Matching Tracksuits

beginning of school year

Second Day

Friday 9 August 2024

“Mr. S, you’re my favorite teacher so far.” We were lining up this morning to head out for related arts (or “essentials” as the new nomenclature dictates — people in education love to rename things to show supposed progress and improvement), and he said this out of the blue.

“You’ve only had one class with each of your teachers so far,” I laughed. “How could you possibly form an opinion that fast?”

“Well, your class was the only class we actually did something in yesterday,” he clarified.

I am not one to begin the first day of school with a long lecture explaining all the ins and outs of my classroom procedures. Sure, I have a specific way I want students to turn in papers, but I’ll explain that when they have their first papers to turn in. Certainly, I want them to know about my website, which I work hard to keep updated daily, but I’ll show them that when I’ve created my first update so they realize firsthand how useful the site can be. Definitely I want them to understand how we’re going to get into groups for collaboration, and I want them to know where each group is to sit, but we’ll go over that when we get in groups for the first time. So the first day, I always make sure we work. We do some writing, some reading, some chatting. We work in groups; we work in pairs; we work individually.

And the second day, we go over procedures.

Are you kidding? We have too much material to cover! Any procedures I’ve neglected will have to wait until that first time we need it!

First Day 2024

Thursday 8 August 2024

Last year’s first day — exactly one year ago — was a little strange. In here, I wrote it was a good day, but that was not entirely true. My two on-level classes were, in a word, hyper. Several students were immediately chatty, immediately disruptive, and there were several more students who fed into that. There was a bit of attitude at times, and while I tamped it all down quicky, it didn’t seem to bode well for the rest of the year.

I was right.

Last year’s eighth grade was tough. We’d heard they’d be tough from sixth-grade teachers; we’d heard they’d drive us to insanity from seventh-grade teachers; and we saw the difference immediately.

Most eighth-grade classes are pretty calm at first. Most eighth-grade students are reasonably relaxed those first days, trying not to push boundaries, trying to make a decent first impression. Those kids (rather, many of them) did not do this. And it was a harbinger of things to come.

“This year’s kids are better,” everyone said. We met them all today, and I would have to agree: a night-and-day difference.

One less stress.

Our kids started school with the usual excitement: the Girl is starting her senior year (how in the world is that possible?) while the Boy is starting seventh grade (how in the world is that possible?).

“Enjoy your last first day of school,” I said to her, though that’s not quite accurate. She’s planning on going into bio-engineering, and she’s already accepting/planning on getting a doctorate, so she has plenty more first days of school.

As for the Boy? A snippet of a conversation from a couple of weeks ago says it all: “You have to pay for college?! You have to pay to sit in school?!”

Turned Upside Down

Wednesday 7 August 2024

Our school district has a way of jostling teachers out of their comfort zones. Take this year, for example. We’ve known for a long time that we’ll have new standards for English. The logical way to let teachers transition to these new standards is to let them take their existing lesson plans and retool them as necessary to meet the new standards. True, they are, by and large, almost the same standards, but there are some new items on that list which will take some time to unpack and figure out how to teach. Perhaps letting us focus on that during the first year would be a good move.

We’re also getting new textbooks this year. This means that a lot of the stuff we’ve done in the past might not necessarily work with the new selections in the new textbook. A lot of it will, but not everything. The logical way to transition to this new textbook would be to give teachers a year or two to make the move over. After all, we’ll likely be using these books for six or eight years. We can take our time with transitioning and make sure we do a good job.

Or our district could manage these transitions as they actually chose to this year:

  • Provide new standards (actually the state did that, but…)
  • Provide a new text book
  • Provide a detailed unit pacing guide that we must follow to the letter
  • Provide a 35-question, 18-page mandatory test for the end of that unit, a test that has some questions that are not even covered in the unit
  • Demand all teachers make the transition immediately
  • And best of all, do all this the day before students return for their first day of the school year.

There are a lot of stressed teachers today. I had to talk an experienced teacher out of walking out and simply quitting today. This is her last year before retirement, and it’s not how she wanted to end her career. If she’d walked out, I wouldn’t have blamed her.

Meet the Teacher 2024

Monday 5 August 2024

“Last year’s kids were a real challenge,” the seventh-grade teachers all admitted. And to be fair, they warned us about them this time last year: “This is some group!” We hear that a lot, and we put it down to a typical exaggeration: they’re never as troublesome as last year’s teachers make them out to be.

But last year, they were right. One-hundred percent accurate. Last year’s group was exhausting.

“This year is going to be so much calmer for you guys!” all the seventh-grade teachers have been reassuring us during these first days back. Today we met a lot of them.

It’s hard to tell after such a short exchange, but we are, indeed hopeful.

Working on the Room and the Trail

Wednesday 24 July 2024

The Boy and I spent a little time working on my classroom. I head back in a week; the kids go back in two.

I was toying with the idea of changing things up in my room, but everything has been as it is for about the last six years and it works — so why change it?

