:: p-dog ::

To Do, Sunday 5/30/2004

- grade poetry portfolios (7th)
- finalize grades, enter on scantron (8th) to determine who's graduating (power, mwahahaha)
- revise/edit newspaper stories (7th)
- design a newspaper template in indesign (7th)
- organize the 4 6-inch piles of paper on my desk and deal with any bills or notices that have been too-long-buried
- call san jose writing project and tell them i don't want to take their classes all summer, probably (prerequisite: decide whether i want to take their classes all summer)
- research possibilities for a beach bonfire or other social for new TFA members in june, to report on at tuesday's planning meeting
- lesson plan for T,W,Th,F (7th/8th)
- outline plans for last week (movies--which?--for frequently absent/graduated 8th grade, something vaguely meaningful for 7th)
- schedule due dates for apex class papers/presentations
- find cheap flights to texas

Only 9 more teaching days...

:: Leslie H - 7:48 AM - ::

I dozed off for "a minute" last night at 8:45 and didn't wake up until 5:30 this morning, somewhat mealy-mouthed and with dry contacts still in my eyes. After verifying with Bryan that I had, in fact, been asleep before 9, I snuggled back down until 6:45. Thus, I report with triumph, I slept 10 hours last night, and still made it to school by 7:30.

:: Leslie H - 3:45 PM - ::

It is 4th period, and I am not even in the right state to be teaching class.

So my Texas visit is winding to a close, somewhat melancholy as always. The trip has been a lot of fun, but everyday has been colored by the truth that this is the last time Austin will be full of friends. Of course many people left last year, too, after graduation, but plenty remained to return to on visits. By the end of this month, though, most of the rest of my old friends will have moved away. I expect I'll still return to Austin as long as I'm with Bryan to visit his parents, but there will be fewer and fewer people to see. Transient college populations. I am grateful to have visited one more time.

Visiting Dallas, on the other hand, is becoming more fun. In addition to the consistent draw of my family, more old friends are there since college ended for most of them. There is little to continue drawing old college friends to Austin, but at least my high school friends are likely to pool in Dallas. I spent most of the day with my family, with a few hours to see friends. It whet my appetite for a longer stay in June. I'll probably go back to CA, have a semi-lousy day tomorrow, and immediately start looking for cheap plane fares in mid-June.

One major downside of my trip was that it completely made me feel as though school was out. Maybe it was the graduation barbeques, or everyone's assumptions that my teaching was done for the year ("no, just playing hookie"). I expect a rude shock when I return tomorrow and have to teach. Today feels like Sunday, the day before I return to work, and it's bizarre to be spending it in Spiderhouse.

12 more teaching days... Think of me on June 11.

:: Leslie H - 11:56 AM - ::

I'm taking my 8th graders to the computer lab today to research colleges--our end of the year project. I called the PE person in charge of the computer lab to get the key; she has always been super-helpful. And she gave me the friendly warning: the last time my 1st period group was in the computer lab (with another teacher--I'd never taken them), they printed porn and changed half the desktops to gang colors and/or signs. Joy.

Fortunately, it went smoothly. (They had very specific tasks.) Except for me having to repeat instructions upwards of 70 times. But that's standard.

:: Leslie H - 10:00 AM - ::

My excitement about the Texas visit this weekend is making this week pass veeerry sslooowly.

:: Leslie H - 7:57 AM - ::

Breaking all tradition of Saturday as a non-student day, I took four of my kids up to San Jose State for the TFA-sponsored Student Appreciation Day. Pizza, balloons, bouncy houses, and--most importantly--a scavenger hunt that took us all over campus. I had, well, I wouldn't really call it fun, but it was a nice time. I felt really good about giving them a good look at a college, especially the buildings and departments they were most interested in. I took all 8th graders, ones who are a little "at-risk" and I thought would get the most out of it. Full-out field trips are still a little daunting, but this inspired me to take some more minitrips on the weekends. Occasionally.

Here are the kids at the main entrance. Check out all the pictures here.

:: Leslie H - 7:31 PM - ::

I'm just a posting fiend today... Warning: this one's all about personal life. So what better place than the internet?

