Great workshops they never offer

The following is something I found on the internet years ago and stored on my computer hard drive. Don't know who wrote it (does anyone out there know?) but they've got to be a teacher. Enjoy!

 

Great Summer Workshops They NEVER offer:

 * Health Alert: School Lunch Food and Your Aging Body

* Someday Man Will Walk on the Moon: Teaching With Textbooks Older Than Your Students

* How Asbestos in Your Building Can Shield You from Radon

* 101 Ways to Reinvent the Wheel

* Subcontracting your Paper Grading

* Practicing Your Classroom Spontaneity

* Overcoming That Sunday Night Feeling

* Working at Home to Get Ready for Your School Preparation Time

* The Multiple Personality Advantage: Reducing your Student/Teacher Ratio

Interview questions for real teachers

About a month ago, I was going to interviews in preparation for returning from a leave from teaching this past year. And it didn't take me long to realize that questions that would have been relatively easy to answer during my first couple of years of teaching ("Describe a lesson that went really well") had become really difficult now that I have 14 years of experience to consider. What kind of lesson? When? The one year when I had that class who loved to do whatever I suggested (Jump off a bridge? Yaaay!! We'll do it Ms A!!) , or the year when I had that class where just finding something that kept everyone mildly engaged was a major triumph? (One day I resorted to promising to do a headstand at the end of class if everyone buckled down and got their work done. They did, and I did, although I should have picked a day when I wasn't wearing a skirt)

In the midst of the last interview, my mind wandering while I considered "If I walked into your class, describe what I'd be likely to see" (another question where my experiences blended into a big mucky ball of "It depends"), I started pondering what really effective teacher interview questions might be like. The kind that gets right to the guts of what it is to be a teacher.

1. How big is your bladder? (If your classroom is at one end of the school and the staff bathroom is at the other, better be careful what you drink and when).

2. It's a June afternoon, there's a wasp looping around the classroom and at least 3 students screaming. What do you do? (Get the screamers to be quiet and stop waving their arms, turn out the lights, open the windows and give the poor little guy some time to escape).

3. Describe a time when, after a lot of discussion, there was a staff vote and you were unhappy with the outcome. How did you react? (Actually, this is a serious question. There are those who admit they're unhappy but put their feelings aside and do their best to make the new situation work, and there are those who say they're fine but, behind the scenes, mutter away and work to undermine things).

4. What do you really do during staff meetings? (Are you that person who's marking a pile of spelling assignments and totally ignoring what's going on?)

5. There's someone on your teaching team who is not only new to teaching, but so bursting with ideas that he/she keeps giving you unsolicited advice on what you could be doing with your class. How do you react? (A few years back, I witnessed a very enthusiastic new teacher explaining to our experienced, and very capable, head secretary, how she could do a better job keeping track of field trip forms. She just smiled...)

6. What do you bring when it's your turn for "Goody Day"? (Something with chocolate? You're hired!)

The dog ate it

Last night I had my first back-to-school dream, which reminded me that in just a couple of months I'll be finished my education leave. So how realistic was the dream?

It was very similar to what's written below which I actually wrote a couple of years ago. And you can tell I wrote it in November because it has that nice bitter edge to it (whereas if it were written in February it would have just been an all-out rant):

 

"It’s now Monday, 5 pm and in the last couple of days I’ve gotten through a big chunk of my marking with only some frustration at the number of kids who simply haven’t handed in assignments. This frustration will grow tomorrow however when I hand out some warning letters and hear the usual excuses:

-      you didn’t tell us when it was due (although I handed out an assignment sheet on the first day, gave reminders about the due date each class, wrote it on the whiteboard, wrote it in the homework section of the whiteboard, and posted it on the homework website)

-      I didn’t know I didn’t hand it in (and, yes, it is hard when you’ve lost touch with yourself like that)

-      I lost it (and you’re in such a state of grief that it didn’t occur to you to a) actually look for it or b) start again)

-      I was away (for one class and you were so disoriented it didn’t occur to you to ask someone what you missed)

-      I did hand it in so you must have lost it (only to find that it’s in your locker/folder/knapsack/binder – there’s never an apology for the accusation)

-      You didn’t give us enough time in class (160 minutes over 2 weeks just isn’t enough time when you have friends to talk to!)

