Different English Styles (by Mrs. Styles)

Last night was Class Night for our seniors.  Simply put, it’s an award ceremony for various seniors in all areas.  This is the time of year that both teachers and students are tired.  Really tired.  We’re running on empty, trying to encourage students to stick it out and work hard for a few more weeks.  We’re hot, we’re stressed, we’re really looking forward to summer, and it’s pretty likely that our rooms smell from having 20 sweaty kids packed together in small spaces.  We’re below the E line and the gas light has been on for about 20 miles now.  But last night was like fueling up with the good stuff, with the premium gas.  Last night we saw all these great students receive awards and be honored for their accomplishments.  It really captured the essence of why teacher’s teach.  It’s so easy to get caught up with the “ughs” of the classroom.  The rhetorical questions of “why can’t they just listen/behave/not text during class/try to hide i-Pods/do their work?”  The ughs of paperwork and meetings and misbehaving students.  The ughs “how many times do I need tell you not to speak like that?”  And then you see these kids all dressed up, getting awards, being successful, talking about going off to college, and you realize that yes, you absolutely love your job.  You absolutely love these kids.  You absolutely don’t understand why more people don’t choose education as a profession.  You will absolutely miss these kids next year, no matter how crazy they may have made you throughout the year. 

It’s exactly what we needed last night.  We’re all refueled and ready to kick the end of year’s butt. 

When I was in school I hated the bus.  Hated it.  In elementary school, it was fine but when I hit middle school it was the worst experience ever.  My ridiculously skinny body (really wish I could have some of that skinniness back, though) and awesome metal braces didn’t make me the coolest thing on the bus, but I still don’t think I deserved the mean 8th grade boys tormenting me about my flat chest while I sat next to my very well-endowed best friend.  Needless to say, when I reached high school I made it my mission to find a ride home everyday so I wouldn’t have to ride the big cheese. 

I tell you this ever so embarrassing story because my 5-year-old had a horrible experience on the bus yesterday…some things just don’t change.  He sat down next to a fourth grader and this boy, who didn’t want “baby” company, proceeded to call my son names and kick him.  When he wouldn’t budge (good for him!  He didn’t cave!)  this boy then gave Nate a series of body checks until Nate was pushed out of the seat and forced to find a new one.  Now, I’m not naive in thinking that my kids will never experience bullies.  In fact, I’m kind of nervous my younger son might actually give some kids a run for their money.  I’m not expecting that my kids should be sheltered from hardships, and I hope that they learn if they haven’t already, to stand up for themselves and not cave in to pushy kids.  But this incident really bothered me because Nate is five and this other boy is ten.  In my mind, a 10-year-old should know not to bully around a kid in kindergarten.  If this was a 1st grader I wouldn’t think twice about it.  I’d tell Nate to stand up to him, tell him to stop treating him that way and then forget about it.  But a ten-year-old?  Shouldn’t they know better?  I sure hope I’m right in assuming that at ten, kids know right from wrong.  If not, we’re doing a horrible job as parents, teachers, and role models, and we need to step it up a bit.   

I sometimes wonder (not often, as I am perfectly happy with my life as it is now and wouldn’t want it any other way) what my life would be like if I would’ve stayed in my original major and not made the switch to education.  I originally began college with hopes of becoming some sort of writer.  Maybe working for a magazine or newspaper in a big city, writing some major stories and living a fast-paced life with a cup of coffee always in my hand (or a martini.  Either one.  I guess I watched too much Sex in the City back then.)  But when I moved away my freshmen year of college, my sister had just had a baby and I missed her terribly.  I wanted to come home and be a major part of my niece’s life, not just the every-now-and-then aunt.  Then I realized that the “big city” type of life probably wouldn’t suit me, as I am a Buffalo girl at heart, and always will be.  I love this city, the people, the way I know where every road will take you and how you can get anywhere in Western New York in about 30 minutes or less.  So, I transferred to Buff State (my parents were furious with me), met my would-be husband a year later, and there you have it.  Here I am.  We lived in six apartments until we settled into our house, and have been equal partners in each others life for almost ten years.  I love how my life has turned out, love our kids, love my job, love our house (or will, when we finish all the jobs on it that we’ve started) love that I’m close to family.  But still, I sometimes wonder what I would be doing if I never transferred.  Where would I be?  Would I have the newest cutting-edge technology always at my disposal?  Would I be rocking the newest style, rather than wearing the same jeans that I’ve been wearing for the past two years?  Would I go out on weekends and not blink at dropping a couple hundred dollars on a concert or sporting event?  Would I still have the same values?  I can tell you that I certainly wouldn’t have today off, nor would I be getting ready to go to the playground or rent a movie for movie night tonight.  I wouldn’t be trying to teach anyone how to tie shoes or spell purple.  I definitely wouldn’t be going to clean out my car that has a bag of pretzels spilled in the back seat.  I wouldn’t be correcting research papers or watching back video clips from my freshmen classes acting out their own version of Romeo and Juliet.  (Ghetto style Romeo and Juliet is pretty damn funny, let me tell you.) 

