Finding Fun: End of Quarter Reflection Part 2

As a student I was always conscious that the day before a break or holiday was different than a normal school day-- filled with anticipation. Not much learning occurred on these days. It was an inverse relationship: the longer the upcoming break, the less productive the day of school. There was only a marginal effect leading up to a long weekend, but the day before winter break of the last day of school might as well have been holidays themselves. From the student perspective, these days are great. Relaxing, little to no actual work, because students know that the teacher knows that students are not in learning mode. Leading up to my first break as a teacher, I viewed that Friday as an easy day because I only had the student perspective to guide me. I would throw on a (somewhat) educational movie count the minutes until the start of my nine days of freedom. Not exactly the picture they show you in the TFA brochure, but that's life. I realized that for as much as I yearned for breaks as a student, a teacher blows that level of anticipation out of the water.

I came to school that day fully armed with a borrowed copy of "Planet Earth"-- a Discovery Channel series that has a bunch of different nature topics. All I had to do was make it through four forty-minute periods and my half-hour of intervention at the end of the day. However, I quickly learned that I hadn't mastered the "video day" routine (which is probably a good thing, honestly). I'm not sure why I thought   my students would want any part of watching "Planet Earth". Video day lesson #1: Make sure you pick a video that your students MIGHT actually enjoy. Even I was falling asleep after about five minutes. Almost nobody was paying attention, which leads me to my next video day lesson. Video day lesson #2: Don't allow talking during the video. This should have been a no-brainer; I have no idea why I thought it would be OK to allow my students to talk "as long as you are being quiet". My first period of  "video day" quickly turned into a madhouse, and I had to make quite a few adjustments on the fly (which isn't all that different from any normal day). The only thing that really bothered me was that I gave a few students an extra assignment for talking (after I had implemented my "no talking" expectation). Even before the period ended, I was disappointed that I had done that. The bottom line was the video was boring and I was foolish to expect perfect behavior.

The next three periods went much better. I went from Planet Earth to Mythbusters, which I knew my students (and I) would enjoy more. While I don't plan on having video day again until the day before winter break, I am glad I learned how to properly implement it. The last period of the day is always my intervention time, which is essentially study hall. Students have a few different choices-- they can work on homework from any class, they can read a book, or they can use a computer/iPad to work on Khan Academy and Study Island, which have online lessons and practice problems. Usually this period is pretty easy for me because students are used to the routine and, thus, behavior isn't much of a problem. I don't have to plan lessons for my intervention, so naturally I didn't have anything planned for this last thirty minutes before break.