And no doubt other excuses will surface as well. Some students will smarten up; some will continue to do this for the remainder of the year and into grade 9 and beyond; some in [my teaching partner's] homeroom class will decide that I’m really really mean and being, like, totally unfair and will act up during class. Yay, can’t wait"

May the next couple of months go by reeeaaallly slowly...

Turn to page 173

There are about five old middle school math textbooks sitting on my bookshelf. And what they have in common, besides being about math (can't get anything past you, can I), is that they all contain student graffiti.

What is it about these texts that make kids want to give everyone in the photos green teeth? I'm sure there are many reasons, but my current theory is that it's due to the insufferable characters that populate these books.

For instance: Fabian charges $3 for each bag of leaves he rakes, and $5 for mowing the lawn. On Sunday, Fabian mowed 1 lawn and raked leaves. He earned $14. How many bags of leaves did Fabian rake?

This raises many questions. Like, why don't we just ask him? Didn't he used to be some kind of celebrity in the 60s? What kind of sad career trajectory did he have that has lead him to this kind of poorly paid landscaping work? Has he thought about planning a comeback tour?

The text doesn't address any of these issues of course. No, some unnamed mystery character decides to model the situation using algebra tiles. Of course! (let me take a moment here to smack myself upside the head) There is no mention as to whether or not Fabian is helping. He's probably still mad that no one has thought to ask him.

As far as I can tell, as soon as the matter of the number of bags of leaves is answered (it's 3), Fabian runs off with his money because he doesn't appear in any more problems in the text.

And I think I know what he did with the money. I think he went out and bought some felt markers. Green ones.

 

An aside
I write entries so often *cough* that it's such a triumph when I remember how to log on.

At least no one threw anything

I swear, the toughest crowd to present to is a group of teachers on a professional development day.

Particularly when it's a Friday. And an afternoon. And it's sunny. And it's February. And maybe I should have counted myself lucky that anyone showed up at all.

The workshop was about number theory games for middle school and upper elementary classrooms. It's one I've delivered at several conferences now, and I know the material is engaging and worthwhile because usually the sessions turn out to be lively and fun. But this last occasion was a real eye-opener.

Of the 8 in attendance,  one teacher spent the first 30 minutes alternating between texting on her iPhone and just staring at me blankly. I wasn't sure if she was having a personal crisis or was just catatonic.

Another teacher took every opportunity during general group discussions to start talking about another workshop she'd attended that morning and the games they'd played there. And she went on, and on.... I was starting to wonder if the morning presenter had maybe bribed her.

Honestly, if those two teachers had been sitting closer together, I would have been sorely tempted to bash their heads together.

Thank goodness for the other six participants, who not only were enthusiastic about the activities but managed to eventually pull in the other two as well.

I do understand what it feels like to attend a February pro-d day. You are hoping for some new ideas and activities, but you've got a chance to see colleagues (adults!!) you haven't seen in ages and you just want to relax and chat. Plus you're tired, and spring break feels like it will never get here.

On the other hand, I bet you wouldn't be happy if your students acted like that. Oh, the irony.

 

 

Should I know you?

For a split second I was convinced the plants at the mall were actually talking about me.

A sign I'd been working too hard? No. The voices were actually coming from three 12 year old girls behind the plants.

"Did Ms Armstrong see us?" "Shh..."

Even after all these years, I'm still getting used to being Ms Armstrong in public. It seems for every former student who leaps over a counter to give me a big hug and ask if I remember her, there is another (like the other day at the grocery store) who turns ashen when we accidently catch each others eyes and resolutely turns the other way to keep talking to his friends.

And I get it - when you're 14 and with your friends, the last thing you want is an adult getting all "Oh, look how much you've grown" on you.

It's the students in the middle whom I'm not sure how to react to. We make eye contact, and I can tell they know who I am, but I'm never sure of the next step. Particularly if they're a cashier and we're in the middle of a transaction. Usually, there's this bob and weave of glances until one of us is brave enough to say "Didn't you used to go to...?" or "Don't you teach at...?" 

But a few months ago I found myself faced with a former student, now cashier, who not only wouldn't meet my eyes again, but I noticed her tilting her head my way and rolling her eyes at the guy doing the bagging. Needless to say, I didn't acknowledge that I knew her and unless my husband manages to get us into her line-up on grocery day, I try to avoid her till. I don't remember us having a bad relationship way back when, but who knows...

But there are things far more contentious than groceries. My old school is located just a few blocks away from the mall. I remember a new vice principal joining our staff and, during one of our first conversations, how she noted that she lived near our school: "Now I can't buy my underwear at the mall anymore."

I thought it would be that way too when I first started working at that school. But I had a tip for her. If you're buying something potentially embarrassing, do it at Sears - no self-respecting middle school student goes into Sears without a parent dragging them.

Old habits die hard

It's been awhile since I've posted because I've been on a leave from teaching to focus on my graduate studies. And it occurred to me the other day that I've finally reached a state where I don't look at the clock and automatically think "Oh, it's block 3 and we'd just be finishing the warm-up activity."

And it's been a couple of months since I last jumped up from my desk after hearing the lunch bell of the elementary school down the block. Or since I bolted down my lunch at my desk. Or since I woke up early and thought, maybe I should leave for school early so that I can get that photocopying done.

Still, it's taken awhile...

 

 

Mathematics and Poetry

The following excerpt is from The 10th MacClement Lecture given by Dr. Peter Taylor at Queen's University in March 1995.

 The real difference between the math text book and the poetry text book derives almost totally from the economic value that society has put on mathematics that it does not confer upon poetry. If poetry were considered crucial to the economic well-being of our nation, there would be highly prescriptive ministry guidelines for the grade 12 poetry course too and most of the approved poems would have been written by a committee. The skills needed to read and analyze a poem would have been identified and codified, and instread of the Gauss and the Pascal, the Cayley and the Fermat, the Euclid and the Descartes, all male I might add, you'd have the Milton and the Blake, the Wordsworth and the Keats, the Elizabeth Barrett Browning (how do I love thee? let me count the ways) and the Emily Dickinson.

What bitter irony: that the superior valuation of mathematics is what is responsible for the disasters of our math curriculum.

Even more ironic is the possibility that poetry may have more deep economic worth than we have had the courage to imagine.

The Basics

While it's good that teachers take workshops and courses, it doesn't always provide that real "student" feeling. Well this summer I got it, plus some, when I relived what are probably the basic concerns students have when the first days of school roll around.

* Does the teacher like me?

This was probably the biggest surprise of all, something I thought I was long past, but this question was the heart of the whole endeavour. I've always made an effort to connect with all of my students, but I think I'm going to try harder now.

* Does the teacher understand who I am and what my circumstances are?

My next worry was that the teacher wouldn't understand that, although I'm a quiet person, I was completely engaged in what we were doing and was putting in a full effort. Honestly, whenever I see the words "Class participation" on a syllabus, a little part of me dies. On the teacher side of things, I know that when a student is outgoing it seems to make it easier for me to assess what they know; I also know that everyone is different and part of my job is to make sure they feel comfortable to contribute in various ways.

* Do I belong in this group?

It's hard to walk into a room and see that everyone is apparently already sitting with their friends and happily engaged in conversations. This reminded me of the importance of ice-breaker activities, to give students openings for finding out what they have in common with people they don't yet know.

* Do I understand anything about this subject/topic?

I hadn't really considered the importance of establishing connections while introducing a new topic until I took a course this summer with a prof who just barrelled in and started talking about her academic passions. Her enthusiasm was engaging, but I didn't have the background to follow what she was talking about. I felt like an idiot for several days. I hung in there, but I can understand why someone would give up.

* Is it okay if I need help? How can I get help?

Fortunately, in the above situation, my enthusiastic prof was also a sensitive one, and she made an effort to meet with each of us individually to see how we were doing and discuss what we might want to do for projects. That helped to reduce my stress level immensely. 

September flies by, and there have been times I've wondered if I'm not getting to the content fast enough. This summer I relearned that without connection and safety you may not be able to even reach the content.