Search results matching tags 'classroom management' and 'mentoring'

but what I really want to do is act

Anonymous — Wed, 01 Jun 2011 11:25:58 GMT

Okay, no. Joking. What I really want to do is teach teachers.

I don’t want to get a PhD, however. I’d totally suck at writing a dissertation (I could never get an A in college on any paper that was longer than 12 pages — I lost control of the form at that length), and to put it bluntly, I would not like to have professors of education as my colleagues. Nor would I enjoy working at a school of education — most of our schools of education are subpar, including the ones I went to.

So I’m not sure how I’m going to teach teachers. I ended up not loving the kind of mentor job I had last year — it was pretty tough, with lots of soul-sucking paperwork.

Last week, however, I had the experience of mentoring the way I want to do it. There is a Spanish-speaking assistant teacher who helps out in lots of the different preK classes with kids who speak Spanish. She works in my room, and has always been very complimentary. (She says her grandson is going to be in my class, come *** or high water, once he turns four.) She also works in the room of a teacher who is new to preK, and has been struggling all year with classroom management. She pushed all year for the struggling teacher to come to my room to see how I do things, and last week, it finally got set up.

It was great. Struggling Teacher (ST) was enthusiastic about the visit, had a notebook in her hand, and eagerly took notes and asked questions. She arrived before the kids did, so we could talk about the room and the way it is set up. (She was amazed at how well the set-up works, given that my classroom is so tiny.) She was there when I opened the door, and she saw how lovely and peaceful our arrival time routine is. As I went through our morning, I was able to give her little asides that explained why I was doing certain things. She was happy, and I had fun. I wonder how I could make that into a job……

First day at work

Anonymous — Tue, 24 Aug 2010 00:36:03 GMT

I got back from a week-long trip to California after midnight on Saturday, and then slept in until 10:00 Sunday morning. This morning? 6:45. Ouch.

I left my husband to deal with the kids, their lunches, and getting them to their last camp of the summer, and went off to meet my new Americorps volunteer for breakfast. The place I had planned to take her was closed, but she was really nice about it, and we found another restaurant for several cups of coffee and some classic breakfast food.

This year, in addition to an assistant teacher (who will not, sniff, be Miss Slinger), all of the preK teachers in the district will have a volunteer from the Americorps/Reading Corps ranks. Mine just graduated from college, where she majored in English Lit, so I think I will call her Miss Dickens, after one of her favorite authors. Miss Dickens is very pretty, with big eyes and long lashes, and she likes action flicks as much as I do, so I think we will get along swimmingly.

We drove to school and as we entered, met a new first grade teacher whom I last saw ten years ago. She remembered me and gave me a huge hug, and I think was glad to have at least one person she knows to help her navigate a new, large school. Alas for my friend, however, she already *** off the school secretary. (Miss Dickens gave me a look — I had already told her that the school secretary is the most important person in the building.) I have to find a way to help my friend the first grade teacher get back in the secretary’s good graces.

Our staff meeting was pleasant, although I kept forgetting people’s names, even people I know and like. I suppose if you don’t think about someone for an entire summer, you can go blank on their name. Or maybe it’s just me. I did manage to introduce Miss Dickens and my old friend to lots of people, so I wasn’t a total failure. The new principal (I’m just going to call her the Princess, as the old principal was referred to as the Prince here on my blog) led us through a short but sweet meeting, and we had plenty of time to work in our sweltering classroom.

Miss Dickens and I got lots of stuff done, including making tons of nametags, and tomorrow while Miss Mellow and I are at a staff development training, she will be laminating and trimming and copying away. It feels like a real gift not to have to do everything myself.

flying with one engine burned out

Anonymous — Thu, 10 Dec 2009 18:22:05 GMT

I mentioned that I have been sick. The last few weeks have been difficult; I’ve been overcome with a bone-deep fatigue and had difficulty coping with….well, everything. I was so tired I couldn’t even think straight about how weird this was and how maybe I should call my doctor. The last straw was when I left the house to pick up my son at basketball practice last Thursday and couldn’t remember how to get to the gym, even though I have been there many times before. I called a friend for directions and almost started crying.

I called in sick the next day. (And Chutney sure did miss me.)

The good news is that there is an explanation. The new medication I have been taking daily to try to prevent migraines (this would be attempt #5, including acupuncture and chiropractic) has hit me with some serious side effects. I am now off the meds, and each day I am about 2% less exhausted. At this rate it will be a long time before this stuff is out of my system. But at least things are getting better.

Last week was particularly hard, I thought. Marvelous Mittens Day wiped me out like it never has in the past. We didn’t even get to the big make-a-mitten project that I always do on that day. By Hot Chocolate Day, the kids were starting to act up, and that worried me. This class is so angelic! Something really must be wrong for them to be even close to the bratty side. And what was wrong, you ask? Their teacher wasn’t behaving like herself.

That was the other thing that got me to go to the doctor. If the kids were being affected by my exhaustion and my lack of focus, then I really needed to find out what was wrong and pull myself together.

This week I mentioned to Miss Slinger, “Don’t you think things are getting better? I feel like things are falling back into place now that I have a little bit more energy.”

She said, “Actually, I never thought they were that bad. I knew you were really tired, but I thought things were going fine.”

I thought about that a minute and admitted, “I can be pretty *** myself.” Last week I wasn’t up to MY usual standard, and that really frustrated me. Maybe no one else noticed, but I did. I felt guilt about not doing my best for the children, and not doing my best as a teacher, and that was wearing me down, too.

Which brings my train of thought to its conclusion. Maybe one of the most important things you need to be a good teacher is to be self-reflective. I have been trying to mentor a few teachers lately who seem entirely incapable of looking at their teaching and wondering how they could learn something new, or how to improve. I find that way of thinking really foreign, and am at a loss as to how to proceed with them.

I can always see how I could have done something better. Maybe that is what has made me into a good teacher?

Lesson plans, again

Anonymous — Wed, 21 Oct 2009 23:31:16 GMT

Today in our leadership team meeting we discussed lesson plans again, and looked at the samples I copied — a lesson plan I wrote before we had the big discussion about what makes a good lesson plan, and one from after, with lots of detail, that references the standards.

We didn’t get much further, although it does appear that there are actually three kinds of lesson plans we’re talking about — and that teachers probably need all three. One is a schedule — what you will teach, when you will teach it, and in what order. The second is a detailed plan for each lesson that lists standards, objectives, your plan for differentiation, the questions you will ask, etc. The third is a curriculum plan for the whole year that shows what standards the kids need to learn and when you will teach each one over the course of a year.

We ran out of time, but it will be interesting to see where we end up going with this. Apparently some people at our school don’t even write lesson plans, and at a bare minimum, we need to make clear the expectation that everyone writes a daily lesson plan.

life as a mentor teacher, part two

Anonymous — Wed, 19 Nov 2008 22:09:05 GMT

So I never posted about my experience visiting first grade and teaching a math lesson to that class of wigglers….

Last Thursday, after having demonstrated an interactive read-aloud to my peers at a meeting before school, I left the meeting early and went to first grade, where I talked to the teacher about the lesson to be sure I understood what I was supposed to do. Next I rushed to my classroom, where I greeted my kids and got them sent off to art class. Then I had a few minutes to prepare for the math lesson.

I saw the assistant principal in the hall and grabbed her. “Could you take a look at this? Is this a lesson objective, or am I merely describing the activity?” We had talked about it at our mentors’ meeting the day before, and I wanted to be sure I was modeling my lesson objective correctly. The AP and I stared at the document on my computer screen and then figured out how to strengthen what I had written. I hit print and raced off to first grade.

It went well. I had already placed three lines of tape on the floor, having noticed that in a large circle, many of the wigglers were not facing their teacher and weren’t willing to make the effort to turn their heads and pay attention. The kids were pretty interested in the change, and sat down in three nice rows for me.

Next change: I passed out trays, paper, and pencils, so that they could work sitting right there in the meeting area. (On my previous visit I noticed that once the kids were at the tables, the screen was too far away for them to pay attention.) Trays are awesome. I have been using former airline meal trays for about 13 years. In preK they can be used as a writing surface, the way I used them in first grade, but they are also great as a workspace. (At our lego table, no one is allowed to touch anyone else’s tray — let alone take someone’s legos.)

Third change — I used a document camera. The teacher was accustomed to using an overhead projector, but in order to beam the image onto the screen, the o.p. had to be on a cart right in the middle of the meeting area, making it impossible for the kids to sit there. Doc cams are great, as they can be over on the side. I used it to share my lesson objectives (”by the end of the lesson, you will be able to…”), and then to model the activity.

K-5 is using Investigations this year, which I am not familiar with, as preK uses a different curriculum for math, but I hear good things from my fellow teachers (unlike the bad old days when we had Everyday Math, which Everyone Hated). In this lesson, I showed the children a shape for 5 seconds, and then hit the a/v mute button so the screen went blank, and asked them to draw the shape from memory. It was surprisingly challenging for them, and some really struggled (and a few really wiggled), but by and large, I had their attention, and we made it through together.

This week, I notice that the three lines are still on the floor, and the teacher is still using the document camera. So I smile a little to myself and hope that I was helpful.

first grade wigglers

Anonymous — Wed, 12 Nov 2008 00:43:40 GMT

Today while my kids were suffering through art (a topic for another post), I went to a first grade room in my role as a mentor teacher. I sat in on a math lesson, and couldn’t believe how restless and distracted the kids were. My four year olds sit in a circle and pay attention soooo much better than these six year olds!

The lesson went okay, but the teacher and I talked about it later and agreed that classroom management is the big issue. He said he was open to suggestions, and said that this feels like the first time that his classroom management skills aren’t doing the trick. I’ve been in his room before and I know that he is a good teacher — but this class! Wow!

I remember how they were last year in kindergarten — they were rolling around on the floor like puppies. All the kindergarten teachers would talk about how that group of kids seemed so self-centered, pampered, and immature. Now the first grade teachers are saying the same things.

So we talked about doing things in a more structured way, and using some of my organizational tricks to keep transitions at a minimum. And then I blurted out, “when I come back on Thursday, would you like me to teach the lesson, so you can watch?”

He said yes, of course. So now I have to get ready to teach a first grade math lesson to a group of wiggly worms, and make it useful to their teacher, as well. The good thing is that I had several of the kids in my class two years ago, and I know several more from all the time I spent in K last year as a mentor.

I’m kinda psyched. I like a good challenge.

But…perhaps this wasn’t the best week to give up caffeine?

life on the rollercoaster

Anonymous — Wed, 24 Sep 2008 19:09:21 GMT

Anyone reading this who is already a teacher (I know I have some fledgling teachers reading this blog, as well as some non-teachers) knows what teaching is like. Teachers are well-acquainted with the experiences of being bombarded by stimuli all day, of needing to think of 100 things at a time, and having to make decisions constantly.

So teachers, you can skip today’s post. You’ve been there, done that. This is for the non-teachers.

Today was a better day, because David was not there, and Max had had a long talk about his behavior with his parents, and was determined to do better. But it was still hard, so here, in list form, are just some of the things that I was juggling this morning:

I go to yet another meeting before school, this time for the mentoring leadership team’s weekly gathering. I have become the unofficial timekeeper, and as such, try to steer discussions back on track, to keep us moving through the agenda, and to help find conclusions and consensus on each item. I am praised for that by a colleague, which I really appreciate, although I admit to him, “I know that what this really means is that I’m bossy!”
Find kindergarten teacher whose room I’m supposed to visit during my prep, and ask her if I can bow out, even though I have just seen note from her asking me to read a story to class when I arrive as she has laryngitis. Bow and scrape and apologize for not coming. She is very nice about it, and sympathetic to my description of my room being “in freefall.” Listen to her scratchy voice. Feel guilty.
Return to the classroom to find both Nan and Miss Nelson, and a stranger (Miss Nelson’s mentor). Introduce myself to stranger, sitting at my desk, using my computer, so I cannot. Damn, can’t check email. Very little time to talk to them or get the room ready before I opening the door to the children.
I greet two more new students (that’s three this week, and four since last week), both girls, only one of whom speaks English. Beg the social worker to help, but she can’t, so her intern comes into the room to help children sign in and move their nametags.
Oops, nametags in the wrong place! Rush over and move them.
Note that sign-in line is not moving. See that Boy A is standing there with pencil hovering over sign-in book, frozen. Intern does not know what to do. Tell Boy A to make a mark, any mark, which he does, and usher him to move his nametag to “Who’s Here?”
Find pencil to get next child in line to sign in.
Take new girls to hall to find their cubbies. See that only one has a cubby.
Go into room to get new cubby sign, write new girl’s name on it, help her find cubby and tape her sign in place.
Note that we have two minutes to get to Gym. Turn off lights, say, “One, Two, Three, Freeze!” and explain to new girls how to freeze, cross arms, and look at me for directions. Tell class it’s time to go.
Turn on lights, line up children alphabetically, finding spaces for new girls.
Downstairs meet gym teacher in cafeteria, so warn him that there are new students, hand over class, and take one new girl to talk to Spanish speaking teacher who is helping out with breakfast. Ask, “could you ask her how to pronounce her name?”
Drop girl off in gym and go upstairs with Nan, who says she can help during prep.
Sit down at desk (yay, she’s gone!) and feel unfamiliar sense of calm descend. Am alone in room with Nan, my friend, who asks, “what can I do?” Give Nan many many things to do.
Hour passes in a flash. Cannot remember single thing that happens during prep.
Pick up class in gym. Find out that new girl says her name is Lola. We already have a Lola! Turns out her first name is name I was given, but family at home calls her Lola, her middle name. Make mental note to find Spanish speaking employee to call home to find out what we should call her at school.
Back in room, children finish journals, but wander aimlessly when done. Repeatedly give instructions to “find a book and sit down in your chair!” Note that I never labeled the books on the shelf now that they are all books about color. Wonder when I am going to find time to do that.
Start writing morning message. Get interrupted several times.
“Teacher, the bug is back!” Go over to terrarium to see one sowbug. Notice that he is not moving, and hope that he is alive but just resting. Try to write morning message. Give up halfway through.
Start cleanup time. Get frustrated with children visiting the sowbug instead of cleaning up and coming to sit down.
Boy B and Boy C, who were fighting over Superhero ABC earlier, are now fighting over Knuffle Bunny.
Horrible tearing sound as Knuffle Bunny gets torn in two.
Feel like crying or yelling. Do neither, but cannot help sounding mad. Boy C starts to wail. Send both boys into hall with Nan to discuss situation. Make note to self ask Spanish speaker to call Boy B’s mother to tell her what happened and ask for $2 to help cover cost. Make note to self to call Boy C’s mother and tell her same thing. Make note to self to order new copy of Knuffle Bunny from Scholastic book order. Which reminds me I haven’t sent in payment for September order, so make note to self to do that. Soon.
Start morning meeting without being ready.
Find out during playing of song about colors (from math curriculum) that boom box is dying. Instead of loving the song, everyone cringes with weird noises cd player makes. Make note to self to buy new boom box. Or try to play cd on computer. Remember time last year when I tried to do that and computer would not eject cd. Give up train of thought and move on to next thing.

Wahhhh!

Anonymous — Mon, 22 Sep 2008 19:14:22 GMT

Alas, it was another difficult morning.

Most of the hour I had before school started I was at a tech meeting in the computer lab, where we learned how to do a behavior screener on each child. I got all mine done — which was good — but only with lots of technical glitches, which was not so good. Everyone on the staff is frustrated, because the tech people at the district level instituted a lot of changes which have made using our computers an exercise in frustration, or even rage. I doubt that the district techies made the changes in order to make our lives harder, but that is the end result, and they have been ignoring our media specialist, who keeps going to them with all the problems we’re having.

One teacher stood up and made an impassioned plea to all of us to document our struggles in letter form, and turn them in for the media specialist to take to her meeting at the district level later this week. Hooray! So even though I had a ton to do back in my room, I sat down and wrote furiously.

I was finishing up my letter when an assistant teacher came in with his son, whose first day was today. I greeted them warmly, but I was thinking, “Ack! I’ve only got ten minutes before I have to open the door!” I asked them if they wouldn’t mind waiting in the hall, and then ran around the room setting out journals and pencils and crayons.

Arrival time went fine, although the new boy was confused and needed my help to figure out our routines, and one boy was back after a week’s absence and didn’t know about the journals. (He was out recovering from having his appendix removed. His sister brought him to me, showed me the bandage on his abdomen, and said, “nobody can punch him in the stomach,” and I said, “of course not,” but inside I was thinking, “how am I going to keep this kid safe?!”)

About five kids were wearing red for our celebration of Red Day, which was kind of disappointing. I think a lot of the parents are not reading my newsletter. Perhaps they don’t even open the folder!

We got to gym class no problem, and I had my appendicitis boy sit out so he wouldn’t get hurt, then went to find a translator to explain to him that he was NOT in trouble, we were just trying to keep him safe.

Most of my prep time I spent in the kindergarten room next door, in my role as a teacher mentor, because the K teacher had asked me to come observe the behavior in her room and help her figure out how to manage it better. I took diligent notes but while I was there her class was very well behaved and she did a terrific job leading them through calendar time and through a story.

When I picked up the class from gym Nan told me that it had gone really well and that everyone had been good. That did not last, unfortunately.

Back in the room I tried to get them excited about red day, and showed them all sorts of red things I own because red is my favorite color, but David said, “why are you being all silly?” and none of the class seemed all that engaged. Then when Nan was going to set up centers for me, David grabbed my stuff, ripped some papers, and then headed out the door at top speed, punching Max in the face on the way. So Nan was gone, and I was on my own, trying to explain the different color-themed centers, set them up, and help the children choose and put their clothespins in the right places on the pocket chart.

Max went to house corner, where he, Trixie, and another boy and girl all started fighting and tussling over baby dolls and dinner plates, and all ended up having to leave. Then Max chose blocks, but wouldn’t actually go there, and kept asking the little boy, “where do you want to go? Do you want to go to blocks with me?” The boy clearly didn’t want to be with Max anymore, but I couldn’t get Max to get started on the blocks so the boy could decide where to go next. Next thing I knew, Max and the boy and Trixie were all fighting over clothespins, and Max was pushing them and knocked down the centers pocket chart.

I put him in time out but he started screaming “I want to go to blocks!” and tried to hit, kick, and scratch me. He succeeded in drawing blood on my forearm.

The new boy kept switching centers without moving his clothespin, so I tried to help him, but he didn’t get it. He went over to the puzzle shelf and knocked over five puzzles, whether on purpose or by accident, I couldn’t tell. I spent a long time on the floor trying to put the puzzles back together, during which time Nan returned with a calm David (who started working on our red collage in art), and went out with a still-screaming Max. While she was in the hall he ripped down a poster, scratched her arm and drew blood, and kicked her in the shin so hard he broke the skin.

I could tell we wouldn’t have time for recess, so I started clean-up time, which made Max out in the hall scream louder than ever. Finally, everyone sat down, and Max returned calm (Nan is still a miracle worker), and I read Red Is Best, a great story about a little girl who feels the same way I do about the color red. But only part way through David suddenly punched the boy next to him and ran out of the room….

…And no, there wasn’t any time during the morning when I felt that things were going well.