every day teaches me more and more that self-care and self-love are so important in teaching. I must do things on my own time. I will follow my path. I will care for my students.  I will care for myself.

The Word That Shall Not Be Uttered

It was a Friday. Last Friday, to be exact, and my university professor was coming to observe me teach. Thankfully, he’s a nice guy, pretty laid back, so I wasn’t too worried about him.

That day, we were doing something different. Something I’d never done before: reading in groups. But my kids can handle reading in groups. This new format wasn’t what worried me, either.

There was a piece of the content that made my heart pick up a little.

We started reading Of Mice and Men on Thursday as a class, Gary Sinise’s perfectly nasal and twanging voice leading us along the Salinas River, but now as we dove into chapter 2, my students were responsible for the reading portion.

What’s the big deal? Why was I so worried?

Lennie’s mental disability? Sure, but you can’t force people to see others the way you do.

The “glove fulla Vaseline?” Not even a second thought. (Spoiler: it went over their heads big time).

No, what worried me wasn’t comments that’d make my blood boil or vulgar humor, but something that had far more potential for trouble than either of those things.

“Alright, guys,” I called for their attention. “So in a minute here, we’re going to break up into groups and read chapter 2. But before we get started, I need to address something.” I locked eyes with various students, ensuring their attention. “This is a fair warning for all of you, especially if you read. We all know this book has what we’ll call ‘adult language.’” That got snickers out of some and smiles out of others.  “Yeah, I know, we heard George call Lennie all sorts of versions of “bastard” yesterday.” More giggles. “But now: we’re going to read the ‘n’ word. You all know exactly what word I mean.”

Some nods, many cheeks break into grins, as if I had told them some piece of juicy, forbidden knowledge.

“We are not going to say this word. At all.”

That’s when the chaos busted out. Pockets of students set off in fits of laughter or chatter.

“But Ms. J!” One of my students, a young black man, called from the back row. “We say it all the time!”

Another student two seats ahead of him turned around, laughing, and offered him a low-five. “Yeah, Ms. J,” he put in. “We can say it.”

“I get it, guys.” I sighed and smiled, waiting for the disturbance to die down. “I know in today’s society, it’s a little different, but here’s a reminder: when did we say Of Mice and Men takes place?”

A moment of silence before a mumbled chorus of “during the Great Depression” rippled through the room.

“Yes, exactly, which took place: when?”

“In the 1930s,” a class regular piped up.

“Exactly. And in the 1930s, that term was only used in a mean, derogatory way, to put people down. That’s the only way that word is being used in this book. I don’t care who you are. I don’t want to hear this word. At. All. We’re not even going to go there. You can skip it. You can say ‘blank.’ You can say ‘bleep.’ You can say man. You can say African-American. You can say black man. Just don’t say that word. I don’t want any parents calling up the school and complaining that ‘Ms. J. made my kid say the “n” word!’ Understand?” I could see the reluctant acceptance in some of their faces, so I tacked on something I knew would convince them. I grinned in spite of myself, leaning forward as if telling them some great secret. “Also…I wanna get my teaching certification! I wanna graduate! Are we clear?”

A wave of nods, accented with a few grins, satisfied my worries, and I knew the issue was settled.

“Alrighty, with that fun stuff out of the way, let’s move these desks and get into our groups.”

Later, my professor would bring up this episode in our post-observation debrief. He commended me on my willingness and skill in handling an issue that some student teachers wouldn’t even attempt to tackle.

Personally, I didn’t understand how I could read Of Mice and Men, or any text containing that term, with my students and not address it.

Obviously, this word has sparked controversy in recent years. This word has been used to spread hate, to oppress, to discriminate, to beat down, to demean, to criticize, and attempt to dehumanize entire people groups. Recently, of course, in an awesome display of irony and resolution, some have tried to take the term back and turn a slur into a show of friendship and brotherhood, as some of my students have done.

I respect each and every one of my students and the personal culture and history they bring with them, but I wanted each and every one of them to remember and understand the context of what we were reading. I wanted to be sure they understood that my parameters were no slight against them, but a safeguard against issues caused by a past marred by violence and racism.

I teach English. It’s not my place to try to protect my students from the hard realities of the world but to use literature as a safe means of showing them the faces of the world. Some faces that still slink across the planet today.