In my first posts I described one of my toughest days of teaching. That day I completely lost control of a class-- during an observation by my ASU clinical instructor. I have come a long way since then. Nevertheless, there are still times when my inexperience is quite conspicuous. My last thirty minutes of the day before fall break, I lost control of a class once again. This time, however, the implication was completely different. This last period of the day is always tough for my students. 8th graders have the latest lunch and special-area period of the day, so they go to their four content courses first and go to their special area class last. For most of them, their special area class is P.E. or dance, so they come to my classroom sweaty, hyper, and ready to go home. This is on a normal day--now imagine what it is like on the day before break. Needless to say, I knew we weren't going to get anything done that day. My goal was keep them under control for thirty minutes. I lasted about five minutes. As predicted, they didn't have anything on their mind besides fun, but what made things even crazier was the amount of students that showed up in my room. I have about 18 students in my final period (much smaller than a normal class size), but that day our 8th graders (and teachers) were not too interested in following routine. After those five normal minutes to start the period, I started receiving a steady stream of additional students. For those of you who might find this strange, it's actually not that unusual at my school. Besides their four content periods (math, science, language arts, social studies), students have very flexible schedules in terms of choices for special area classes and intervention. Additionally, even when a student is assigned to a specific class, it is not uncommon for that student to show up to a different class. It seems like a crazy system, but for the most part every student shows up to every class such that everyone is accounted for, and the distribution of students is somewhat equal across classrooms. This day, however, I had what seemed like half of the 8th grade in my classroom. At first, it wasn't a huge deal.  A little noisy, but no one was working so it didn't really matter. Then, more and more students showed up-- not troublemakers, mind you, but my BEST students. It became an unstoppable force; they did what they wanted and I had no say in it. Interestingly, they were very adept at doing things that I would never allow during a real class, but that I would let slide at the time. They knew exactly where the line was and didn't cross it. A brief sampling of events: messing with the stuff on my desk (they definitely knew this would annoy me), taking a stack of sticky notes and posting them  everywhere around my room (I made them clean up later), covering all of my whiteboards with hearts and notes (see picture at top). Nobody got hurt, no damage was done. I was a little stressed at the time--definitely relieved when the day was over--but I realized that this was actually a milestone moment in my classroom. That my students felt comfortable enough to come to my classroom and be themselves, knowing that I would let it slide that day, is something that I am OK with. In the "teacher manual" this is probably a cardinal sin. We are constantly reminded of the need for consistent expectations and procedures--that we must be in control at all times. That I lost control must be a sign of weakness or inexperience. I might look back later and agree with that assessment. Perhaps that day was a glaring reminder of my inexperience. But looking at it now, during that time I was closer to my kids than I have ever been. The sharp distinction between teacher and student, adult and child, blurred for a moment. I think those moments are absolutely critical, not only to helping building relationships with students, but to preserving my sanity as a teacher. "Fun" is not a topic discussed much in education these days. I am not endorsing the view that "fun" should be the guiding principle of education (quite the contrary, actually, but I'll save that for another post), but I always try to remember that my students are kids, and an important part of being a kid is having fun. If my students can come to school and experience one or two moments of pure joy each day, I think it will have an enormous impact on their educational experience. The bottom line is that kids don't learn if they aren't invested in learning, and they don't learn from teachers they don't like. The same thing goes for teachers. I will never be an effective teacher if I can't have some fun when I am around my students.

So I end my reflection of my first quarter of teaching with a wonderful experience. It's amazing that "losing control" was the theme of two of my most memorable days--in two completely different contexts. As I return to my classroom next week, I am still driven by the same mission--to achieve transformational change in my classroom by preparing my students to be successful in high school. I also return with a greater understanding of my students as individual people, which further increases my motivation to improve as a teacher. But I also realize that I need to enjoy this journey. At the end of the year, if I had fun teaching and my students had fun learning, I am confident that we will have made the ambitious academic progress we seek.

Finding Fun: End of Quarter Reflection Part 1

I looked at the date of my last post—September 16; it has been a while since I last wrote, but it feels like no time at all. The last few weeks have been a whirlwind. As always, there have been peaks and valleys, but a routine is starting to build such that the swing of emotions has settled down. It’s an interesting feeling—each day is tiresome and challenging, but time passes with incredible pace. I am already done with my first quarter! I made it to my first real vacation, where I get to travel home for the first time in nearly a year and spend at least a little bit of time sitting around doing absolutely nothing. But more importantly, these nine days off give me a chance to reflect on the last few months without the daily stress of waking up too early, going to bed too late, and lesson planning during nearly every free moment. Much has happened during this time, and I believe that in terms of personal transformation, my experiences as a teacher have changed me more than during any other time in my life. 

My first few weeks as a real teacher were, quite honestly, miserable. No amount of training can fully prepare you for this work, but with only a few weeks of summer school teaching (where I only taught an hour a day) under my belt, I honestly had no idea what I was doing on day one. I had poorly planned lessons, inconsistent and ineffective classroom procedures, and no relationships with students. Days ranged from decent—where I felt like I could make it through the end of the year—to terrible—where I wanted to quit on the spot. At the end of my first quarter, things have greatly improved. I still have some poorly planned lessons; I still have many inconsistent and ineffective classroom procedures. However, my relationships with students have deepened. During those first few weeks, I remember lamenting to my friends and co-workers how my students were so far behind. “They don’t know how to sit still. They don’t know how to take notes. They don’t even know how to write their name on a paper.” I fixated on their shortcomings because that was all I could see. In retrospect, I blamed them because I could not blame myself. I am not sure I could have done it differently. As unfair as it was to cast my students in such an unfavorable light, if I would have dwelled on my own failures I am not sure I could have made it through those first few weeks. What allowed me to move past this pessimism was getting to know my students—understanding their interests, how they think, what challenges they face. They have also learned more about me—where I am from, why I am here, what kind of person I am. Even after two months, these relationships are still relatively shallow. From their perspective, I am still an outsider—White, privileged, not from their neighborhood. Not enough time has passed for me to break away from that characterization. However, one thing that has helped me tremendously is my age. As I was explaining to some of my students this week, I am closer to them in age than I am to most of my colleagues! Often, I feel I have more in common with my students than I do with the other adults at my school. I think this has helped my students (and me) feel more comfortable in my classroom. This has made all of the difference in the last few weeks. Over summer training, we talked frequently about “asset-based thinking”, which is a fancy way of describing how to focus on a person’s strengths instead of their weaknesses. We were constantly reminded to “see the best in our students” and to build our lessons around leveraging their strengths to transcend their struggles. This mode of thinking is absolutely correct and must be implemented to be a successful teacher, but what I failed to understand is that without building the emotional connection with your students, asset-based thinking is impossible or, at best, hopelessly shallow. It takes an exceptional level of compassion to fully embrace others without building any sort of relationship with them. I am the first to admit that I do not possess that level of compassion at this time. Thus, to truly see my students as wonderful, unique individuals requires time to connect with them on a personal level. That process began the first day they walked through my door and will continue throughout the entire year, but I am happy to say that I have started to see those relationships blossom. 

One of the important changes over the last few weeks has been that I have started to have fun with my students. I arrived at my school with a strong sense of my mission—to achieve transformational change for my students and help them reach their personal vision of success. Looking back at my earlier posts, that mission has been constant in my mind. It is what allowed me to get up each morning and make it through the day. A strong mission can drive individuals and groups to reach incredible heights, endure immense pain, and overcome unthinkable adversity. A common thread unites the entire span of human history—great accomplishments derive from a great sense of purpose. Without purpose, we are nothing. However, life is not purely defined by purpose. I do not believe that I exist solely to make the world a better place. I am not a martyr. More importantly, I cannot survive in this profession purely fueled by a mission, no matter how firmly I believe in it. I cannot be an effective teacher solely from a sense of purpose. Thus, my most important takeaway from my first months in the classroom is that I must enjoy my work to be successful. Further, to truly achieve transformational change in my classroom requires not just that students work diligently to reach their goals, but that they enjoy doing so. Not every single waking second needs to be enjoyable (though some of my students think it should be that way), but for students and teachers there must be moments of mutual joy—times where the distinction of “adult vs. child” falls away, if even just for an instant. For many of my students there are so many reasons for stress and despair in their lives that even those few minutes of pristine happiness make them want to come to school. For me, so much extra (for lack of a better word) crap goes along with being a teacher in an under-resourced school that the moments where I can simply enjoy interacting with my students are invaluable.

As I mentioned, the last few weeks of teaching have been much more enjoyable because of the relationships I have started to form with my students. These relationships are what create the moments of joy, which makes it easier to get up every morning. In an earlier post, I wrote about a pretty awful day—a day that I completely lost control of a class. I will never forget that day; it is a reminder of how challenging and depressing this work can be. In part two of my post, I want to share a different day. Ironically, it is also a day I will never forget—another day that I completely lost control of a class. This time, however, losing control didn’t turn out to be such a bad thing. 

To be continued…