I decided to stop teaching Geometry on April 4th. Starting April 5th, my students did review worksheets, watched movies, worked on projects (supposed to be learning experiences), or took meaningless, repetitive notes. The first question in my mind while planning for periods 5-7 became “How am I going to keep them quiet and away from me?” instead of “What should they learn?” or “How can I most effectively teach this?” I became the babysitter teacher.
Here’s a journal entry (copied, pasted, and bleeped) from April 4th about my Geometry students. FYI, my district policy is a mandatory 80% pass rate on tests, and my Geometry classes had 28+ students in each:
They don’t work. They don’t care. They copy other people’s work. They don’t study. If I force them to do their own work, they don’t think on their own so I get driven completely f**king nuts doing and explaining everything. If I let them work in groups, no one works; no one does anything except the really motivated people, and everyone else just copies. They don’t learn anything, then the test scores are bad. If tests are too bad, I have to retest. They’ll all fail on Monday because they won’t study the study guide. Or maybe they will.
F**k this. I’m tired. I’m mad at myself for not teaching them today. For saying f**k you to them. I’m just too tired to teach Geometry anymore. I explain it on the notes and then have to explain it again and again and again. I hate it. There are too many kids. There are too many kids. There are too many. Too many. If my classes were half this size, I might enjoy it, but I’m just burnt out now. I’m so f**king tired of teaching them. I’m not going to teach them anymore. I don’t like doing it.
I needed a vacation. My students needed an invested teacher. I didn’t quit the position, but I did quit caring about their learning. That is certainly failing as a teacher, and I consider it my biggest classroom failure. But is disinvestment a sign of failing/failure under the conditions at HSHS?
I don’t think so. Even though I stopped designing stellar lessons, I still gave the students who cared the opportunity to learn. Even though I reached my breaking point, I didn’t break. If I had pushed myself any harder, I would’ve left HSHS altogether by April 9th. Giving up class lessons was the only way for me to remain in the classroom and keep trying to teach someone something. It was definitely not an ideal solution, but HSHS has never had an ideal solution for anything.
Despite everything, I’m sorry.
On August 6, 2007, the principal of S.V. Marshall High School stood in the middle of the gymnasium and introduced the new teachers -- as usual, about 1/3 of the faculty -- to the assembled students. Four new math teachers were introduced, and the school year started with the following line-up:
7th grade - Ms. Gordon
8th grade - Mr. Arandt
9th grade - Mr. Ray
10th grade - Mr. Nastrom
11th grade - Mr. Naklicke
When the year ended the staffing pattern of those positions looked like this:
7th grade - Ms. Gordon / Long-term Sub / Ms. Clark
8th grade - Mr. Arandt / Long-term Sub / Mr. Collins / Long-term Sub / Ms. Walker
9th grade - Mr. Ray
10th grade - Mr. Nastrom
11th grade - Mr. Naklicke / Long-term Sub / Mr. Chisholm / Long-term Sub
Those are facts. It's also a fact that in August 2007, 26 MTC members started as 1st-year teachers and 24 were still there on the last day of school. To us in MTC, those numbers (92%) suck; anyone who quits in the middle of the school year is a tremendous disappointment. But in comparison to my department last year, which had only 40% of its original teachers at the end of the year and had lost 2 mid-year hires on top of that, 24 out of 26 isn't so bad.
In light of these numbers, I marvel at the internal worry in MTC over whether we're qualified to be there or whether we have good motives or whether we do any good at all. Now, after a year of teaching, the answers are so obvious the questions are barely worth asking. And a year ago, when I agreed to join MTC, I really checked at the door all reason to gaze at my own navel about these things. I signed up to do a job and that was that.
But that's just me, and I've been wrong before. Maybe I still should be looking deeper. Or maybe -- probably -- almost certainly, I really believe that I can do some good in a critical needs school, and self-doubt has no place in this theater of operations.
If the history books are right, Mississippi has always been a place for people willing to make big decisions in a big hurry and back them up with whatever it takes. I suppose that's still true.