I feel I've done very little in the past few weeks (other than, you know, teach middle school) but reflect on this year. My first as a non-student. It's interesting just in the way you mark time. As a young student, a year seems interminable, and your grade level defines so much about your life. The difference between 4th and 5th grade! Monumental. In high school and college, whether you're a sophomore or junior matters less, but the the years as they pass have significant labels that very concretely mark the passage of time. Not so in this vast trackless wilderness of adulthood. No annual labels, no automatic peer group, and no final end. Other than, you know, death.

So Bryan and I are having all these issues. We've been living side-by-side through this year and having totally disparate experiences. His year has flown by in a blur of boredom. Unchallenged at work, cut off from a peer group and source of social life, off the college campus with its wealth of activities and resources. My year, on the other hand, has felt like approximately six. I'll skip the rehash; suffice to say, it's been the hardest, ever.

So we're dealing with our different years, and the pitfalls of living together. Now, living together is marvelous, but that's beside my current point. We love each other. There's fondness, and affection, and laughing, and good conversation, and occasional sparky romantic evenings. But we are so familiar, and so comfortable, that not only do we completely take each other for granted, we're running out of things to say to each other. Which I thought wasn't supposed to happen for a good couple of decades. We struggle to find interesting things to say about our days, but we basically already know everything. Mine was hard and sort of sucky. His was boring and sort of sucky. Then we eat dinner.

I'm not sure that there is a solution to this. Perhaps its inevitable. But in the midst of comfort and security, we grieve for all that interest and excitement and risk that marked our first year. We're talking about ways to recapture it. Periodic solo trips. More full individual lives. Threesomes. (Had to inject levity.)

Any insights are welcome. Do we just resign ourselves to this? Is this just what long-term relationships entail? I'm afraid I'm exaggerating it--making it sound more dire than it is. It's hardly a crisis (because that would be exciting). Just a predictable let-down.

:: Leslie H - 7:16 PM - ::

Stories of my school district:

My friend Johanna teaches 6th grade in the same general area I do. She arrives at school one recent morning to discover that some charming student has jammed staples in her lock, crippling her door. So she calls the custodian. He decides the best tactic would be to take his master key and, when it would not go into the lock, bang on it with a hammer until it fits.

Predictably, his key breaks off in the lock. So they call the one locksmith that contracts with the district and leave a message. Meanwhile, her students are congregating outside the door, ready for class.

The locksmith is MIA, so they call the one window guy for the district. About halfway through first period (which has presumably looked like Johanna and her students sitting outside the door), the window guy shows up, breaks the window, climbs in, and opens the door. Later in the day, he comes back to install a new window. The locksmith never shows up, so they just keep the door open all day and close it when Johanna leaves at night.

Next day, she shows up, door still jammed. No locksmith. And for some red-tape reason they cannot call one of the hundreds of other locksmiths in the city. So they call the window guy. He shows up, breaks the new window, climbs in, and opens the door. Later in the day, he comes to put in another new window.

Day 3. Still no locksmith. Mr. Window shows up to break the 3rd window and let 1st period into class. Later, he puts in a new window.

Here it stands. We'll see tomorrow whether the absent locksmith makes an appearance, or whether it's hello to window #4.

I'm in my classroom while a couple of girls catch up with their work and I talk with the entire rocker population of the school (approx 5 kids) about Marilyn Manson and Korn. Let the bodies hit the floor.

:: Leslie H - 2:57 PM - ::

Today is teacher appreciation day. I'm just saying, that's all.

(Let's predict how much appreciation I will get from my 13-15 year olds...)

I did get a pen from my principal. Woot.

:: Leslie H - 7:58 AM - ::

My parents are now the proud owners of 6 cows. In a sense, my step-sisters. I can now fulfill my dreams of being a Texas stereotype in Cali. Yeehaw!

* * *

I'm in my credential class (when else do I post?), half listening to a discussion of discussing LGBT issues in the classroom. What an issue. Everyone can get behind multicultural education, but it's quite a can of worms to talk about whether its okay to have two moms. Parents, administration, religion, community leaders, rampant stereotypes, high-profile politics, middle-school mentality--it's so political.

"Teaching Tolerance" is absolutely something I've failed to do this year. All of my ideals drowned in grading papers and other realities of teaching. We just watched a video of 2nd graders who were far more articulate than my 13-year-olds. I am terrified when I think of my 8th graders trying to survive high school. And I just read the statistic that Latinos (that Hispanic for you Texans) have a 28.7% high school dropout rate--the next highest is 13% among African-Americans.

So 1 in 3 of my students (probably more given my high "at-risk" population) is likely to drop out in the next 3 years. They struggle with complete sentences. *And they also* call homework "gay." So short-shrifting social justice seems a lesser sin than letting them graduate when they read like a 7-year-old.

BUT NEXT YEAR... This is the theme of my life right now. Next Year I'm saving the world.

:: Leslie H - 7:59 PM - ::

Oh yes, and I'm coming to Austin in two weeks. What? Yes.

:: Leslie H - 6:33 PM - ::

I cannot believe what a waste of time this class is (science again). Today, last class, we spend yet another totally unnecessary hour doing something that could have been explained in 30 seconds. The activity: making slides of types of sand. Cutting holes in strips of notecards and sticking sand in the hole with a piece of tape. For an hour of my life. I am frustrated and angry that I lose this time out of my evening. So I’m blogging in protest.

I can’t come up with an adjective for this week. It’s been just like every other week, except that it hasn’t. Students are engaged in two weeks of state standardized testing. Which means that we have 35 minute classes (cool), but the kids are wound up and crazy (not cool), and I have to test my first period juvie class (not cool), but usually an administrator is there to keep them tranquil (cool). I am embarrassed to need help proctoring a test, which should be the easiest task a teacher faces all year. I also think my administration underestimates the relationship I have with the kids. On the other hand, I sort of want them to think poorly of my ability to deal with the at-risk youth program, so maybe they won’t give me this class next year. Foist it off on some unsuspecting 1st year teacher instead.

My lesson planning for the shortened classes has been interesting. In reading, students are presenting group projects on the book Holes, which they’ve been working on for 2 weeks. I was mildly appalled on the first day of presentations. I knew the first group to present was totally unprepared, so I offered to stay in at lunch and let them finish. They declined, saying they were almost done, and the 15 minute finish-up-time at the start of class would be plenty. Time came for their presentation, and they had practically nothing. One student out of the four read aloud the paragraphs they had written. On their backboard, a hastily taped title sheet. That’s it.

Some of this must be attributed to me. But I really tried to hold them accountable. We had incremental deadlines, daily evaluations, yadda yadda yadda. It was my first project—I guess when we do new things I still just assume all students are going to be something like me.
(Update: presentations were concluded. Most of the presenting involved kids standing in front of their backboard and reading their paragraphs—again my fault for not modeling well—but some of the final products themselves were excellent.)

In my language arts classes, we’re writing and illustrating poetry. Really simple stuff—acrostics and cinquains and shape poetry. But it’s been amazing to see what my kids come up with. Also sort of astounding that this is the first time all year they’ve really gotten to be creative like this. We’ve done free writing and whatnot, but never poetry. The most telling were my 1st period’s “I Am” poems. They’re basically fill-in-the-blank autobiographical poems.
I am __________________
I wonder _________________
I see ___________________
I understand ________________
Etc.
Mostly I get “I am friendly and nice.” Most common words from 1st period were lazy, weak, and boring.

Okay, more later. Many things to say. Going to see Kill Bill 2.

:: Leslie H - 6:29 PM - ::

I'm here at curriculum training for the fourth day in a row and the third weekend. So naturally, I am engaged in anything BUT learning how to best utilize the grammar mini-lessons. Specifically, I'm catching up on my grim news of the week.

There has--rightly--been great outcry about abuse of Iraqi prisoners by American soldiers. Pictures were released for the first time on Wednesday's 60 Minutes II, and articles are proliferating. Here's the print version of that 60 minutes story, another CBS story, and today's NY Times editorial. What I don't get, though, is the surprise. Haven't we learned that war is ugly? In a situation in which two groups of people must kill each other, they will necessarily dehumanize the other side in order to make killing morally acceptable. And when the other side is dehumanized, abuses and cruelties are almost inevitable. Have we not seen this in every modern conflict? I'd list examples, but it seems so painfully obvious. Come on! War is hell! How short is our historical memory?

Maybe these events will do something to debunk this national myth of a quick, clean, easy operation, where our superior technology surgically removes the bad guys, leaving a nation of grateful citizens. Or maybe not. I should never underestimate the capacity of people to delude themselves.

:: Leslie H - 9:23 AM - ::