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First Day 2022

Monday 15 August 2022

The Boy had a rough day of it: he’s been in a multi-age classroom for four years, meaning he’s been with the same group of people (mostly) for those four years. Fifth grade, though, doesn’t have a multi-age program, so he’s back out in the general population — and none too thrilled about it. All his closest friends from the last four years — all of them — ended up in different classes. A few of them got grouped together, but none of them are in E’s class. Which makes him less than thrilled about school after this first day.

We tried to help the Boy see things from a different perspective, but for the longest time, he just wasn’t interested. It was going to be a disastrous year, he was sure of it. There was no way it could get better — he was convinced. He might as well just switch to homeschool.

After some time in the pool and a lot of reassurance, he informed us on the way home that “all of Mama’s speeches” had made him a little more excited about tomorrow.

As for the Girl, she sat down in the car after volleyball practice, looked at me, and said, “Guess what we have in English class?” I raised my eyebrows in anticipation. “Articles of the week!”

I’ve been giving my students an article of the week for almost ten years now. It’s one of the most effective tools I use.

“Do you know what this is?” one of the Girl’s friends asked her.

“Yes,” she whispered back. “I’ve been grading them for years.” Which is dramatic sounding, and it probably got a laugh, but it’s not quite true. I’ve had her checking multiple choice questions, adding up the points, and using my scale to determine and write the grade on the paper, but that’s not really grading them.

“Same difference!” L playfully huffed when I pointed this out.

First Day 2014

Monday 6 January 2014

I’m always a little bit nervous about the first day back to school after a long-ish break, and today was no exception. I’ve had some absolutely splendid days after Christmas break and some absolute nightmares. Every year, as I go to bed the Sunday (most often) before we head back to school, I find myself wondering what kind of day tomorrow will be.

Yet I’m also always a bit excited: it’s like a first day of school, a new school year without some of the frustrating awkwardness of an actual first day. There are no schedule changes following schedule changes following yet more. Students aren’t moving into and out of your class. I know all well, and there are no worries about figuring who might be the most problematic student as quickly as possible in order to deal with potential issues proactively.

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Stylized illustration actually of students who are productive in 99% of the time

Today was amazing, in all classes.

I have a couple of classes with several students who have substantial behavior problems, and obviously I was most nervous about these classes, but they amazingly well. Sure, there was a little side talk, but by and large, most students were on task most of the time. People were talking to each other about their work, helping each other, sharing fascinating facts they’d learned in their research process.

Where did that come from? Don’t ask such questions — just enjoy the glow of feeling productive through the entire day.

I’ll have to hold on to that feeling when the third quarter blues begin and I — no we — find myself ourselves wishing it would just be late-May already…

Advice

Wednesday 5 September 2012

Though it seems to be largely ignored regarding our particular school, the web site ratemyteachers.com offers a method for evaluating teachers that includes a somewhat-disturbing metric: easiness. I’m not quite sure what they mean by this, for the other metrics seem fairly acceptable. One would hope teachers would be helpful, clear, and knowledgeable, and the notion of strictness might be initially off-putting for some teachers, but I take that to be an evaluation of whether the teacher is authoritarian, authoritative, or permissive. (I try to be the second of those three options.)

But easiness? Do we really want easy teachers? Do we really learn anything by doing easy work? Do athletes improve by completing easy workouts?

I would professionally take this as an insult if I were rated “Great” in the easiness category. I want to be challenging; I want to hear students complain, “Mr. S., this is hard.” Indeed, if I could write my own dream end-of-the-year evaluation, it would read, “This is an extremely hard class, but it’s worth the effort because I learned a lot.”

Every year I get a view of how close I’ve come to this goal when I have students write letters to the next year’s students. Some highlights from what my current students read last week from the class of 2012:

  • English one honors in the eighth grade with Mr. Scott is the hardest class I personally have taken so far. Mr. Scott will set expectations so high that you don’t feel like you can actually reach them but don’t worry to much, Mr. Scott will never leave you out high and dry.
  • By the end of this [first] class you will be scared out of your bananas!
  • With Mr. Scott as your teacher, I am positive that this year in this class will not be any easy one. What he has you do, is only for your benefit. By the end of the year, you will see much improvement in you English work. You will eventually thank him for all the hard assignments he had given you, well most likely you will.
  • This class will be about one of the hardest classes you have taken from kindergarten through seventh grade.  […] This year you will have to work your butt off and you can’t procrastinate if you want a decent grade.
  • This was by far the hardest class I completed all year. You will have homework every night so I hope you enjoyed last night. Don’t stress too much because Mr. Scott is a great teacher and he will prepare you for all the challenges that are yet to come.
  • Mr. Scott’s class is a fun yet serious class.
  • English I Honors, more technically known as Genre Analysis, is the most abhorred, despicable, positively terrifying course you will take yet, with gigantic papers over 1500 words (3+ pages, if you’re wondering), your thoughts of writing completely overturned, colossal, complicated tales, and most of all, a dash of creativity and thinking outside the box. Are you sure you’re ready?
  • This year will be a great one because you are on top of the middle school food chain and you will have at least one class that you will look forward too. Mr. Scott is a nice guy and is very funny.
  • You will learn many critical things in this class that you need to take with you after you leave Hughes.
  • At first the class seems intimidating, but when you get to the end of the year you feel like you have made a lot of progress.
  • You know that extremely nervous feeling you’re having right now? Yeah, you’ll get used to it in about three months… Maybe.
  • You’re not going to be able to just walk in and expect it to be an easy A, because it’ll probably be the hardest class you’ve ever taken. Although it may be demanding at times, if you pay attention, listen, and take my advice, you should do just fine.
  • I hope you are ready for one of the toughest classes of you life. You will be learning a lot of new things that are very difficult to understand. It will be very helpful but also very hard. […]  If you thought you had a hard class before, just wait until this year.
  • Mr. Scott’s class is a very difficult class with many challenges. Â He is a wonderful teacher. He always keeps you entertained while you are in class. Â I have learned so many things this year that were very challenging, but I learned that he will always help you if you need it.
  • You are about to enter the hardest class of your life. Good luck. Do you have a social life? Well, not anymore. Be prepared for late nights of studying, long reading assignments, and well, you might lose some of your hair, but don’t worry… throughout the year it won’t get any easier.
  • Mr. Scott is a very demanding and rigorous teacher that loves to watch his students suffer as they struggle to meet his requirements.
  • You are about to have one of the most challenging years of your life. It will be difficult but it will help you tremendously. […] Mr. Scott is the hardest teacher I have ever had, but he is also one of the best.
  • This class requires time and energy, more than you have I suppose. One way to avoid the 100 lashes earned from a late assignment is to stop procrastinating.
  • I hope you’re ready for a really great year. This year, you will learn tons of new things, from improved writing skills to reading plays. Prepare yourself for hard work, because this class is definitely not easy. Don’t expect to breeze through the year, but as long as you study, pay attention, and try your hardest, you should be fine. This year definitely won’t be easy, but it won’t be unmanageable. Mr. Scott isn’t that bad!
  • English 1 Honors is one of the hardest classes that I’ve taken in the years that I’ve been in school.
  • You may get mad at him for giving you so much work, but think first.  The assignments you have to do are sometimes nothing compared to how much he as to read and grade.  So multiple your work by fifty six and you will know how he feels.
  • If you’re nervous about taking this class you shouldn’t be. If you do your work and you complete all assignments then it should be fun!
  • Mr. Scotts English One class will be very challenging.
  • Welcome to the hardest class of your life! Be prepared to study like never before, work harder than you ever have, and be ready to learn a lot. All my life English has been a class I’ve never had to try in. But this year I have worked more for this class than all my other classes combined. Mr. Scott has taught me so many things and I feel ready for high school and at the end of this year, you will too.
  • This will potentially be one of the most difficult classes you will take this year.

It’s an affirmative moment to read things like that about you. Then again, there’s always the question of kissing up…

First Day 2012

Wednesday 22 August 2012

Who knows how many times I’ve done it. If I had to count, I probably could count how many “first days” at school I’ve experienced. With time on both sides of the desk, I suppose I’d have to be now nearing thirty first days.

But I still remember my first first day. Some degree of nervousness, some level of excitement, some small amount of disappointment mixed with a great deal of joy.

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I would like to think the Girl will remember her first first day. That she will remember how the night before her worries and fears melted in the morning to a smile and a paradoxically calm excitement.

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That she will remember her idea to have a desert picnic after dinner. That she will recall her planning and packing for the picnic.

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That she will linger over the memory of cuddling up to her mother, snuggling with her baby brother.

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And that she’ll think of that first day every time she sees an ice cream truck.

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First Day

Saturday 13 August 2011

It’s all smiles the first moments of the first day. There is optimism and perhaps hint of hope. New teachers. New year. A fresh start.

“I’ve heard she’s a little odd,” one says to another.

“But she’s really tough. That’s what Eric said,” another chimes in.

Next door, it’s the same story. The worries are identical. Will this be a cool teacher? Will I get along with her better than I did my last first period teacher?

“I’ve heard he’s really hard.”

“I’ve heard he’s really easy.”

Down the hall, the thoughts are the same. What will we read? What experiments will we do? Where will we go for field trips?

“I’ve heard he’s a jerk.”

“I’ve heard she’s really sweet.”

Everyone bumps around, unsure of themselves, unsure of their standing in the class, unsure of more things than they will care to admit. No one knows what to expect; no one knows whether to hope for the best or prepare for the worst.

“I’ve heard the cafeteria food is going to be better this year.”

“I’ve heard the dress code will change.”

Everything is in flux, sliding and slipping about like a ballerina on a well-greased floor. The only thing anyone has to go on is rumors and the Pop-Tart gobbled on the way to the bus stop.

And it’s all visible in the eyes, in the body language. The teacher clears her voice, signaling the beginning of the class, and everyone looks the same: shields up; defenses activated; look like a stone.

Who’s to blame them, for who is this person, this unknown, who will be an integral part of their lives for the next nine months? It’s a great poker game: no one knows if the teacher is the jackpot or three lemons. Everyone knows from experience that a great teacher can turn into a horrible ogre in a matter of days, and so everyone is afraid that it’s a front. The smile might not last; the attempts at jokes might not continue; the proposed classroom atmosphere of ease might be only an illusion.

It’s all rather like a blind date. The doorbell rings and there stands a bloke with a bouquet and a smile. The girl has her guard up and is analyzing every single thing the guy does: the jokes he cracks; the car he drives; the conversation he makes; the clothes he wears. Everything is a coded, hidden message, and the girl wants to know as soon as possible whether or not to text her friend who agreed to call her and speak in a loud, frantic voice about the impending emergency that she must, simply must, come and help with.

“I’m so sorry. I have to go. My friend’s cat is stuck in the dryer.”

If only it were that simple, for this date will last nine months. It’s a first date, a blind date, that’s the length of a pregnancy. And as with a pregnancy, there is nothing a friend can wildly scream over a cell phone, no emergency so great that it can end the date. And yet, the girl ponders, perhaps it won’t be so bad. After all, her cousin ended up marrying a guy she met on a blind date.

So the girl eases into the car and the students ease into the desks with a bit of worry and a touch of hope. This could all turn out well. The young man might be a perfect gentleman; the teacher might be a perfect instructor and mentor. Everyone decides for a moment, for a few days, to give the guy, to give the teacher, the benefit of the doubt.

Even those who are sure the whole school is involved in a vast conspiracy to trouble and torment them through their whole education entertain the thought that this year might be different. It’s sure to turn into disaster sooner or later, they think, but maybe it won’t be that bad. Maybe it won’t even be a disaster; maybe it will just be an inconvenience.

Everyone thinks, “Let’s wait and see.”

The teacher stands in front of the classroom, sees the sea of new faces, ponders the coming nine months, and thinks exactly the same thing.

“By the end of the first quarter, this girl might end up driving me nuts,” she thinks, looking at a face in the front row. “By the end of next week,” she shutters, “That guy in the back row might make me question my dedication to teaching.” The teacher looks, and explains, and waits. Waits for the first sign.

“We will have a test on every chapter,” she begins, and she sees the troublemaker in the back row yawn and prop his head on a casually balanced fist. “Oh, it’s already started,” she thinks. “I can’t make this any more interesting than this, and he doesn’t even have the decency to…”

In truth, it’s always like this. We are individual universes, carried around by clumsy bodies that often belie our doubts and fears. We assume, judge, and act on our initial prejudices, and then wonder why everyone else does the same. But sometimes, those judgments and quick characterizations set the scene for something more significant than a blind date. We are constantly moving into and out of each others’ universes, but we very rarely have any idea when we’ve bumped into someone who will have a major impact on our lives. But such moments do exist.

The first day of class is one. Students and teachers wake up on the first day of the new school year with the same thought: “I hope this year will be better than last year.” It doesn’t matter whether the previous year was a total disaster or an unqualified success. We always want it to be better. And we all hope, students and teachers alike, that it will be better.

Then the old routines return, and the students and teachers alike find themselves wondering, “What’s going on? How did it all go wrong?”

The dilemma is much more complicated than that, because we all have different ideas of what “wrong” means. Because we’re these universes — monads, as Spinoza called them — jostling around, unable ever to understand fully the physics of each other, we’re doomed to make mistakes that we don’t even know are mistakes. We offend where no offense was meant; we anger when we’re trying to amuse; we harm when we’re trying to help.

And nowhere is this more evident, more clear, than in the classroom.

What are we to do? We don’t have instruction manuals that we can read about each other. We don’t know what each others fears and dreams are. Sometimes we don’t know what words hurt, what actions destroy. Unless we tell each other.

That’s unrealistic. No one spills her guts walking to the car on a blind date. “Listen, I had a really bad relationship with a guy who always brought me roses. I associate roses with pain, so you might not want to bring them. They only call back bad memories.” No one says, “Listen, I am very insecure with my reading, and if you ask me to read something aloud, I will do anything and everything to avoid it–even if I have to cause a scene to get thrown out of class.” No one says, “I really want to help you guys, and sometimes I get really frustrated when people don’t seem to be paying attention. Then I make sarcastic remarks because I think it should be obvious.” No one says these things, but maybe they should.

So I will say these things to you. I am here to help you. I am on your side. I wake up in the morning with the hope of somehow making your life a little better. But I am human. I get frustrated; I get tired; I get irritable. I sometimes assume you should realize things that you might not necessarily realize. I occasionally assume that you didn’t this or that because you’re lazy. I catch myself, but sometimes the damage is done. Yet that doesn’t change the fact that I’m still on your side. I still am here for you.