There is no doubt Bloomberg and Klein are fighting a war against teachers. You need look no further than the insanity of my weekly experience. Perhaps the most hilarious moment yet was our professional development on Monday. We were introduced to "Mimio" technology, which is all well in good if we weren't working in a school with a shrinking budget about to be closed. And, the curriculum we are mandated to use in English and Social Studies specfically forbids the use of streaming video and the internet which makes the use of Mimio no more than a blackboard trick, certainly not one worth over 500 dollars to start.
Why keep teachers in a professional development in which you teach them about a technology they can't use and you can't afford to buy anyway? To frustrate them and make them feel obsolete, that's why.
How much did it cost for the demonstration? One of the teachers who attended a workshop for this product was given a t-shirt by the saleslady. Couldn't we, at least, have all had t-shirts? How about backpacks for the students with the logo? No?
31 March, 2009
30 March, 2009
Why can't you behave?
Ten minutes after I talked to a kid, trying to make a deal that if he behaved he could earn a prize of some kind, he did nothing.....
Can you hear me? No, I mean, really.
A few days ago I called a parent about her son's lack of focus. I knew her son was deaf, but since he gets to work with a hearing teacher twice a week, I thought his services were in order. Plus, as I am continually reminded, I am the NON-SPECIAL-ED LICENCE-HOLDING person in the room. In the early part of my conversation with the parent, which spanned all three main floors of the building, the mother asks, "Is he wearing his earpiece?" "What earpiece?" "His teachers are supposed to wear this halo which is connected directly to his earpiece." This would've sounded very odd except that as a college counselor I went to conferences were I learned about all the fantastic devices out there to make college possible despite disability, one of these being a device which the teacher wears which does look kind of like a halo around your head and connects back to an earpiece and microphone on the student. I walk my phone over to special ed deptand ask the question about this. "I've got to find it," remarks the woman temporarily in charge of the dept while our chair nurses her newborn. My suspicion is it was lost long before her temporary tenure began. She tells me go down to the principal and ask. I take my cell phone, parent on the other end down to the principal's office. No, he won't just come on the cell phone. She has to call and see if her call is worthy with the principal's secretary first. I tell him what it's about and that the parent is more than concerned. He says she should call the Guidance Counselor for Special Education who is not in that day and with whom I have not had a lot of excellent experience. I find it laughable that he called me on being "not in compliance" when I took a few special ed students out of our classroom to work with separately because they were faster and more rambunctious than the other half of the class. Did he know that WE WERE ALL not in compliances as far as this young man's hearing headgear? I mean, basically, he's deaf as a post. And he sits through the same class he has with us in the period before he works with us -- so he is inundated with aural blur of the same kind for 100 minutes. We wonder why he goes to sleep?
My colleague in the class with the Special-Ed license says that she hasn't ever worked with this device on this young man and she has taught him for most of this year. No one told her a thing about it. That it was once, then that it was lost, etc. As she is meticulous, I believe her. In fact, from the conversation in the special ed office it seems that it was assumed the student would just go without this earpiece and they saw no reason to mention it.
But, I wasn't in compliance working with this kid one - to - four at one table where he could definitely hear me. I am sure that he hears my colleague and much of what goes on in her class because she is clear, but he has other classes which are chaotic and large and not so artfully run. He has often brought up points from the book we are reading which he says he has heard in his other class -- the very same English class taught by another teacher with three times as many students. The points don't seem familiar and I suspect he has half-heard them.
My colleague in the class with the Special-Ed license says that she hasn't ever worked with this device on this young man and she has taught him for most of this year. No one told her a thing about it. That it was once, then that it was lost, etc. As she is meticulous, I believe her. In fact, from the conversation in the special ed office it seems that it was assumed the student would just go without this earpiece and they saw no reason to mention it.
But, I wasn't in compliance working with this kid one - to - four at one table where he could definitely hear me. I am sure that he hears my colleague and much of what goes on in her class because she is clear, but he has other classes which are chaotic and large and not so artfully run. He has often brought up points from the book we are reading which he says he has heard in his other class -- the very same English class taught by another teacher with three times as many students. The points don't seem familiar and I suspect he has half-heard them.
23 March, 2009
Sticky Notes
If I ever, ever, ever again make a form to teach students how to use Post-It's, someone please shoot me in the hip, immediately.
What depravity will I engage in next?
What depravity will I engage in next?
