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| photo by Kuya D |
The Pyrenees---Southern France
Sunday, September 12, 2010
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Saturday, September 11, 2010
Here Comes the Brinks Truck...And It's Loaded With Staples
Just when you think you are having a tough time, you hear from someone who has it worse...
This weekend I went to a Gateway Writing Project retreat. Gateway is part of the National Writing Project. If you're a teacher---whether it is PE or Science or Social Studies, and no matter what level---you should check out the closest National Writing Project site. (They're all over the country.) It is all about teachers teaching teachers, as they work to help their students develop into better thinkers.
I was feeling overwhelmed. Rushing out of work on Friday afternoon (just dumping piles of papers into a huge tub---my Tub O' Fun, I fondly call it---so I could grade them later in the weekend so I could prepare mid-quarter progress reports at an even later hour), my friend and I drove to the retreat. My friend needed coffee. I needed chocolate. We both needed sleep.
Not wanting to whine (there was no cheese and crackers to go along with it), I would reply, "They're going," when colleagues asked, "How are things going?" However, I soon realized how fortunate I am, at least in a small way.
One of the teachers read a hilarious piece (funny in a black, bleak way). She was miffed because one of her dry erase markers had been stolen. Not a big deal, she could just request another one to replace it. Except that she had just gotten the marker from the school's office manager, who said there were only 4 more left, and they had to last the rest of the school year. Were all the teachers in the school---20 or 30 or 40 or whatever---going to knife each other to get one of those markers?
This same teacher, when she needs staples, does not get a whole box of staples. Instead, she gets a "sleeve" of staples. Packaged up nice and neat in an envelope (probably so her colleagues do not see what she's holding as she walks down the hall--if they saw she had some staples, she might get mugged!)
When you see a Brinks truck barreling down the street, don't assume it's carrying money. It might be loaded up with dry erase markers and staples...
This weekend I went to a Gateway Writing Project retreat. Gateway is part of the National Writing Project. If you're a teacher---whether it is PE or Science or Social Studies, and no matter what level---you should check out the closest National Writing Project site. (They're all over the country.) It is all about teachers teaching teachers, as they work to help their students develop into better thinkers.
I was feeling overwhelmed. Rushing out of work on Friday afternoon (just dumping piles of papers into a huge tub---my Tub O' Fun, I fondly call it---so I could grade them later in the weekend so I could prepare mid-quarter progress reports at an even later hour), my friend and I drove to the retreat. My friend needed coffee. I needed chocolate. We both needed sleep.
Not wanting to whine (there was no cheese and crackers to go along with it), I would reply, "They're going," when colleagues asked, "How are things going?" However, I soon realized how fortunate I am, at least in a small way.
One of the teachers read a hilarious piece (funny in a black, bleak way). She was miffed because one of her dry erase markers had been stolen. Not a big deal, she could just request another one to replace it. Except that she had just gotten the marker from the school's office manager, who said there were only 4 more left, and they had to last the rest of the school year. Were all the teachers in the school---20 or 30 or 40 or whatever---going to knife each other to get one of those markers?
This same teacher, when she needs staples, does not get a whole box of staples. Instead, she gets a "sleeve" of staples. Packaged up nice and neat in an envelope (probably so her colleagues do not see what she's holding as she walks down the hall--if they saw she had some staples, she might get mugged!)
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| photo by grace_tee |
When you see a Brinks truck barreling down the street, don't assume it's carrying money. It might be loaded up with dry erase markers and staples...
Thursday, September 9, 2010
Seven Signs of an Overwhelmed Teacher
1. Bringing hot dogs to school to heat up for lunch...not enough time to snag anything else in the morning, and they were still in their packaging. (Chicken dogs take forever to cook in the microwave.)
2. Looking forward to watching certain TV shows. In the evening. On your television in your classroom. While you're still at work.
3. Taking a cloth grocery bag back and forth, from work to home, back to work and back home, sometimes 3 times a week. The bag is so full of papers to grade, you worry that it'll bust open, and cover the neighborhood with a three-inch layer of worksheets. Sometimes you don't even take the bag out of your car when you get home. But it waits for you every day, patiently...
4. Eating microwaved popcorn for dinner. Or yogurt. In the evening. In your classroom.
5. Noticing that every time test scores are mentioned, your left eye twitches uncontrollably for 8minutes weeks.
6. During a choking incident, your teaching partner has to perform the heimlich manuever on you in the teacher's lounge because you wolfed down your lunch (see #1) in 12 minutes so you would have time to go back to...(drum roll, please) your classroom to grade papers.
7. This school year you have not worn makeup once. You took your makeup bag out of your purse when cleaning it out, put the makeup bag somewhere (at long red lights is when it's applied, usually), and do not have the energy/time to look for it. (So now your school has a genuine "Scared Straight" program; just one look at Mrs. R without any makeup will cause trembling and paralysis.)