School Year’s Eve

Monday 7 August 2023

Tomorrow, I begin my twenty-fifth year teaching, my sixteenth with Greenville County Schools. Am I ready? I’ve reviewed and signed all my IEPs and 504 plans. I’ve worked with other eighth-grade teachers to create this week’s lesson plans (and of course, the administration tweaked the lesson plan template, as they do every single year). I’ve spoken to teachers and administrators about which students I need to focus on early in order to form a good relationship so that when things sour, I have that good relationship to appeal to. I’ve spoken to my co-teacher in my inclusion class about what we’ll be doing and had a fruitful discussion about how we will work together. I’ve watched (almost) all my safety training videos (the same ones, year after year after year after year after year…). I’ve done everything I’m supposed to do, and I still don’t feel ready for tomorrow.

Part of that is because of what I’ve heard about this year’s group of kids. “They’re the toughest bunch we’ve ever had” was the common assessment of most seventh-grade teachers. I’m not looking forward to a year like that. Yet they always mature some over the summer, so I’m hopeful that will mitigate things a bit.

The Boy, though, feels even less prepared than I do. “I just want to go back to elementary school” has been his mantra. New starts always make him nervous, but K pointed out to him all the new things he’s thrived in this summer: a new scouting troop; summer camp with a different scouting troop; band camp with a group of strangers. Still, he’s reticent. I can understand that.

The Girl is just ready to go. She’s got so many AP classes this year that it’s troubling (seven out of her eight classes are AP: four the first semester, three the second semester), but she’s stubborn and resilient. She’ll make it.

K is not looking forward to the morning rush, but she and I will slip back into it.

Only the animals are calm about it…

First Week

Thursday 18 August 2022

The first week is about to enter the books — one week down, thirty-five to go. Some might view it that way, and some years it’s tempting for me: when in the first week of school students are already being disrespectful and incorrigible, it’s difficult not to think wistfully about the far-in-the-future summer. “It’s going to be a long year,” becomes the common thought.

But this year’s first week is not like that at all. The Terrences and Teresas haven’t appeared, haven’t even shown a glimmer of appearing.

Kids staying focused, working together effectively, showing each other respect…

I know it’s still the honeymoon period, but I can’t help but be hopeful about this year.

The Year So Far

Wednesday 4 September 2019

During homeroom, students had a simple task:

Go to the Hughes Website and select two teachers/administrators/counselors and send an email to them telling them how your year has been so far.

A few minutes after everyone had left for first period, I had a chance to check my email. I wasn’t really expecting anything other than the torrent of emails from parents, administrators, spammers, salespersons, teachers, students, and sundry interested parties about the usual things: Try this new product! My child is worried about your class! Here’s more paperwork for you! Instead, there was an email from a young lady in one of my classes with the subject, “Hello, Mr. Scott!”

During homeroom, I got to thinking about how my year had been going so far. I’ve one student whose behavior already worries me, and another student whose behavior today took a slight turn that was both unexpected and sadly anticipated. Other than that, no issues. Everyone has been respectful and engaged, perhaps because I try my best to model that respect and engagement. I like to think so, anyway.

I’m behind already in all my classes, but that’s just because I’ve slowed down to accomodate the needs of students. In past years, I’d be worrying about when I might make up the time; this year, I’m just thinking, “It’ll play out as student needs dictate.”

I’m lucky to have that kind of freedom. I have a district pacing guide that indicates where I should be, but it’s general enough that fudging here and there is not problematic. Plus, I work with administrators who would wholeheartedly support my decision to slow down as needed: student achievement and learning trumps all.

All in all, I’m pleased — very pleased — with how the year is turning out, all the more so because students seem to feel the same way. The letter?

[Sentence of embarrassing accolade.] Yes, your class is challenging, and yes, you hand out a lot of work. However, where would society be today if nobody worked? I enjoy your class–both of them. Your sense of humor makes me laugh everyday, and I learn something valuable and new in each of your classes. I am so excited to see where you take me, and I know that I will be prepared for high school and beyond. Thank you!

The initial accolades embarrass me a little, hence the redaction, but the rest of it confirms that everything I’ve been trying to do has, at least for one student, been working.

We should probably be sending these types of letters to students every week…

Random memory from the time machine:

First Day 2019

Tuesday 20 August 2019

The Girl started seventh grade today, the Boy began second grade. The Boy, in his multi-age classroom, is now an “older friend” as opposed to a “younger friend.” “I know my teachers,” he explained when I asked why he was so confident about going to second grade. There’s a lot to be said for the continuity of having the same teachers for a couple of years.

The Girl starts algebra this year, and she’s on the school volleyball team, and she makes her own breakfast and packs her own lunch. Our little girl is no more; she’s a young lady, looking more and more like her maternal grandmother every day.

I began, I believe, my 20th or 21st year of teaching. I could count it up, I suppose, but what’s the point? More or less is more or less enough. Taking all I’ve learned from teaching, I began all classes with very little worry, very little concern: I know what works for an opening day; I know what doesn’t work. I filled the day with the former and successfully avoided even a hint of the latter. The kids are sufficiently assured that I can be as tough as I need to be and adequately convinced that my class can even be — dare I say it — amusing and fun at times.