Knowing when to speak out, gaining perspective and losing my job
Of course, if I had to name the top anxiety I feel since being an ATR, it's the last item in the title of this posting. Norm Scott notes in Ednotesonline.com that only 16 ATR's have been hired since the union and the DOE made the "agreement" not to force anyone to hire us, but to provide financial support for some principals who hire some of us.
In the surrealist festival which is my day job, I sometimes take too seriously my inifinitessimal role in the school and don't realize how much everyone else does.
A great depression builds over me for I have done no good in a long time and I have not learned that it doesn't matter if I personally do good, at all.
In the surrealist festival which is my day job, I sometimes take too seriously my inifinitessimal role in the school and don't realize how much everyone else does.
A great depression builds over me for I have done no good in a long time and I have not learned that it doesn't matter if I personally do good, at all.
22 March, 2009
Curriculum Guide
Since I've become an ATR, I've become even less politically astute than before. Didn't think it was possible.
We had a meeting regarding the new curriculum we are using this term. Well, technically it's not really knew as it was used on these same kids when they were in 9th grade. But, new curriculum guides were purchased and even new copies of the same banal book the kids read years ago. There ARE some books worth re-reading at different points in your educational life. Usually, books designed specifically to meet the needs of a particular grade level -- in this case, middle school -- are not one of them. The students don't read at HS level, by and large, but assigning them a book geared to JHS kids was not a good idea. The themes are beneath them and don't merit revisiting. What they needed was something geared to HS kids written at a lower reading level. Or, they needed a book worth reading twice, which is not this book.
During our meeting about this curriculum, I found myself talking. That alone was a mistake. I know that I should keep my mouth shut, but for whatever reason, I needed to pretend to be empowered. When you are an ATR, I think, you want to do as much as possible and to try to connect with the center of the school. What you don't realize is how rotten things are at core and what influences whom because you're new to an already tainted environment and you're not given enough stake in it to get into the kinds of political battles which help you to learn what's worth fighting for. The lessons which go with this book are very amorphous and I've held back from completely suggeting a new structure with accompanying handouts. I said enough, however, to get the administration to use me to create items to make themselves look good -- rubrics for grading. As if there was really material here from which to differentiate.... However, my skills in education b.s. exceed theirs because I am good at creating meaning in activities and evaluations in and of themselves. Part of this comes from watching a colleague design rubrics for grading English essays which were harder than the English Regents, but used the same basic formula. Part of this comes from living in a world in which what the students do in the lesson is the meat of the lesson. It's been years since I've ever seen teachers asked to actually SAY what they are working on without an accompanying action. The phrase, "speak it into existence" has never been so wrongly used. It's not the teachers' fault and its probably not the administrators' fault either. We are all forced to make use of a product.
Indeed, at one point, one person referred to the "decisions" of "America's Choice," the for-profit organization who designed our curriculum. I thought, "that's the name of a company. They're not Harvard, for god's sake. What gives them academic credibility? Next you'll be selling me a curriculum by Fisher Price and speaking of them as if they were run by descendants of Moses."
My biggest mistake, however, was offering to create the enabling materials to make this business look less half-baked than it is. I don't want to seem like I am betraying my colleagues in doing this and I won't do it again, I think. The problem is that we are going to have bigger and bigger problems trying to engage students with this material as it only gets more amorphous and unbound to form as it continues. There's no build of skills upon the other -- there's a reference to a collection of habits students are supposed to develop. I've found that good habits need to be taught thoroughly and sometimes in stages. You can't just say you're teaching them even if you model them. Students need to know, "How." I'll give you an example of the kind of absurdist practice my colleagues and I are forced to perform.
One element of this curriculum is the use of "Sticky Notes," to mark important passages in a book. As a fan of the pen, highlighter and bookmark, I've never actually employed a Post-It to this end. When the students were told to do just that next to an image which they could envision, they were baffled.
First, where to put it: above, below, adjacent? Next: Do I really see what the author says or do I just kind of? If the latter, well does it get a note? Third: Should I put the page number on the note in case it falls out? Wouldn't it just be easier to mark it in my notes?
Since most students don't get the same book again to work with, they might never see this Sticky Note again. Even if they do, they were so busy trying to figure out the logistics that they fell behind in the text which was being read aloud by the teacher. So, they became even more frustrated.
I suggested that the students put their notes on a separate sheet of paper with spaces for each note, page number and, is turns out as I draft it, circling whether it's a description of a place, character or feeling. I didn't get into whether the student can fully visualize the image or not. When I read, I don't necessarily see things immediately, but the overall feeling of the language reaches me. Then, in discussion or re-reading, I see it more fully. Let's not forget that a lot of writing lends itself to synasthaesia. Too bad we're not reading Rememberance of Things Past.
