education and teaching

Chess and Reading

I had a thought during chess club today: many of the kids who come for our meetings are, for lack of a better word, nerds. That’s how others see so many of them. Social misfits, uncoordinated socially and physically. I think it’s fairly safe to say that a lot of the kids who come to play chess don’t always feel like they fit in. During PE class, one or two might suffer mini- (or not-so-mini-) anxiety attacks at the thought of participating in a physical activity. During social time, one or two might feel completely lost when around the “cool” kids. When tensions flair in a hallway, one or two might cast a quick glance at the kid who bullies others, wondering if they’ll be the new victim. One or two. Or more.

And it occurred to me as we finished up, and I heard one boy as he was leaving saying, “I love chess club,” that this might be one of the few times some of these kids feel absolutely in the right place with the right people. It might be the one time they feel like they fit.

In the evening, the Boy and I sat in the basement reading. He’s put off an assignment for far too long, and tonight we started making headway to the Friday deadline.

The first hurdle: where did you stop?

“I don’t know. I can’t remember.”

“Don’t you have a bookmark?” How can anyone keep track of reading without a bookmark?

“No.”

“Which chapter was the last you remember reading?”

“I don’t know. I can’t read Roman numerals.”

I take a quick glance: chapters are numbered with a bunch of confusing letters, so I teach him how to read Roman numerals.

Finally, we get everything squared, and he begins reading. His goal: ten chapters. His accomplishment: ten chapters.

End of the Quarter

How in the hell is it only the end of the first quarter? I feel like I’ve been pulled through a knot hole backward, as Papa would say, and we’ve got to do this three more times?!

And we had a faculty meeting today?

Action Shot

“Let me get an action shot!” I said. They stopped their conversation (itself, an action shot) and posed…

Open House

Tonight we had open house at our school, an opportunity for parents to come and go through their child’s schedule, meet the teachers, and see what their child’s daily reality is like.

The only parents who ever come are the parents of the students who work hard, give their best all the time, and show excellent citizenship and not the parents we really need to talk to more often.

It’s easy to make generalizations about that, but as I grow older and more experienced, I try to resist that temptation. There could be any number of reasons why the other parents didn’t show up, never show up.

A Good Day

Last year, it was a much more frequent occurrence: the day winds down, and I realize that by some miraculous aligning of the stars and kids’ hormones, impulses, and desires that every single class has been productive. I walk out of the building thinking I’d done something, thinking that perhaps everyone had learned something. At the very least, everyone engaged in some reading or writing.

Today was only the second day this year that I’ve felt that way…

More Notes

Cheating, I know…

Notes

The Response

This content has restricted access, please type the password below and get access.

Absent

If any of my colleagues ever suggested — or simply thought (then how would I know?) — that they were more productive a given day because I wasn’t there, I would feel such shame that it might be difficult to show my face again among those folks. I would reflect on my behavior, on what I’d always considered my contributions, and I would likely realize that I shouldn’t have simply been second-guessing myself; I would realize I’d had a completely false self-image.

Today, several students were absent, with most of them were suspended. The types that are likely to get suspended are the types that are likely to disrupt class, and so today, two classes that generally leave me wondering about my decision to stay in education were absolute pleasures. They were productive, polite, focused. They were unlike they’d been in a long time, if ever. (Is it really only September? Are we really only in the second half of the first quarter?! I feel so tired of it all that everything in me screams that it must be March.)

What if I tell these students that? How would that conversation go? I think we all know: they would be indifferent. At least one of the students admitted openly that he is disruptive because he knows it annoys other students, and he likes to annoy other students.

Several of them will be back tomorrow — will it be business as usual? No. I’ve seen what we can accomplish: if they are unwilling to cooperate, I will do what is necessary to protect the education of all the other students.

The Reality of Teaching

This content has restricted access, please type the password below and get access.

At Work

Sometimes

you just want the day to wash away in a blur and say nothing about it…

Fire

This year I’m trying a new starter: Write Into the Day. Basically, it’s a short writing exercise that is intended to get their minds in a literary space. I’ve tinkered with it, changed a few things, altered how we share, but so far, I’ve left the core idea alone: write a few sentences about a given prompt.

Last week, one of the prompts was this: “What lights that fire in you to give it your all?” When I was reading the responses this weekend, I found this one:

Mr Scott because he wants me to be my best in school so everytime he talks to me in the hallway about how much brain cells I have. After we finish talking in the hallway and when I go to my class I’m ready to learn so He always fires me up every time in class so Mr scott fires me and I give it all I have.

These kids kill me: it takes the smallest thing sometimes. This boy was telling me early in the year that he couldn’t do any better because he “only has two brain cells.”

“What are you talking about? You’ve got something like 120 billion brain cells, and they all work just fine as far as I can tell.”

The next day I saw him, I’d done some calculations, and I told him, “You know if all your brain cells were one second each, you’d have 3,800 years worth of seconds!”

“Really?!” He couldn’t believe it.

The smallest things…

Fight

The Boy told me about it the moment I walked into the house. “There was a fight at school today. A big fight.” Apparently, two boys got into it during lunch, and it happened right in front of the Boy.

“Were you scared?” I asked.

Yes!” he replied without hesitation or self-awareness of the fact that such a response would definitely mark him at some schools among some kids. One of those involved was someone E knows, and he was a little worried about what was happening to his friend and a little worried about what might happen him.

“I’m definitely in middle school now,” he concluded.

Tuesday School Thoughts

On the one hand, I’m responsible for teaching them to read and write better. That’s my bottom-line assignment at work. Traditionally, that’s all a teacher has ever been expected to do: teach the course material.

Yet some of my students fall under the rubric “at-risk” in one form or another. They can’t stay focused for more than five minutes (at best) or five seconds (literally, at worst). They can’t keep up with their materials until the next day (at best) or the next minute (at worst). They can’t accept “no” as an answer, and they take everything personally and turn things into battles that have no business being fights to begin with. They come in without materials — no pencil, no paper, no nothing.

These are the kids whose behavior, quite honestly, disrupts the learning of anyone and everyone else in the room. They are black holes for attention: their every second is a new event horizon to resist. Interactions with them can be quicksand, pulling everyone in and restricting movement completely. Working with them for five minutes can be utterly exhausting; working with them for a whole class period can have one questioning one’s sanity.

Yet what option do we have as teachers? No one else is teaching these kids (only a few — perhaps 7-10%, and not even that many who are so demanding and high-maintenance) these skills. At least it seems no one else is teaching them the skills. And someone has to teach these kids the basics of how to interact successfully with the world.

But it’s so exhausting…