Shying away from the harsh issues doesn’t make them any less harsh or any less real, but what better place to stare the world in the face than the safety of a learning environment? If my kids don’t face it with me, they’ll face it somewhere else, and at least in my room, I can rest in the assurance that I did my best to show them with patience, love, and (if possible) a healthy dash of humor.

In the end, I’ll say what I told my professor: I know my kids, and I trust them. If I treat them like people, rather than snotty little high schoolers, they’ll do the same to me. Having rapport with my students definitely helped in all of this because they knew that despite the lack of seriousness in my delivery, I expected their best behavior on the matter and nothing else.

And they came through, just like they often do.

Be Where Your Feet Are

My head bumps the top of ceiling as I get back into the safari jeep again. “Are you okay?” someone asks. I respond with a weak “Yes. The ceiling and I are just getting aquatinted.” After five hours of driving and nursing my throbbing head, the jeep parks for us to get some needed stretch time for our weary legs. As I get out, the dry heat burns my abnormally white skin that Crayola has not found a name for in the white pallet. I take two steps forward and hear a noise that will cause anyone’s heart to stop. I avoid looking down—ignorance is so bliss…most of the time. But I can’t avoid the unavoidable for long, so I look down. Sure enough, my pants just ripped. Not just a little bit, no. The entire back side of my right pant leg fell off. Maybe it was the head injury that the jeep ceiling gave me or my lack of water that day, but nothing was going to stop me from the night Safari.

Sammy lifts the roof of the jeep, something I wish he’d done five hours ago. We hop back in. Sammy and I talk about life—about his children, his dreams, his hope for his home, and sports. Well, Sammy talks about sports, I just listen. An hour into the conversation, I ask Sammy when we are going to begin the safari. Sammy looks at me as if I had lost my left pant leg. “Nzuri. We started an hour ago.” (Again, I blame the head injury).

Safari’s don’t have a straight route. There are no roads, directions, or set paths. To safari means to drive into untouched territory with no plan other than to be back before dark so you don’t get eaten by an animal. Sammy smiles and tells me “Hakuna Matata. Look up. Look out.”

People say you haven’t seen a sunset until you see an African one. While the myriad of colors painting the skyline will leave you without words, this amazing vista is what changes a person.  The remote, untouched land takes on new life with each fading ray of sun hitting the red earth and pale grasses. I’d even argue that pictures rob the beauty beneath the fertile ground.

As I watch the scenes unfold and listento the hum of Sammy’s jeep, my mind travels to my students back in the Rift Valley. I think about the orphans and my friends without homes. The beauty of the land juxtaposes the poverty in circumstances. But something feels different. This land feels full and energized. I forget about the lack.

Elephants paint the horizon. Giraffes come close. Lions stay far away. I watch as cheetahs are chased by baboons, and as the zebras race each other. I breathe in and close my eyes. No hand has touched the grasses or trees. Beauty and fullness do not come from the work of man, but from the land God has provided. These animals are as wild as they get which is not unlike my hair most mornings. They haven’t entered my home; I’ve entered their kingdom. Sammy looks at me. As if he can see my mind moving 150mph, he puts his hand on my shoulder and whispers, “be where your feet are.”

I catch myself most days, saying something along the lines of “when I graduate.” Before that, it was “when I start student teaching.” Before that, it was “when I get that one professor.”  When I find myself in this trap of wishing for a job or to be a seasoned teacher or to finally have my own classroom, my mind travels back to Africa—the place where people live for the moment in front of them because that’s all they have promised….”be where your feet are” resonates with me often.

In Africa, I would marvel at the sight of a lion who was doing nothing other than being a lion. It didn’t take effort or training or a certificate or validation from someone else for the lion to be a lion. While I have more training now and I am about to get that piece of paper that says I can legally teach, I’ve been a teacher since I was five and played “pretend teacher” with my friends after school. I’ve been a teacher since I read my first sentence in pre-k. I’ve been a teacher since I started babysitting. I’ve been a teacher since I was bullied in middle school. I’ve been a teacher long before I will ever receive that piece of paper that validates who I am already.

I consider myself to be someone in the business of building character. Reading a book teaches kids to think about something from a different perspective, fostering empathy. Writing an essay teaches kids to know theiraudience, instilling a sense of ownership and developing communication skills. Getting the kid that sleeps the entire class to wake up develops perseverance in a student and teacher.

While students need training to do certain things, they do not need validation from an authority figure to have the character of a writer, a doctor, an actor, or whatever it is that they want to be. While a student may not have the training needed to be a practicing doctor, he or she can still heal others. We as teachers, specifically English teachers, get to facilitate this development. We can teach that future doctor how to use words, how to heal deep wounds, and how stories can help others fight their own battles. Words are powerful, meaningful, impactful.

I write this for three different sets of people:

1. Students: Wherever you are at…whoever you are…don’t live for the “when.” Your opportunity now is far greater.
2. Teachers: We need to be investing in our students’ character and current state rather than ONLY pushing them to think about the future.
3. Pre-service teachers: Don’t wait to become a teacher. You are on a journey as a teacher NOW.

Don’t wish your feet were ten years into the future when you have been given this day. Don’t run on ground that isn’t there yet. When we live for all of the moments ahead, we forget to take complete advantage of the moment we are in. If you’re in the process of whatever, your moment is right now. Be where your feet are…

The Job Search

It is a Saturday morning, and Ms. Ham is less than thrilled to only have been able to sleep in an extra ten minutes than usual. Reluctantly, she drags herself out of bed and begins to prepare for the day. As she meticulously curls her hair, she recites all of her answers to herself in the mirror. She ensures not to sound “too rehearsed” but prepared. She recites her teaching philosophy, the most difficult day of student teaching, the best day of student teaching, what she does when her students don’t understand the material, and what her “perfect school” would look like.

As she gets ready, she decides to wear the same exact outfit as the last job fair. Not because she only has one professional outfit, but because Ms. Ham is outrageously superstitious. She one-hundred percent believed this one outfit would bring her the same luck as the last job fair.

Ms. Ham knew the job fair was only twenty minutes from her house, but she insisted on leaving with over an hour to get there. When she arrives at the job fair, she is surprised by the number of cars already in the parking lot and decides to go inside. When she walks in, she sees a line longer than the line for Goliath at Six Flags. Of course, due to looking startled and overwhelmed, a student aid greets her and tells her to sign in on a laptop. Once Ms. Ham signs in, she identifies the sign that says “Middle School and High School.” Now outrageously relieved, she realizes the line for Goliath was actually the Elementary School line. Ms. Ham follows all of the signs to the middle/high school section of the job fair only to realize she is the first person in line. As she stands at the glass door, it is as though she is looking at a fishbowl of schools and admin teams. Although she is the one looking in on them in the fishbowl of a cafeteria, she feels as though she is the one stuck in a fishbowl, alone.

It is now 8:45 AM and the job fair starts at 9:00 AM. Ms. Ham begins to see people follow the signs to the middle/high school portion of the job fair, but to her surprise, she does not see a single familiar face. Now, more nervous than before, she realizes that she is surrounded by a sea of veteran teachers looking for new jobs. As she stands eagerly at the front of the line, she begins to talk to herself. Her head is now racing. All she can think is “Oh my god…I am the youngest one here. How are these schools going to pick me over all of these teachers with years of experience?!” She quickly whips herself back in the zone because this is not the time to start second-guessing herself.

It’s now 8:50 AM and the superintendent opens the doors. Immediately, everyone rushes in. Ms. Ham acts quickly and finds the first high school table she can find, Evergreen High School. She walks right up to the first person she can find and confidently says, “Hello, my name is Cynthia Ham, and I currently attend Kennesaw State University! I am set to graduate in May with a Bachelor of Science in English Education!” The man shakes her hand and just stares. Ms. Ham quickly realizes he is not going to keep the conversation going and goes into fight or flight mode. As she begins to rattle off some of her past experiences and pass the man her resume, he simply smiles and eventually tells her there aren’t any openings in the English department.

She walks away feeling outrageously let down. He didn’t even try to ask her a single question about her teaching experience…why didn’t he even fake care? Ms. Ham quickly whips herself back in the zone because she has department heads to meet and could not let this one interaction ruin her mood. She talks to two more tables and experiences the same exact thing! At this point, Ms. Ham is fed up. As she walks through the job fair, all she keeps saying to herself is, “I know I’m supposed to be impressing them but aren’t they supposed to be impressing me too?!”

Finally, Ms. Ham finds the table she has been searching for all morning, Sunnyside High School. Just the sight of the table immediately lights Ms. Ham’s mood back up. She finds the principal she’d met at a previous job fair and excitedly says, “Good morning, Mr. Turkey, it’s so great to see you again!” And with that, Ms. Ham sparked a connection and turned the tides of her job fair experience.

A “Normal” Day v. an “Abi” Day

There’s something I’ve realized. I am not alive. Maybe I’m breathing, but I am not alive. I do not function like I should. But, somehow, I get by. Let’s take a moment to look at my day.

 

A “normal” human: Wakes up at 6 AM, already in a good mood.

Me: Hears alarm at 6 AM, at 6:30 AM. Then, at 7 AM, I open an eye, realize I’m dreadfully awake, and then jump out of bed to get ready in 20 minutes.

 

A “normal” human: Eats breakfast with plenty of time to go.

Me: Do I have time to get a doughnut at RaceTrac? No, no. Get to school.

A “normal” human: Ah, 2 PM. What a glorious time! I have so much of the day to do what I need!

Me:

A “normal” human: Has groceries and makes a delicious dinner. Has enough to take leftovers to school.

Me: Yeah, I can’t afford that.

A “normal” human: 10 PM, time for bed! Good night, world!

Me: It’s 11 PM. If I go to bed now, I’ll get 7 hours of sleep… It’s 1 AM. If I go to bed now, I’ll get 5 hours of sleep… It’s 4 AM. Should I just stay up? 4:15 AM: Dead to the world.

  

 

And this is why I am not a glorious morning bird. And this is why I am not even a night owl. I am a perpetually tired, teaching pigeon. I hope you all are normal.

 

 

 

 

 

“Empty your mind, be formless, shapeless — like water.”

 

Given that today was the one month anniversary of the shooting in Florida, I decided to do something different in my classroom.

I have a great group of sophomore kids who are very outspoken about current issues and politics. Instead of just talking about the events and having a moment of silence for the lives that were lost, we wanted to do something.

I gave my students a lesson on kindness.

I showed them a video of an experiment that was done with flowers. Every time someone was handed a flower their face would light up.

The goal for today was to make someone else’s face light up.

I printed about 24 random acts of kindness cards and asked my students to write something kind on the back. They were to randomly hand them out and ask the person to keep passing it on. We wanted to spread kindness.

Most students wrote encouraging words, quotes, and some even drew something.

During the break, students had the chance to go to the “hub” and sign a big banner that was to be sent to the Florida high school. My students thought that was the perfect time to spread kindness.

As I was leaving, one of my students came up to me with the biggest smile saying “it works, it really works.” She was referring to the fact that each time she handed someone her card their face lit up.  As I walked away, I saw the principle and he came up to me and pulled out the card that one of my students had handed him.

I guess I just wanted to write about the little things that we can do as a class, not just as a teacher. We can do many things together.

One student wrote a quote from Bruce Lee: Empty your mind, be formless, shapeless–like water. Flow through your haters–the last part he added.

Lights. Camera. Action!

Lights: The lights illuminate my stage, warming the cool room before 19 bodies fill the seats within. The audience is expecting a lot from me each and every day. They shine their spotlight in hopes of enlightenment, in hopes of entertainment, and in hopes of some sort of reward for doing nothing other than just showing up that day. These lights can be blinding. It is hard for me to see the whole picture: past the people screaming my name just to receive attention, and past the pile of expectations my crew members and audience members have set out for me.  Even when I step off the stage, all I can see are remnants of bright white dots that have stained my retina, forcing me to ignore any visual pleasures outside of the set.

Camera:  The cameras circle the stage, trying to catch every angle of the day’s scene. The camera men are watching to ensure that I don’t make any mistakes. The show must be flawless or else production will refuse to air it. I feel that if they catch one miss-step, they will boo me off the stage, and then you would find me in 10 years, living at my parents’ house for an indefinite amount of time, unsure of anything I thought I ever knew about myself. Ugh. The pressure of the cameras is almost unbearable.

Action: The crowd is always wanting action. It’s as if they think that my world revolves around them and their entertainment. I could be having the crappiest day of my life, but when those lights come on and all eyes are on me, I plaster that smile across my face and act! That is my job, right? To fake it until I make it? At least, that is MY motto. Half of the time, I feel like I hardly know my lines, but the show must go on!

Whether I am blinded by the light, I trip and fall on stage, or I know my lines or not, I have a job to do. Believe it or not, by the end of filming, I find myself in adoration of this dog and pony show. All the hoops I have to jump through are worth it when I see the audience leave the studio as better human beings because of whatever comedic episode I perform that day. Because of them, I live the hear those three little words. LIGHTS. CAMERA. ACTION!

Happy as a… Cow?

Lately, I’ve had an obsession with cows. It stems from my YCE placement – no joke, I student teach essentially on top of a cow pasture – I never realized how happy cows made me until I began student teaching. Every morning as I drive up to my school, I anxiously strain my neck to catch a glimpse of the cows that reside directly across the street from the building. Even seeing one cow plasters a smile on my face. I park my car and then remember all of the things I have to get done:

To Do:

• EdTPA
• Finish Grading Capstones.
• Post 9-week grades.
• Formal Observation lesson plan
• EdTPA
• Prepare lessons.
• Finalize Shakespeare Unit.
• Create Kahoot Review
• EdTPA
• Online classes
• Make Copies

Stress sets in. I have WAY TOO MUCH ON MY MIND to successfully teach Shakespeare today – I don’t know if I have it in me to explain the chaos and craziness that is Act I.i of Titus Andronicus – do I even understand it? As class begins, and we try to talk our way through I.i, I can see I’m losing my kids… fast. Ugh, but we have to get through Act II.i by today… that’s not going to happen. I quickly create a diagram – if you can call it that – on the board attempting to explain characters. I decided Act II.i can wait – we need to take time to pet the cows. I hand out markers, colored pencils, and butcher paper. “Create a character map for yourself in a way that makes sense to you! You can use mine as a reference – but I want YOU to understand the character map, so make it in a way YOU will understand it. Get creative!” Initially, I was somewhat disappointed we had to take a step backwards before moving forward, setting me off schedule. But as I walked from group-to-group, discussing their character maps, seeing them finally make sense of the characters, watching those “Aha!” moments light up faces, I realized this de-railed activity was my in-class cows. I was frustrated and stressed about all I had to do, falling behind and off schedule, but seeing them understand and make sense on their own made me so happy – so the delay was worth it.

Every afternoon, as I leave the school, I anxiously strain my neck, hoping to catch a glimpse of the cows. It’s not the actual cows that make me happy – it’s all the memories associated with seeing them daily. I never know how the lesson will go, how my students will behave, or how I’ll personally feel at the end of each day; however, I know the cows will always put a smile on my face. They will forever remind me of my YCE experience — and how even though I was stressed beyond belief, I was as happy as a cow throughout.

Students are People Too

“Well it would be nice if you could just excuse me from the test.”

I stared at him. I blinked.

“Yes, John*, that would be nice, but unfortunately I cannot excuse major assessments for students who choose not to come to school for two weeks.”

I love my students. I want what is best for them. I want them to succeed. I want them to want it, you know? But I cannot want any of these things more than they want them for themselves. This has been one realities of the classroom that I am beginning to navigate with a small amount of confidence.

How much help should I offer to those students who choose not to come to school and take their work seriously? Should I really take ten minutes away from other students who need my help so I explain an assignment to you that was due two weeks ago? Should I really be the one approaching you with the work you missed and need to make up? Should I really be flexible when it comes to due dates?

The answer, I thought, was no.

At the beginning of last semester, I had not considered how the impact of chronically absent students (popcorn attendance as my CT calls it) would have an effect on my teaching, and ultimately, my organization. On top of that, the popcorn attendance of students with IEPs who also get extended time.

This semester has been totally different from the last in that I have more students with accommodations. It has really made me think hard about how I will be flexible and supportive of the students in my own classroom. John is one such student I have had to work with. He recently came back to school after two and a half weeks of unexcused absence. I’ll be honest, I was not the nicest person when he came back. I assumed he was just another negligent senior, doing whatever he wants, which doesn’t include coming to school. I had forgotten that he has accommodations for a reason, and there is a legitimate reason for why he misses school, no matter what my co-teacher says about him just being lazy. I’ve realized in the past week that I had forgotten that John is a real person with issues, not just a warm body in a desk.

At this point, I’m actually happy to have my co-teacher there to advocate for her students and keep them on track. I see now how it can be almost impossible for a single teacher to keep up with thirty students in a class, times five. I’ve changed my approach with John by setting up small work goals throughout the period and saying “see you tomorrow!” when he leaves. By providing a structure for John he has been more receptive and at ease in class. Part of my teaching philosophy is to emphasize the importance of due dates and self-discipline inside and outside of the classroom. Working with John has made this belief less rigid in that not everyone is going to be capable of completing work at the same pace and I shouldn’t expect that of everyone. It’s an obvious statement, but coming to this realization in the classroom makes it more concrete.

So, John, I cannot excuse you from the test, but I will try to help you as best I can.

 

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