So I found myself defining a real skill and method to cover for an unfinished idea. Students should take note of extensive descriptions as usually they are in place for a reason. I'm not sure that they don't do this already, but they don't generally take notes. The problem is, that in order to distinguish between what's worth noting or not, you have to understand its connection to the plot and themes as a whole. Probably, I'll have to put that in the worksheet. Now, I don't want students not to see things outside of the larger themes -- or necessarily think these are the only themes. Ideally, people would underscore what moves them. However, you usually aren't moved by abstraction that is not connected to something you seek. Since the book isn't really the sort that touches upon universal yearnings, it's good to get them to define what ideas it does have....inasmuch as it does.
Now, the final rub is it will take a long time to do this exercise if I create it right --- and we have been criticized for going over the appointed time for the curriculum. This was explained in this meeting as not meant to limit how much time we take, but that we should make sure that "teaching and learning is taking place" if we do go over. There's concrete for you. Not.
Next time, best to bring and eat cookies.
We had a meeting regarding the new curriculum we are using this term. Well, technically it's not really knew as it was used on these same kids when they were in 9th grade. But, new curriculum guides were purchased and even new copies of the same banal book the kids read years ago. There ARE some books worth re-reading at different points in your educational life. Usually, books designed specifically to meet the needs of a particular grade level -- in this case, middle school -- are not one of them. The students don't read at HS level, by and large, but assigning them a book geared to JHS kids was not a good idea. The themes are beneath them and don't merit revisiting. What they needed was something geared to HS kids written at a lower reading level. Or, they needed a book worth reading twice, which is not this book.
During our meeting about this curriculum, I found myself talking. That alone was a mistake. I know that I should keep my mouth shut, but for whatever reason, I needed to pretend to be empowered. When you are an ATR, I think, you want to do as much as possible and to try to connect with the center of the school. What you don't realize is how rotten things are at core and what influences whom because you're new to an already tainted environment and you're not given enough stake in it to get into the kinds of political battles which help you to learn what's worth fighting for. The lessons which go with this book are very amorphous and I've held back from completely suggeting a new structure with accompanying handouts. I said enough, however, to get the administration to use me to create items to make themselves look good -- rubrics for grading. As if there was really material here from which to differentiate.... However, my skills in education b.s. exceed theirs because I am good at creating meaning in activities and evaluations in and of themselves. Part of this comes from watching a colleague design rubrics for grading English essays which were harder than the English Regents, but used the same basic formula. Part of this comes from living in a world in which what the students do in the lesson is the meat of the lesson. It's been years since I've ever seen teachers asked to actually SAY what they are working on without an accompanying action. The phrase, "speak it into existence" has never been so wrongly used. It's not the teachers' fault and its probably not the administrators' fault either. We are all forced to make use of a product.
Indeed, at one point, one person referred to the "decisions" of "America's Choice," the for-profit organization who designed our curriculum. I thought, "that's the name of a company. They're not Harvard, for god's sake. What gives them academic credibility? Next you'll be selling me a curriculum by Fisher Price and speaking of them as if they were run by descendants of Moses."
My biggest mistake, however, was offering to create the enabling materials to make this business look less half-baked than it is. I don't want to seem like I am betraying my colleagues in doing this and I won't do it again, I think. The problem is that we are going to have bigger and bigger problems trying to engage students with this material as it only gets more amorphous and unbound to form as it continues. There's no build of skills upon the other -- there's a reference to a collection of habits students are supposed to develop. I've found that good habits need to be taught thoroughly and sometimes in stages. You can't just say you're teaching them even if you model them. Students need to know, "How." I'll give you an example of the kind of absurdist practice my colleagues and I are forced to perform.
One element of this curriculum is the use of "Sticky Notes," to mark important passages in a book. As a fan of the pen, highlighter and bookmark, I've never actually employed a Post-It to this end. When the students were told to do just that next to an image which they could envision, they were baffled.
First, where to put it: above, below, adjacent? Next: Do I really see what the author says or do I just kind of? If the latter, well does it get a note? Third: Should I put the page number on the note in case it falls out? Wouldn't it just be easier to mark it in my notes?
Since most students don't get the same book again to work with, they might never see this Sticky Note again. Even if they do, they were so busy trying to figure out the logistics that they fell behind in the text which was being read aloud by the teacher. So, they became even more frustrated.