What is a sign that you are overworked or overwhelmed? (As a teacher? As a writer? As a parent?)
2. Looking forward to watching certain TV shows. In the evening. On your television in your classroom. While you're still at work.
3. Taking a cloth grocery bag back and forth, from work to home, back to work and back home, sometimes 3 times a week. The bag is so full of papers to grade, you worry that it'll bust open, and cover the neighborhood with a three-inch layer of worksheets. Sometimes you don't even take the bag out of your car when you get home. But it waits for you every day, patiently...
4. Eating microwaved popcorn for dinner. Or yogurt. In the evening. In your classroom.
5. Noticing that every time test scores are mentioned, your left eye twitches uncontrollably for 8
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| photo by burnitblue |
7. This school year you have not worn makeup once. You took your makeup bag out of your purse when cleaning it out, put the makeup bag somewhere (at long red lights is when it's applied, usually), and do not have the energy/time to look for it. (So now your school has a genuine "Scared Straight" program; just one look at Mrs. R without any makeup will cause trembling and paralysis.)
What is a sign that you are overworked or overwhelmed? (As a teacher? As a writer? As a parent?)
I Want to Steal That Line!
This afternoon we took up some of our math time to continue writing, since we go to recess from 11:00-11:20, have writing from 11:20-11:50, then lunch from 11:50-12:20. Drinks of water and bathroom trips have to be squeezed in somehow and somewhere.
The students have worked on beginning drafts of their memoirs. At the third grade, their beginnings are not always engaging. Some Most of them are not experienced story-tellers, so they think, "This story is about a time when I was excited," is a great opening line.
Today I told a story about when I broke my arm. I told the story in just a couple of sentences: "When I was 12 I fell off the high diving board. Part of me went into the water and part of me landed on the concrete."
I then asked if they had any questions---questions that were not answered by that kernel of a story. They had many questions. Did I have to see a nurse or doctor? Did I cry? What part of me landed on the concrete? (They probably thought it was surely my head that hit the cement!) Did I cry? Did I get into trouble? What made me fall?
I then chose one of the questions that interested me the most, and used it as a springboard for a new story beginning. I chose the "Did you cry?" question.
I didn't cry when it happened. I didn't cry when everyone at the pool was talking about me. I didn't cry as I walked home. I didn't even cry when I got home and my mom asked why I was back from the pool so early---I just slipped into my room. But I did finally cry when, no longer able to hide my arm, I admitted to my mom that something was wrong. Something terrible had happened at the pool, and now my arm couldn't even hold a towel...
That day began like any other summer day. I went...
The students saw that they can begin in the middle, and flash back in time. A really cool thing that writers do is keep the reader in suspense for a bit. The author does not have to tell what the story is about in the first sentence. Let the reader be intrigued. Let them hunger for more...
Following are a few beginnings the kids wrote:
Yes, I did cry.
I cried when my mom put me on her back. I cried when I got in the car. I cried when I got in the house. My mom told me to stop crying. I did not stop.
She got some alcohol. It was cold. She put it on my knee and she told me to stop crying and I stopped crying. She put a bandaid on it and went to my gran's house.
-------------------------------------------------
Yes, I was scared. When I had opened the door he was getting closer to me, so I went to the back of my closet and I stayed there.
My heart was beating so fast. The closet was so dark in there, I was scared even more so.
(That story is about an older brother who scared her when he put on a mask.)
---------------------------------------------------
When it happened, everyone cried 'til they dropped to their knees. Everyone begged for him to come alive.
But the doctor said he was dead.
( I love the image of family members dropping to their knees. I told this student I wanted to steal that line and use it in a story of my own.)
---------------------------------------
I never forgave my aunt.
When I see her at holidays, I think of what she had done. Sometimes when I see her I walk away from her. Sometimes I even get in trouble with her, and we start to argue, so then I go to my grandma's room because my aunt infuriates me.
I'm still mad at her to this day...
(This student had a pet dog, and the aunt sold the dog at a yard sale---without the family's permission.)
Hopefully I will have more promising beginnings tomorrow. (Most of the class took them home to work on them.)
The students have worked on beginning drafts of their memoirs. At the third grade, their beginnings are not always engaging. Some Most of them are not experienced story-tellers, so they think, "This story is about a time when I was excited," is a great opening line.
Today I told a story about when I broke my arm. I told the story in just a couple of sentences: "When I was 12 I fell off the high diving board. Part of me went into the water and part of me landed on the concrete."
I then asked if they had any questions---questions that were not answered by that kernel of a story. They had many questions. Did I have to see a nurse or doctor? Did I cry? What part of me landed on the concrete? (They probably thought it was surely my head that hit the cement!) Did I cry? Did I get into trouble? What made me fall?
I then chose one of the questions that interested me the most, and used it as a springboard for a new story beginning. I chose the "Did you cry?" question.
I didn't cry when it happened. I didn't cry when everyone at the pool was talking about me. I didn't cry as I walked home. I didn't even cry when I got home and my mom asked why I was back from the pool so early---I just slipped into my room. But I did finally cry when, no longer able to hide my arm, I admitted to my mom that something was wrong. Something terrible had happened at the pool, and now my arm couldn't even hold a towel...
That day began like any other summer day. I went...
The students saw that they can begin in the middle, and flash back in time. A really cool thing that writers do is keep the reader in suspense for a bit. The author does not have to tell what the story is about in the first sentence. Let the reader be intrigued. Let them hunger for more...
Following are a few beginnings the kids wrote:
Yes, I did cry.
I cried when my mom put me on her back. I cried when I got in the car. I cried when I got in the house. My mom told me to stop crying. I did not stop.
She got some alcohol. It was cold. She put it on my knee and she told me to stop crying and I stopped crying. She put a bandaid on it and went to my gran's house.
-------------------------------------------------
Yes, I was scared. When I had opened the door he was getting closer to me, so I went to the back of my closet and I stayed there.
My heart was beating so fast. The closet was so dark in there, I was scared even more so.
(That story is about an older brother who scared her when he put on a mask.)
---------------------------------------------------
When it happened, everyone cried 'til they dropped to their knees. Everyone begged for him to come alive.
But the doctor said he was dead.
( I love the image of family members dropping to their knees. I told this student I wanted to steal that line and use it in a story of my own.)
---------------------------------------
I never forgave my aunt.
When I see her at holidays, I think of what she had done. Sometimes when I see her I walk away from her. Sometimes I even get in trouble with her, and we start to argue, so then I go to my grandma's room because my aunt infuriates me.
I'm still mad at her to this day...
(This student had a pet dog, and the aunt sold the dog at a yard sale---without the family's permission.)
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| photo by anthonyasael |
Hopefully I will have more promising beginnings tomorrow. (Most of the class took them home to work on them.)
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
Meet the Child Who Will Someday Be in Charge of My Bedpan
I am worried about today's youth...
Too many parents today enable their children. They get bent out of shape over inconsequential things (candy taken away by a teacher, the school enforcing the rules) and aren't aggressive advocates when they should be, like when their son or daughter is reading below grade level, or when their child has difficulties managing their anger or when their kids are not learning responsible work habits.
If children live their childhood being considered the "exception" and thus do not have to follow the rules and and can regularly overstep the parameters, what kind of adult will they become? Are the rules always going to bend for them? I doubt it...
These children will grow up to become our leaders. Our business owners. Our caregivers.
I am definitely worried about today's youth...
Too many parents today enable their children. They get bent out of shape over inconsequential things (candy taken away by a teacher, the school enforcing the rules) and aren't aggressive advocates when they should be, like when their son or daughter is reading below grade level, or when their child has difficulties managing their anger or when their kids are not learning responsible work habits.
If children live their childhood being considered the "exception" and thus do not have to follow the rules and and can regularly overstep the parameters, what kind of adult will they become? Are the rules always going to bend for them? I doubt it...
These children will grow up to become our leaders. Our business owners. Our caregivers.
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| photo by le silly |
I am definitely worried about today's youth...
Monday, September 6, 2010
It Was a Dark and Stormy Spirit...
For those writers who are discouraged, for those who still (like me) dream of someday having a book of theirs in bookstores, please check out Rumjhum Biswas' blog. She has included an anecdote from a writing magazine that is sure to strengthen your spirit and keep the flame of hope burning...
Check out her posting from today (9/6/10). Her posts are wicked cool; unfortunately, I think I have to sign up for a wordpress blog in order to post a comment. Since I've gone blog-beserk enough with just one, I cannot afford to double the madness.
So, if any wordpress bloggers are out there and read this, please relay to Rumjhum Biswas that I just found her yesterday, on my blog I have a link to her blog, I would be a follower but alas, cannot, and I loved her poem about how she wanted to be remembered...
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| photo by krazykrayons |
Check out her posting from today (9/6/10). Her posts are wicked cool; unfortunately, I think I have to sign up for a wordpress blog in order to post a comment. Since I've gone blog-beserk enough with just one, I cannot afford to double the madness.
So, if any wordpress bloggers are out there and read this, please relay to Rumjhum Biswas that I just found her yesterday, on my blog I have a link to her blog, I would be a follower but alas, cannot, and I loved her poem about how she wanted to be remembered...
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