Different English Styles (by Mrs. Styles)

This past Saturday was the Junior Prom.  As I am new to the high school this year, this was my first time chaperoning the prom.  Let me tell you, it was awesome!!   Please don’t interpret that to mean that I was reliving my high school experience and thinking it was my own prom (although the other teachers and I did have great time dancing to the songs from our high school days).  What I mean is that the prom was great because the kids were great.  They were all so well behaved, so excited to be there, and so much fun to spend time with.  

The other chaperone’s and I were commenting on our own proms, and how many of the kids when we were in school would have scoped out the entire place to find “privacy areas” (I’m assuming you get my drift here…do I need to explain further?)  but there is absolutely no way that happened the other night because no one ever left the dance floor.  Ever.  Also, a majority of the students after prom, rather than going to an “after prom party” went bowling.  Bowling!  How great is that?  These are the kids who you would assume would go to a party afterwards and we’d be hearing stories for weeks about it.  Not the case, though.  Many went bowling, some went to Denny’s, and others went back to a friends house to eat breakfast and watch movies. 

This just goes to show that we don’t give our students enough credit.  We have, by far, the best kids ever in this district.  G-Town Rocks!!

This past weekend, we sadly had a student pass away.  She was 16-years-old.  I’m not going into the details of her death, but only am writing this because when something horrible like this happens, it puts everything into perspective. 

I went to the viewing yesterday and hugged many of her friends who were crying, and I cried with them.  One girl in particular, who has already lost her father and now is suffering with the loss of her close friend, held onto me so tight that it made me realize that these are the important moments in teaching, not the lessons I plan on Shakespeare and symbolism, and how well prepared they are for state assessments.  I know that this girl probably won’t remember that I hugged her while she cried 20 years from now, but I will.  I will remember how much my heart went out to her and how badly I just wanted to reach back in her life and take away some of the pain and give her some happy memories.  I’ll remember what an impact she had on me, and how her vulnerability allowed me to again see the importance of our job as teachers, and forget about the headaches we get from the everyday struggles of the classroom.

The students at our school will forever be changed by this tragic event, and our sweet student will be greatly missed. 

The other day we were goofing around with Google Earth at the end of class and projecting it onto mySmart Board.  The kids were telling me what locations to put in, and we were looking at their homes as well as places like The Grand Canyon, Niagara Falls, etc.  One of the students asked me to put in my address, so I did.  Now, my house is not a large one at all, and my neighborhood, while family-oriented, is not considered elite or high-class.  It’s a modest, middle-class neighborhood, with hard-working families.  However, the view from Google Earth made my house look really big, as well as the other homes in the neighborhood.  The kids then began to assume that I must, “be loaded!”   (exact quote.  No lie.)  Do you know how hard I wanted to laugh at that statement?  I seriously just wanted to pull up my online banking account to the Smart Board and give everyone a really good laugh. 

 I’d like to just say, for the record, to any student who may be reading, Google Earth lied to you!  My house is not huge!  In fact, I really want to throw my name in for a Friday Jeans Donation Day sometime soon.  I could really use the money. 

I’m wondering if the following situation applies to anyone else, or is it just me.  This year, I have taken four family sick days to care for my sick kids, and two personal days to accommodate my oldest son.  He is in kindergarten in a neighboring school district than the one for which I work, and has had days off that I do not.  A few months ago I was without a voice and was barely audible.  I still came to work.  Today, I have some sort of awful throat condition and am in some serious pain when I try to speak.  Not so easy when that’s the main part of my job.  But, I’m still here.  Now, I’m not asking for some sort of pat on the back for coming into work when I should be at home resting and keeping my illness to myself, but I have to wonder why I find it so difficult to take a day off for me, and me only. 

Is it because I feel guilty not being at work and find it to be A PAIN IN THE BEHIND to plan for a sub (especially with 84 minute classes)?  Or is it because I have that teacher complex that only I and I alone could possibly teach the material the way I want it taught?  Or is it because I feel that I’ll probably have to take another four family sick days by the end of the year and then I’d be missing way too much work?  

The thought of calling in sick today crossed my mind while I was whimpering in the shower this morning, but then I thought, “no way!  I can’t call in sick!  Toughen up!” 

I must get this from my mother.  She’s the toughest one out there I know, and since I’m so much like her in every other way, this must be from her, too. 

I guess when my co-workers get sick, they can thank my mom.   

There are four words that get under my skin more than any other in education.  “I don’t get it.”   Not because I don’t want to help the students who truly don’t understand a concept, but because those four little nasty words are spewed from the mouths of students everyday, in every class, the moment I give instructions on what we’ll be doing in class. 

Example: 

Me:  ”Please take out a sheet of paper and copy down the quote from the board.” 

Students: “Wait, like, the whole quote?”

Me: “Yes, the whole quote.  Copy down the whole quote.”

Students: “I don’t have any paper.”

Me: “OK, after you find a piece of paper and copy down the whole quote, interpret the quote.  This means that you’ll be putting the quote into your own words and figuring out the deeper meaning of the quote.”

Students: “I don’t get it.”

Me:  “So, put the quote from the board into your own words.  Make it easier to understand.”

Students: “I don’t get it.  The quote from the board?  Or are we supposed to make up a quote?”

Me (with much less patience): “Yes, the quote from the board, which you were supposed to copy down on your paper.  You need to interpret it.”

Students:  “Oh, OK.” 

Students, after 1 minute of writing and swarming my desks with their papers: “Is this first sentence OK?  How do you spell important?  Am I doing it right so far?  I don’t get it.  What is this quote about?”

These “I don’t get it” words get to me, because I’ve been noticing more and more that students are having such difficulty thinking independently and they so badly want their hands held through every step of every lesson.  They do get it, I know they do. 

I just don’t get it, I guess. 

Did you ever encounter a family that had a terror of a child with them?  You know, that family you see at the mall where the child is screaming and running and even though the parents look worried and keep telling the child to stop, you still think, “I’ll never have a child like that.  I’ll never parent my child that way.”  Well, I had that experience the other day, except the children happened to be my 10th grade class. 

I had taken a personal day and left some very hefty work for the kids to complete while I was out.  The substitute was a former teacher, and I also had the special ed teacher in the room.  In my mind, the class should havewent very smoothly.  I came back the next day to a whole bunch of awfulness.  I was informed that the sub will never sub for me again because of the actions of sixteen 10th graders.  It was so embarrassing; I think even more embarrassing than if my own children would’ve acted badly for a babysitter.  I felt as if this was such a poor reflection on my own teaching and classroom management.  I felt disrespected by these students, that they would think it would be okay to act this way in my classroom while I was out.  I felt belittled by a project that was handed in by a group of young men (who chose to act more like boys than young men that day.  Young men is a compliment.) that had a drawing and expletive written on it.  Mostly though, I felt embarrassed for them that when they suffered the consequences of their actions (a day of in-school suspension for two of the boys who handed in the poster), they were angry with me.  How and when will these young men  learn to own up to their actions and accept responsibility?  They proceeded to act like their former 5-year-old selves as they whined and complained about the punishment.  I know I’m in for it from them for the rest of the year, but I can only hope that they are able to learn and grow from this. 

So, today is the day.  Any person from Western New York (or really, any northern state for that matter) can not honestly tell me that this thought has not crossed their mind at one point or another:  Has the sun died?  Is it really gone forever, because it sure feels like I haven’t seen it in a good 3 months.  It’s freezing and gray and snowy and blustery.  It’s slushy and icy and slippery.  It’s winter, and although I embrace winter and all of it’s freezing attributes, today is the day when I actually wonder if the sun has enough power to eventually thaw this city out.  Normally, when it’s a pretty winter day (as it is today) and I have no immediate need to go outside (as I don’t today) I love to look out my window and feel all nice and warm and cozy while standing on the heating vent.  Normally, I love sitting infront of the fireplace watching a movie.  Normally, I love going sledding.  Normally, I think that spring will be here soon and the birds will be chirping and the windows will be open and all that good stuff.  But not today.  Today is just too darn cold and spring seems so far away.  And I really think the sun has packed up and abandoned New York for good.  Maybe the taxes were too high. 

As I am sitting here, I am wearing (no lie) a black Power Rangers mask because my 3-year-old wants me to.  My 5-year-old is trying so hard to read a book on his own and is painstakingly sounding out each word as he reads.  I just corrected thirty short stories written by freshmen and was blown away by many of them; I couldn’t help commenting, “I’m so proud of you!” on many of the rubrics that will be handed back to them on Monday.  And so I am thankful.  I am thankful not only for my own children, but for the kids at school whom I get to watch grow.  I experience the same pride with those kids that I experience with my own kids at home.  Aside from having better hair and a whole lot more money, I guess I really have everything for which I need to be thankful this year.  Happy Thanksgiving!

I need some help teachers…  I currently have a 10th grade class that has varied abilities.  It is a blended class, with about 1/3 of the students classified, most with reading and writing goals.  There are also five students who were in Honors English last year, but chose not to take it this year, and then the rest of the class who seem to hold their own and put forth great effort. My question is this:  has anyone ever taught 2 separate novels in the same class?  The five students that were in honors last year, are beginning to complain about the simplicity in the class.  I’d like to challenge them, but not overwhelm the classified students or the other students who might get lost with a more difficult novel.  The special ed teacher and I were tossing the idea around of teaching 2 separate novels.  Any suggestions or feedback?  Thanks for your help!

It’s official.  I’ve officially lost my mind.  I’ve known it’s been coming, looming overhead like some awful monster about to attack.  I could feel it.  It happened yesterday during my 10th grade class.  All hell broke loose and my students saw the spawn of the devil in me as I chewed them out for their disrespectful behavior, spewing the words “rude” and “disrespectful” and “ashamed and embarassed of your actions.”  There was silence in the room, and then muttered apologizies, and a whole lot of staring at the sneakers.  And there should have been! They needed to hear it!  But, deep down I feel so so so bad because I truly and genuinely like all of these kids and want them to be successful, so giving them the “rude and disrespectful” lecture (NOT in a nice voice, let me say) is not a fun thing for me to do.  But when the bell rang, and I heard them push out into the hallway saying, “dude, you should’ve just seen Mrs. Styles!  She’s p#@*#@ off!”  I couldn’t help but laugh.