I suggested that the students put their notes on a separate sheet of paper with spaces for each note, page number and, is turns out as I draft it, circling whether it's a description of a place, character or feeling. I didn't get into whether the student can fully visualize the image or not. When I read, I don't necessarily see things immediately, but the overall feeling of the language reaches me. Then, in discussion or re-reading, I see it more fully. Let's not forget that a lot of writing lends itself to synasthaesia. Too bad we're not reading Rememberance of Things Past.
So I found myself defining a real skill and method to cover for an unfinished idea. Students should take note of extensive descriptions as usually they are in place for a reason. I'm not sure that they don't do this already, but they don't generally take notes. The problem is, that in order to distinguish between what's worth noting or not, you have to understand its connection to the plot and themes as a whole. Probably, I'll have to put that in the worksheet. Now, I don't want students not to see things outside of the larger themes -- or necessarily think these are the only themes. Ideally, people would underscore what moves them. However, you usually aren't moved by abstraction that is not connected to something you seek. Since the book isn't really the sort that touches upon universal yearnings, it's good to get them to define what ideas it does have....inasmuch as it does.
Now, the final rub is it will take a long time to do this exercise if I create it right --- and we have been criticized for going over the appointed time for the curriculum. This was explained in this meeting as not meant to limit how much time we take, but that we should make sure that "teaching and learning is taking place" if we do go over. There's concrete for you. Not.
Next time, best to bring and eat cookies.
21 March, 2009
20 March, 2009
Pour la premiere fois qui je vis, mon cour fait froid
For some reason, the angrier I get, the more French I remember. Most of what I know of languages is buried deep in the archives of my brain and taken out very rarely, usually just to define a word and not to speak it. On the way home yesterday, I found myself putting together the phrase above. For the first time in my life, my heart is cold.
My principal has taught me the greatest lesson about being an ATR: not only are you expendible, but anything you have been assigned is, at best, temporary. You fill a gap until you have done it well enough not to be there. Then you just sub again until something needs you.
Maybe this is a good way to live?
To expect nothing every day.
Now if a suggestion is made to me about what I should do, my response will be: je m'en moque!
I don't care. When I cared, my feelings seem to have been opposed. Perhaps if I do not indicate what I want, my luck will improve.
Je m'en moque!
My principal has taught me the greatest lesson about being an ATR: not only are you expendible, but anything you have been assigned is, at best, temporary. You fill a gap until you have done it well enough not to be there. Then you just sub again until something needs you.
Maybe this is a good way to live?
To expect nothing every day.
Now if a suggestion is made to me about what I should do, my response will be: je m'en moque!
I don't care. When I cared, my feelings seem to have been opposed. Perhaps if I do not indicate what I want, my luck will improve.
Je m'en moque!
16 March, 2009
Thought
There is no saint without a past and no sinner without a future. Praise everyone. If you cannot praise someone, let them out of your life.
Shri Babaji, 1984
Shri Babaji, 1984
Fear
I had written several postings that were critical of something to do with something but now I am afraid that my career will be reduced to nothing, so I'll send out that information privately.
Isn't fear grand?
Isn't fear grand?
10 March, 2009
The Jupiter Symphony
An astrologer friend told me that the past few days have been my "Jupiter Time" -- which is supposed to indicate good fortune, at the very least in friendships, I think. I was skeptical and things came late, but for the first time in years, I have finally got a collegial bond with members of the department in which I work. Some of it is shared perspectives on the new curriculum we teach, but a lot of it is very sweet, mutual respect. I'm especially lucky because I wouldn't have earned this by a long shot, but by accident of fate I ended up working with a small group of really good veteran teachers. BCNHS was a collective of such folks, but it's been a while since we were a unified group and, once it was announced that we were closing, people were sent to different schools on very short notice and our department dwindled to just one or two. Of course, my colleagues are experiencing THAT feeling -- the feeling of tremendous loss of a host of old friends. I'm in the unique position in which making a new friend makes some sense, although I still feel like a refugee from BCNHS. I don't feel like I work at Tilden, still, but I do work with these colleagues and I do understand a little more of the politics which they face. You see, we Aspies can be empathetic, we just are so through our brains and then our central nervous systems.
Anyway, it's just faintly glorious to have people whom I respect and am friendly with at work again.
Anyway, it's just faintly glorious to have people whom I respect and am friendly with at work again.
08 March, 2009
05 March, 2009
Progeny
It's impossible to completely understand me without a story...
Once upon a time there was a vivacious, astonishingly smart and funny woman in her thirties. She could climb mountains in four inch wedgie sandals and navigate her way through the Negev in French. My mother played the part of the dumb blond just up to the point at which she had men and women by the throat and then turned her wits on them as if she were tossing a ball and sweeping up all the jacks on the floor. That's the only way I can explain how we found French tourists in all parts of Israel because my mother spoke no Hebrew and her Yiddish wasn't sufficing, probably because it was handed down from my grandmother who had stopped being in the presence of other speakers of that language when she was about 14. English was my grandmother's best language, followed by Latin, Polish, a smattering of Yiddish and German. French still is my mother's strong suit. But, her body is now made of styrofoam peanuts instead of bones, as arthritis has shelled her skeleton. Long ago, her mind became riddled with paranoid schizophrenia and the odd remarks about what a person might be thinking gave way to full blown theories about "those who listen in the walls".
I've pretty much thought of my mother as deceased since she was 38 years old and woke up after electric shock treatments unable to remember that I had a tenth birthday party a year before. I don't know whether she ever recovered that, or other memories she lost. She became insufferable as quickly as she became incoherent, insisting that what she "heard" was gospel, that there were people coming to "clean" me (presumably of emotions from the context she gave) and that there were two or more versions of my uncle, one taller than the other. One night she was sitting in the bathroom and she called me over to tell me that she realized she was going to become overbearing and that I should run away. It was one of the few sane moments she had and I am always grateful for it, though it took me too long to take her advice.
My mother's face practically flexes -- her cheeks and her eyes wink in a forward and backward motion. It's a code she uses for "you're giving away a secret" or "how dare you cross that line." She accounts for everything she spends every day, making sure that she isn't missing any money. I've never understood that -- if you've lost a dollar, you've lost it. You can't get it back at two in the morning when you've realized it. Nights did extended tours in the apartment I grew up in and no one ever slept before 3am by the time I was in nineth grade. Occasionally, my mother would go to bed around 12:30 and I could start my homework then. Sometimes I could start earlier, but there would be the constant interruptions.
One interruption which drove me to overeat until I was numb was her violent rages about something she'd lost. A safety pin, a penny or a Monet earring and she would go on and on for hours -- at least four, but usually six and sometimes days. Endless screaming and ranting and twisting of the face. I used to put money in her purse so that would eliminate loss of money. She never questioned why she might be AHEAD a few dollars. If it was a thing I could replace, I would do it, but I was a kid and I didn't have the kind of resourcefulness to find "just the right store" until I was seventeen. You never could believe a person could talk about a thing so much. Any thing. Recently, I threw away a host of things from my mother's bedroom so she could manipulate her walker through it after surgery and because the hospital social worker insisted that, at least, one room be useable for physical therapy. As you might guess, my mother doesn't throw things away very often. Anyway, she sued me for 25,000 and we settled at 10,000. She had to know that doing this would mean I would NEVER speak with her again. It wasn't the money, but the fact that my mother would bring me to court, risk my job in doing it (and threaten to inform my job of things as she saw them which, these days could land me in the Rubber Room just for the excuse...the DOE will do anything to get rid of high salaried personnel.)
That my life meant nothing in the measure of her things...that ended it for us. I don't want to know when she dies or where she's buried. The threatening, malicious husk which inhabits her curved cadaver is of no interest to me.
Which is why except for my cats, my uncle and my friends, I don't guard anything. It makes me a bit difficult because when people lose things I don't really encourage them to get upset. Rather, I try to think of how it can be replaced and if its worth it. Sometimes, I replace it for them. It makes me happy to solve such a silly problem. I swore to myself at nine that no thing would ever mean that much to me. And luck and love have always kept me free from needing things although loss of people gets harder and harder on me.
Once upon a time there was a vivacious, astonishingly smart and funny woman in her thirties. She could climb mountains in four inch wedgie sandals and navigate her way through the Negev in French. My mother played the part of the dumb blond just up to the point at which she had men and women by the throat and then turned her wits on them as if she were tossing a ball and sweeping up all the jacks on the floor. That's the only way I can explain how we found French tourists in all parts of Israel because my mother spoke no Hebrew and her Yiddish wasn't sufficing, probably because it was handed down from my grandmother who had stopped being in the presence of other speakers of that language when she was about 14. English was my grandmother's best language, followed by Latin, Polish, a smattering of Yiddish and German. French still is my mother's strong suit. But, her body is now made of styrofoam peanuts instead of bones, as arthritis has shelled her skeleton. Long ago, her mind became riddled with paranoid schizophrenia and the odd remarks about what a person might be thinking gave way to full blown theories about "those who listen in the walls".
I've pretty much thought of my mother as deceased since she was 38 years old and woke up after electric shock treatments unable to remember that I had a tenth birthday party a year before. I don't know whether she ever recovered that, or other memories she lost. She became insufferable as quickly as she became incoherent, insisting that what she "heard" was gospel, that there were people coming to "clean" me (presumably of emotions from the context she gave) and that there were two or more versions of my uncle, one taller than the other. One night she was sitting in the bathroom and she called me over to tell me that she realized she was going to become overbearing and that I should run away. It was one of the few sane moments she had and I am always grateful for it, though it took me too long to take her advice.
My mother's face practically flexes -- her cheeks and her eyes wink in a forward and backward motion. It's a code she uses for "you're giving away a secret" or "how dare you cross that line." She accounts for everything she spends every day, making sure that she isn't missing any money. I've never understood that -- if you've lost a dollar, you've lost it. You can't get it back at two in the morning when you've realized it. Nights did extended tours in the apartment I grew up in and no one ever slept before 3am by the time I was in nineth grade. Occasionally, my mother would go to bed around 12:30 and I could start my homework then. Sometimes I could start earlier, but there would be the constant interruptions.
One interruption which drove me to overeat until I was numb was her violent rages about something she'd lost. A safety pin, a penny or a Monet earring and she would go on and on for hours -- at least four, but usually six and sometimes days. Endless screaming and ranting and twisting of the face. I used to put money in her purse so that would eliminate loss of money. She never questioned why she might be AHEAD a few dollars. If it was a thing I could replace, I would do it, but I was a kid and I didn't have the kind of resourcefulness to find "just the right store" until I was seventeen. You never could believe a person could talk about a thing so much. Any thing. Recently, I threw away a host of things from my mother's bedroom so she could manipulate her walker through it after surgery and because the hospital social worker insisted that, at least, one room be useable for physical therapy. As you might guess, my mother doesn't throw things away very often. Anyway, she sued me for 25,000 and we settled at 10,000. She had to know that doing this would mean I would NEVER speak with her again. It wasn't the money, but the fact that my mother would bring me to court, risk my job in doing it (and threaten to inform my job of things as she saw them which, these days could land me in the Rubber Room just for the excuse...the DOE will do anything to get rid of high salaried personnel.)
That my life meant nothing in the measure of her things...that ended it for us. I don't want to know when she dies or where she's buried. The threatening, malicious husk which inhabits her curved cadaver is of no interest to me.
Which is why except for my cats, my uncle and my friends, I don't guard anything. It makes me a bit difficult because when people lose things I don't really encourage them to get upset. Rather, I try to think of how it can be replaced and if its worth it. Sometimes, I replace it for them. It makes me happy to solve such a silly problem. I swore to myself at nine that no thing would ever mean that much to me. And luck and love have always kept me free from needing things although loss of people gets harder and harder on me.
04 March, 2009
Irreplaceable
The simplicity of my days and the way I wait for minutes until I have to leave for work, lose things time and time again, can't remember where I put things, all just point to who is missing, underscore the irreplaceable.
I've tried for months now to use the immersion of a new place and new resonances to reinvent myself and not shed the grief but embed it, be strengthened by it, and what has resulted is a preeminent weirdness. No one at Tilden quite knows my name.
I've tried for months now to use the immersion of a new place and new resonances to reinvent myself and not shed the grief but embed it, be strengthened by it, and what has resulted is a preeminent weirdness. No one at Tilden quite knows my name.
03 March, 2009
Loveless
This past week was like experiencing what someone might call, "twister" therapy. That is, if there was a school of analysis which believed in holding your feelings up to a funhouse mirror and watching you do everything you can not to look. There are periods of the day in which I have to ask permission to put my foot to the left or to the right. All I'm trying to do is walk somewhere rather than sit at my computer. I've had about as much "reflection in tranquility" as I can take. It's never good for grief to get my full attention, which it does when I am not thoroughly occupied.
On Wednesday, I was abruptly asked to dance, but not in any way I know how. When I team taught with Jonathan Levy, the reverence I felt came later -- I had no idea what I was doing until I was doing it. Now that I look back on myself I want to slap me. Traditionally, I fear people that I either
a) think are smarter than I am
b) think are better at something than I am
c) happen to be better looking than I am (and despite the weight, I don't concede that easily)
d) are absolutely on a different wavelength of accomplishment than I am. Have reached a place I won't ever begin to know.
I didn't know this about Jonathan until I'd already opened my mouth once. So, the precedent had been set.
Here I am in a similar position, but....I know. I really know that I'm superfluous, that I'm out-classed and that the purpose for my being in the classroom is really silly. I've been placed in a class to be a kind of mellow mediator. Some students like me and don't lash out at me quite the way others do. That doesn't make me a good teacher. I have the kind of face that is very hard for people to get angry with, and the wild eyes of John Belushi. It's an accident of fate that some kids who are nasty ease up around me.
And I give in, a lot. I'm playful in the worst comedic style. Sometimes it works. Twice last week, it didn't. So, not only was I superfluous, but not even that.
A friend told me I should be happy to be put to use at all, and I agree. There's an enormous amount I have to learn, so it would be fantastic if I could actually grow in this process. What I fear is that I will be trying so hard to be able to help that I will make things worse. I think that has already happened.
I feel a combination of embarassment and fear even trying to talk to my colleague about the lessons of the week. It's not my place, yet it's where I am.
And I am desperate to love -- and the connection with the students isn't there. For whatever reason, the curriculum which we are using doesn't give me room to engage them the way I am used to doing. Just having to teach anything I didn't choose alienates me. I'm not personally connected and I don't believe in it. It's not much of a point of connection to my colleague either. We're both following a system, she far better than I. It's like being assigned to work with the late John Dexter but on a project in which he has little input and in a language in which you are not fluent. What do you do but follow, wait and watch. I try to think ahead, but all I can really do is outline what I think is going on. I feel as if the curriculum I am using is in Latin. I took Latin and was passable, but can't do anything without a dictionary and lots of time.
Teaching has always been the one area in which I plan and yet am allowed to be spontaneous -- to create mid-sentence. To create with my students. To help them to create and to present their ideas. There's nobody in this curriculum. It fosters independence, but it doesn't, as far as I can see, bring the group together. I've spent my whole career pulling groups together. Teaching students to be part of something and be themselves. From my experience, they are very good at isolating themselves on their own. If they do independent reading in my room, why not just go home?
For that matter, if I am not going to be supportive muscle for my colleague, but rather a distraction, I'd sooner not be there. Especially when its someone whose work is meticulous, I cannot stomach the sloppiness of my indecision. There's no mark for me to hit. I am literally grasping at the air. You think I'm much of a calming influence in this state? No.
It only worked once when my colleague had set up several marks to hit because the students were behind. So I was free to work within the framework she created. When I tried to lead the lesson myself, I blew up faster than anything I have ever seen. I was overwhelmed. I had no mark.
All of this creates a feeling of lovelessness. When I have no good to give, I despise myself. And I wish to be despised. I made a jackass of myself in a meeting because I didn't want to be liked anymore. There is nothing laudable about me. In my mind, that makes me unworthy in all respects.
On Wednesday, I was abruptly asked to dance, but not in any way I know how. When I team taught with Jonathan Levy, the reverence I felt came later -- I had no idea what I was doing until I was doing it. Now that I look back on myself I want to slap me. Traditionally, I fear people that I either
a) think are smarter than I am
b) think are better at something than I am
c) happen to be better looking than I am (and despite the weight, I don't concede that easily)
d) are absolutely on a different wavelength of accomplishment than I am. Have reached a place I won't ever begin to know.
I didn't know this about Jonathan until I'd already opened my mouth once. So, the precedent had been set.
Here I am in a similar position, but....I know. I really know that I'm superfluous, that I'm out-classed and that the purpose for my being in the classroom is really silly. I've been placed in a class to be a kind of mellow mediator. Some students like me and don't lash out at me quite the way others do. That doesn't make me a good teacher. I have the kind of face that is very hard for people to get angry with, and the wild eyes of John Belushi. It's an accident of fate that some kids who are nasty ease up around me.
And I give in, a lot. I'm playful in the worst comedic style. Sometimes it works. Twice last week, it didn't. So, not only was I superfluous, but not even that.
A friend told me I should be happy to be put to use at all, and I agree. There's an enormous amount I have to learn, so it would be fantastic if I could actually grow in this process. What I fear is that I will be trying so hard to be able to help that I will make things worse. I think that has already happened.
I feel a combination of embarassment and fear even trying to talk to my colleague about the lessons of the week. It's not my place, yet it's where I am.
And I am desperate to love -- and the connection with the students isn't there. For whatever reason, the curriculum which we are using doesn't give me room to engage them the way I am used to doing. Just having to teach anything I didn't choose alienates me. I'm not personally connected and I don't believe in it. It's not much of a point of connection to my colleague either. We're both following a system, she far better than I. It's like being assigned to work with the late John Dexter but on a project in which he has little input and in a language in which you are not fluent. What do you do but follow, wait and watch. I try to think ahead, but all I can really do is outline what I think is going on. I feel as if the curriculum I am using is in Latin. I took Latin and was passable, but can't do anything without a dictionary and lots of time.
Teaching has always been the one area in which I plan and yet am allowed to be spontaneous -- to create mid-sentence. To create with my students. To help them to create and to present their ideas. There's nobody in this curriculum. It fosters independence, but it doesn't, as far as I can see, bring the group together. I've spent my whole career pulling groups together. Teaching students to be part of something and be themselves. From my experience, they are very good at isolating themselves on their own. If they do independent reading in my room, why not just go home?
For that matter, if I am not going to be supportive muscle for my colleague, but rather a distraction, I'd sooner not be there. Especially when its someone whose work is meticulous, I cannot stomach the sloppiness of my indecision. There's no mark for me to hit. I am literally grasping at the air. You think I'm much of a calming influence in this state? No.
It only worked once when my colleague had set up several marks to hit because the students were behind. So I was free to work within the framework she created. When I tried to lead the lesson myself, I blew up faster than anything I have ever seen. I was overwhelmed. I had no mark.
All of this creates a feeling of lovelessness. When I have no good to give, I despise myself. And I wish to be despised. I made a jackass of myself in a meeting because I didn't want to be liked anymore. There is nothing laudable about me. In my mind, that makes me unworthy in all respects.
01 March, 2009
Where your money is going
Would you spend of dollars on computer systems which allow teachers to share information when
1) Webspace is free and lessons could be posted by teachers themselves
2) Teachers could meet and share ideas for a lot less money
Here's the latest press release. According to Bloomberg, et al, our share of the stimulus package
...includes $650 million to provide funds to school districts that have made significant gains in closing the achievement gap to expand their work and to document and share their successful practices. These funds could help further implementation of the New York City Department of Education’s (DOE) computer system that allows teachers to share effective instructional strategies between schools.
650 Million to document and share? I want to know EXACTLY what we're documenting and how and why. Why can't teachers get blogspot addresses and the DOE direct other teachers to those addresses. We need MILLIONS of dollars to document? Are we talking about hiring film directors to shoot videos? You can buy a 99 dollar cheap video camera and have a teacher and students talk into it. I've seen those cameras used to film lessons.
650 Million dollars. I want a receipt.
Is there a law saying we can't buy equipment at B &H? Are these PENTAGON PRICES?
THIS is how Bloomberg LOST OUR MONEY.
1) Webspace is free and lessons could be posted by teachers themselves
2) Teachers could meet and share ideas for a lot less money
Here's the latest press release. According to Bloomberg, et al, our share of the stimulus package
...includes $650 million to provide funds to school districts that have made significant gains in closing the achievement gap to expand their work and to document and share their successful practices. These funds could help further implementation of the New York City Department of Education’s (DOE) computer system that allows teachers to share effective instructional strategies between schools.
650 Million to document and share? I want to know EXACTLY what we're documenting and how and why. Why can't teachers get blogspot addresses and the DOE direct other teachers to those addresses. We need MILLIONS of dollars to document? Are we talking about hiring film directors to shoot videos? You can buy a 99 dollar cheap video camera and have a teacher and students talk into it. I've seen those cameras used to film lessons.
650 Million dollars. I want a receipt.
Is there a law saying we can't buy equipment at B &H? Are these PENTAGON PRICES?
THIS is how Bloomberg LOST OUR MONEY.
Still BCNHS
Somehow, when you're an ATR at a school, you don't really feel part of it, and I very much feel as if I should remember that I am just a visitor on Planet Tilden. I made the mistake this week of getting very vocal, very vulnerable, and just generally too brash. People don't know me well enough and don't need to as they are concluding a story through which I am just a footnote.
So, I apologize for beginning to get comfortable when I have no right to be. I would feel angry if someone tried to know BCNHS from it's last two years.
So, the last place in which I taught was BCNHS. I'm a guest at Tilden. Not faculty. Just an accidental tourist.
So, I apologize for beginning to get comfortable when I have no right to be. I would feel angry if someone tried to know BCNHS from it's last two years.
So, the last place in which I taught was BCNHS. I'm a guest at Tilden. Not faculty. Just an accidental tourist.
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