 There was a reason that my parents thought I went insane ten years ago and transferred home.  And it’s so clear what that reason was. 

I’ve decided that I should put in to teach an elective next year.  I’m thinking I’d call it Procrastination 100 (the intro course) or The Art of Procrastinating.  I’m just so successful in this area, that I think I might have everyone beat.  Take right now, for example.  I have a ridiculous amount of papers to correct and what am I doing?  I’m procrastinating.  I have requisition forms to fill out for next year.  I’m procrastinating.  I could certainly go make some copies if I felt energetic enough to go walk downstairs.  Nope.  I’m just sitting here, reflecting on my awful habit, and doing a great job of practicing it. 

The only problem with offering an elective called The Art of Procrastination or How to Be a Successful Procrastinator would be that many students might not know the meaning of procrastination and confuse it with something else…  I’m not willing to teach that class.

I’m going to reveal my inner most secrets to you, right here, right now.  The reason for this insanity, you ask?  Because sometimes I just don’t have it all pulled together like some people think.  Sometimes I want to go home, crawl into bed and watch 3 weeks worth of DVR’d Extreme Home Makeovers…and cry at all of them.  Sometimes I want to go shopping and spend money that I don’t have on really stylish clothes and shoes, and then not feel guilty at all about it afterwards and then buy a large-full-of-lots-of-fat-super-ridiculous-girly-type-Starbucks coffee.  But I don’t ever do that.  Because I have two kids and expecting a third, so I spend money on things like daycare, soccer, hockey, football, new sneakers, new carseats, Happy Meals, and Pizza Hut.  I watch Nick and Nick Jr and know the theme songs to iCarly, Drake and Josh, and SpongeBob.  And this week was a pretty bad week for some ugly reasons and certainly did not have it all pulled together.  So this is how I fake the fact that I look all pulled together:

1.  I buy all of my clothes from JC Penney and Target.  (And only from the sale rack.)

2.  I buy all of my shoes from JC Penney and Target.  (And sometimes Payless if they have a BOGO sale.)

3. My sister, sister-in-law, mother, and I all swap clothes after a few months so it’s like we all just went shopping. 

4. I haven’t been to Starbucks in about 2 years but I do brew a mean cup of coffee in the morning. ($4.00 for a “vente” coffee could buy 2 gallons of milk.)

5. When I wake up in the morning I sit on the couch and stare at the wall for 10 minutes.  I have no idea what I think about, I just stare.  It helps clear my head for the day.

6. I fall asleep on the couch with an old knitted blanket on me every night.  Seriously, I’m like an old lady.  But very well rested.

7. I make sure to get home at least 10 minutes before Nate gets off the bus so I can clean up the house (Keith kind of drops the ball on that one every morning) and pee in peace before “Mommy” time starts.

8.  I focus on students and students only during the school day so my brain doesn’t explode from thinking about too many things at once. 

9.  I focus on my family and family only once I’m home from work so my brain doesn’t explode from thinking about too many things at once. 

10. I read People Magazine.  I know, I know, I’m an English teacher.  I should be reading classic literature, but I can’t help it.  I love People Magazine. 

 …So there you have it.  I have these little secrets to my sanity that make it seem like I have got things all under control.  But in all honesty, sometimes I just don’t.  Please forgive me for those days.  Especially this past week.

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.