Makes me wanna gag and hurl. The students at Harvard are by-and-large herded into careers that put people before profits (shoutout to my boy Philip Parham '09 who appears in the video, however). It relates to another discussion going on as well.
It's strange to write a blog evaluating my teaching. It's kind of like writing a blog analyzing my walking or my speaking, I can't be purely objective. Plus I have too much information about it to summarize neatly-- trends, exceptions, reactions under a variety of circumstances, etc. But, I'll give it a go.
My most successful lesson/objective was what I called "Really Really Long Equations." Basically it was just equations in one variable, no powers, that involved combining like terms and then solving a two-step equation: 3x +5 -29x +56 +2+2x -100=54, solve for x. It's not exactly in the frameworks, but I wanted my students to be comfortable solving intimidating equations. I figured these would help build my students' confidence. My students responded pretty well! They were proud when they solved the equations, they actually tried a lot harder than during my other lessons, and they voluntarily tutored each other! I think this was met with success because it is a very routine procedure. I think the intimidation factor helped a lot because getting the right answer to a mega-equation feels like more of an accomplishment than solving something with two pieces. So, it was an easy procedure with a big payoff. Nothing like rote processes!
My least successful lesson/objective was proofs in geometry. Definitely. Hands down, say it again. Proofs. It was so bad I just quit and moved on. I know, the only useful thing that comes out of geometry is the ability to do proofs, but it had to go. I made the biiiig mistake of trying that in October, when I still had 30-36 kids in every geometry class. That was mistake #1: trying to teach critical thinking to big classes. And, it was before I had my classroom management tightened down, so my kids were giving me "feedback" about the lessons in disrespectful and draining ways. And I had no materials (not enough texts and no supplemental materials) or administrative support, and my class basically went into revolt if I ever tried to teach them to think. If I had to do it again, I would've held off until the spring and then taught it veeeerry slooooowly. I think it could've been taught to my classes, but only after my classroom was managed and I had the common sense to introduce critical thinking very slowly. I'm still not convinced it would've worked. The top 40% would've gotten it just fine, but at least 50% of my students have been programmed to respond with hostility, anger, or disinterest whenever they are required to think. I'm not exaggerating-- half of my students purposely disengaging the minute they sense that a task will not be strictly procedural. I've tried to combat this all year, but I stand by my mantra: students in our schools will not learn when they are sharing the teacher with 28 other (unruly) students.
Overall, I think I did the best I could given my inexperience and lack of administrative support. I explained things carefully and tailored my worksheets, activities, and tests to each lesson. Next year, I want to teach the critical thinking processes. I stuck to procedural stuff this year because of the reasons above, but I want to try that next year. I want to have the courage to force my students to think, and the control to make them. I will have that for next year, so I'm excited for the changes in my teaching.
I feel that the learning goal that was most effective for me involved teaching the Middle Passage to my 8th graders in U.S. History (prior to 1877). Very simply, this lesson was highly effective because I showed the students a movie as oppose to talking to them (lecturing?) or giving them something to read. The students were glued to the TV screen and actively asked questions about what they saw in front of them. I've been conflicted about using movies in my class as the main means of instruction in any particular lesson. However, in light of this lesson, I've come to see their utility in teaching certain material. The collective audio and visual representation of historical events in conjunction with the fact that the average teenager in this country--or adult, for that matter--spends many more hours each day watching television than reading. I guess the students just get more out of that.
Although almost every day at Six Apart is Take Your Dog to Work Day, Friday was extra special because it was the official Take Your Dog to Work Day! Plus, as lovers of blogs and animals, we think it's great that active blogger and Human Society's President and CEO, Wayne Pacelle, thinks having dogs around the office is a good reminder of "who we're working for."
We realize some people have it ruff and aren't lucky enough to be able to bring their dog to work, but hopefully these pictures taken at Six Apart last Friday will get your tails wagging... And let me tell you, it's harder than it looks to get all the doggies and their fetching owners in one picture.
Here is the article with video: