Wing and a Prayer

What I love about this gig is that I can do what I love most: design and create a curriculum. From "scratch" almost. Of course, I have the state curriculum guidelines, but this group of kids... their range and experience makes the word "differentiated" an instructional challenge.

I have spent hours and hours and hours researching dramatic duets that are at their reading level, of high interest and yet, still appropriate for their age. Then, in order to be efficient with my classroom time and management, have tried to study the rosters of kids I've know for barely three weeks to pair them. It's a rough sketch... it will change once I'm sitting in front of them, of course... but some structure needed to be put into place to put an effort into efficiency. Those who don't speak English or have challenges that completely inhibit them from reading/speaking will be the pairs' "directors".

Just now, I had the crazy idea to take Romeo and Juliet's balcony scene and the fight scene and break it down (not change words)... just edit/whittle... and create six opportunities for pairs to try. Not all of the pairs will be offered these Shakespeare scenes.  I'm seriously throwing this out there to see what works. They have been singing Sonnet 18 for three weeks... it's not completely out of context...

but it may be beyond their reach and so what? Even if they merely stumble over the words... exposure. Perhaps it will be a shining moment. If it begins to be too frustrating by mid-week, we'll switch gears and grab another duet.

I'm off to buy plastic swords. That should entice the boys. I hope.

Befuddled

Middle school kids definitely confuse me. Today, after teaching (and participating) in dramatic play on the black top to demonstrate stage directions, the kids said, "You should be the phys ed teacher, Ms. Beck". I laughed, "I am the least athletic person in the world." Their response? "But you always play with us... phys ed teachers just direct us. They never actually play with us".

I raised an eyebrow and said, "But I'm an English teacher, you guys. I teach English."

That confused them. "English teacher? What do you mean, you're an English teacher?"

Drama/theater/public speaking... that's the curriculum I'm teaching this year. I've sung Shakespeare's Sonnet 18 with them every single solitary day for the past three weeks in order memorize it. And yet, they don't connect that my class is merely a concentrated aspect of the language arts curriculum. Weird... and what? I guess they've just never been introduced to William Shakespeare yet. They don't have a context in which to refer in order to understand my pedagogy.

Another confusing scenario from this week... I zig left. They zag right. When I have the kids up on their feet doing interactive, engaging activities (kinesthetic learning)... they act like fools. So, this afternoon (in exhaustion, I must confess)... I decided my last two classes would do silent seat work. Their task? After I taught the parts of a stage, I gave them a blank template and colored pencils to create and draw their own set designs. Absolute silence. Concentrated energy. After about ten minutes of just staring at them (I was too tired to even go to my computer to work. I just sat at the front table and stared into space)... I got up to walk around to check their progress.

Kids who can barely read and write... were drawing the most beautiful set designs. Creative. Inventive. Beautifully executed. I was blown away. Absolutely stunned.

Maybe I should switch gears and become an art teacher.

However, I feel blessed... I can use phys ed and art and music and  literature within the Speech and Drama classroom. Not a bad gig at all.

Strangers Stopping Strangers

... just to shake their hands. That was the first lesson I taught my pickles this first quarter of Speech and Drama. That's right. The fine art of a firm handshake, direct eye contact and learning one of three phrases to master: "Nice to meet you"; "Nice to see you"; and of course, "How do you do?" with the appropriate response.

Not because my students don't have class... oh, they have class. They operate with dignity and respect within their own spheres. What don't know how to express it. The words, customs and phrases they lack is what teach. The same phrases/behaviors I taught my own son. Because the reality is: good manners will take you everywhere. First impressions count. Meeting one's eye and a firm handshake imply your ability to succeed and conduct your sophistication in "polite" society. Not that it is superior to other forms of greeting. Every culture has its own customs of greeting. However, there are socio-economic disparities in every culture in every culture and the upper eulachon of those said cultures all share common etiquette. Those are the skills I strive to impart upon my darling pickles for the most easily attainable behaviors that will, after practice will become rote.

Every morning, I stand hall-duty near the breakfast line. I have always expressed how much I love "duty"... especially morning duty since I am an early-teacher vs. an afternoon-teacher. Whenever one of my pickles approaches, I extend my hand for that shake/greeting and they already respond in kind. What a wonderful way to launch the day. Perfect instructional strategy of repetition breeds mastery without tedium of rote recitation.

And... it just makes my whole day to greet them. They inspire me every moment of every day.

No Rest for the Weary

After an arduous start to the school year (while also launching my son in a new school), you would think I would have taken the weekend off. Alas, that is just not my nature, I'm afraid. In Friday's meetings, I learned a lot of new information about my pickles, so I spent that afternoon and evening brainstorming to revamp my lesson plans to better serve them. I was delighted by facebook "team building" with my new colleagues that punctuated my work with laughter and shared jokes. I swear, this is the most cool group of teachers with whom I have ever taught. Really cool, down-to-earth, funny people. I'm so grateful

Saturday was met with domestic chores... vacuuming, bathroom scrubbing before I took my son shopping for more school clothes and good (albeit matronly and not-very-cute shoes) for my aching feet. I don't think I  sat down one time during the first two weeks of school. Well, okay, once. When I was so frustrated with a class that instead of saying, "I cannot believe I'm actually begging you to let me teach." Instead, I bit my tongue and simply sat down. The class went immediately silent. They had yet to ever see me sit. After about three minutes of silent contemplation, patience (and prayer), I got back up and jumped back into instruction. So, ya... ugly, good-support shoes are going to be a saving grace for me in the upcoming weeks. And to think... I'm such a diva, I used to actually teach in high heels "back in the day". sigh. These days, I can barely wear my cute flats.

Today, I shopped for groceries (after planning the week's meals) and for more school supplies. I ran endless loads of laundry and organized my domestic world as best as I could to make this working mom gig run more smoothly for next week.

In between, I stole a few restorative moments. My son and I had lunch at a restaurant before shopping. And he was so nice all day (of course he was... he was getting new clothes!). My husband and I spent Saturday evening together at the pond, tiki torches and candles cast a lovely glow and I finally relaxed. Today, I watched "Louder Than A Bomb" for inspiration before I stole a forty minute nap after I got a pedicure. Again... my poor feet.

And now... that Sunday dinner has been served, dishes washed, my lunch for tomorrow packed, my car loaded with all of the supplies for my classroom, I can sit back and contemplate.

I heard a funny quote last week: "Teaching is a nine-month-long sprint". Indeed. It also happens to be the only career that completely contains my brain. And for that, I am grateful.

Sprinting in my ugly shoes is exactly what I am delighted to do.

Baby Steps

At the end of the day, when I am exhausted and overwhelmed... I must reflect over the amount of content my classes have covered in a mere seven days of instruction. It's amazing. Head-spinning, but inspiring. Yes, I hit the ground running and these pickles have run just as hard. For the most part. Of course, there are some classes I still haven't "reached". But, the trick to teaching is to focus on the classes that are succeeding and dig deeper to reach those who just haven't yet gotten there. Most importantly? To believe that I will... I will reach every student who graces my classroom.

Teaching is hustling if you do it well. Reflecting over what worked and what didn't work is key. Dynamic lesson planning is integral to meeting each and every student's needs. Because Speech and Drama is a somewhat new content for me, I spend every "free" moment researching, reading, brainstorming. Could I be any luckier? This is a dream for an academic.

Balancing academics and "fun" is a struggle for me right now. I know the kids just want to have fun. I mean, this is their elective. I get it. So, there is little to no homework... but there is a lot of class work. When the pickles return on Monday... they are going to give their very first speeches. It took a lot of instruction (teacher lead) to reach this point where they will "perform" (student lead). I just know that it will all be worth it after the students feel the success of overcoming their fears, anxieties and insecurities in presenting public speeches. Empowering.

So, when a student who could barely pick up his head and mumbled everything actually smiles now and will be able to present his speech: that is a win. When another student apologized for his behavior in class and I reminded him every day is a clean slate: win. When a student actually spoke above a whisper: win.

The key is to focus on the successes and not the struggles. Counting blessings instead of listing grievances.

Label Me

When I accepted this position at this school, a teacher friend of mine begged me not to. "You will always be perceived as a 'bad' teacher if you go there. You will be labeled".

If that's true... so be it. Label me. As the teacher who makes a difference. The teacher who takes on the "worst" schools with dignity and pride. The teacher who digs in and teaches with lovingkindness to children who so so need GOOD teachers.

And I am... a good teacher. Actually, I won't even be modest. I am gifted and talented at my craft. The reality is... at those "utopia" schools, whomever teaches those students won't really make a difference. Those children will succeed regardless of who their teachers are because they have strong family and community and economic support.

My students do not have that. They deserve the BEST teachers. If we are going to change our country... we must do it from the ground up. I have never been one to voice my political views on social media or talk talk talk. Instead, I walk the walk. Over the course of twenty years, I have served the most needy children in Ohio and Kentucky. Children who have very little privilege. Children in poverty. Children in the foster care system. Children who are struggling.

For the one hour a day they are in my classroom, I give them everything I have to give. I never once lower my academic standards or my expectations for their success. Ask them to RISE and they will. Devote every waking moment to researching, writing, creating lesson plans and then being dynamic to reflect over what worked and what didn't to better serve them is what I do best.

It is my honor and privilege to serve this school. Label me the teacher who cares. The teacher who overcomes obstacles and barriers my students suffer to educate them. I teach them how to shake hands properly and make eye contact. How to say, "Nice to meet you." How to raise their hands in class. Then... I teach them the most beautiful poetry Shakespeare offers. Ask them to stand in front of class and learn how to give public speeches. Direct them to embrace dramatic monologues and act them out. Through the process, empower them to be productive members of society.

Because they deserve nothing but the best.

Keep Your Head Up

Okay... what in the what what? I am struggling! Seriously! And really? Okay, so I have this seventh grade class that just. hasn't. bought. in. I mean... really hasn't "bought in" and I'm perplexed. I haven't met a jar of pickles that hasn't loved me as much as I loved them. What did I do wrong? What haven't I done? Most importantly... what do I need to do?

So... first strategy of attack. I called every single parent in the class yesterday afternoon. One of those, "Just wanted to reach out and introduce myself since I'm new to school. Your child is an absolute joy and I'm so delighted to have them in class this quarter". Phase One.

Phase Two: plan "Fun Friday". Instead of hammering hard... I'm going to play into their strengths. They want to tap a beat? Drive me crazy by tap tap tapping with their pens on the desk while I'm lecturing? Okay... time to unleash Shakespeare Sonnet 18. I already copied the poem in text. I've got the music. We will read it. Listen to it. Sing it. Then, I will group them up. They can turn it into a rap. Translate it into Spanish. Act it out. Go crazy!

But first... my secret weapon? Good old Tupac. And thank God for him. These pickles are already dazzled by the photo of him I have on my collage wall. They exclaimed, "Oooh! Is that Tupac? I love Tupac!" Ooooh, child... you weren't even born before he died.

But I was. I was alive when he was alive. I was introduced to his poetry by my very first pickles and it's time to unleash my secret weapon. "Keep Your Head Up". 'cuz that's what I'm gonna do. That's what I'm going to inspire them to do. We are all gonna keep our heads up.

Phase Three... I'm going to go to the computer, take attendance and pretend that the song "magically" popped up. On those fabulous speakers I have that BLASTS music like nobody's business.

Then, Ms. Beck is gonna show her skills. I'm going to sing sing sing. Dance dance dance. We're gonna Tupacalypse Now. Share the love. Become inspired.

Then... we're gonna show Shakespeare who's boss.

Or perhaps remind them...

I'm the boss.

Regroup

Okay, time to "take stock". The first two classes rolled without a hitch. I'm on pace with them and will continue. The next two classes went fairly well. I know what direction we're heading. It's the last two classes that flummoxed me. Unexpected events occurred. The last bell, I didn't realize it would take all bell to organize the bus dismissal procedures/paper work, so I didn't have "seat work" for the students to be contained, so of course... chaos ensued. Not the way to start a first day/set a first impression.

Last night, I came home depleted. Exhausted. Demoralized. Mentally, I listed my "options". Of course, it helped that I didn't have a voice. I strained my voice by talk talk talking too much. So, in silence, I stewed. And really, that is better. I think "venting" sometimes makes it worse. Sometimes, silence is best. What I focus on, expands. Best to focus on what worked vs. what didn't work.

This morning, I woke up and wrote in my journal to think. Then, I got to work. Looking at the notes I took at the end of my classes, I regrouped. Created a new document to differentiate instruction. Printed the document and "chunked" the material in more easily digestible parts. We will get through the material. I will not lower my expectations and standards. I just need to do what I did with my son when he was a baby learning to eat... start more slowly. Drench it in Ranch dressing and "trick" him into eating. Of course, this is a metaphor. But, the idea behind it is the same.

Equity/ not equality. That was a lesson we learned in PD. I just didn't realize what it meant until yesterday. I will place support after support after support in place. I will dig even deeper to get there. I will allow my students to grow and develop with my lovingkindness. I will figure this out. I have to.

My students are shining stars that deserve the best from me.

First Day of School!

And I'm ready to roll! To curb my anxiety, I remind myself... this is the day all of my hard work and determination will pay off. I'm going to float with students! Chaos, confusion, fear... all the feelings my students will be experiencing and it's my job to lead. With grace and dignity.

So, when I answered a colleague's question of whether I had taught Drama before with "no".... I have to remind myself: YES I have! What was I thinking? Drama is part of the English classroom. I've also taught Arts and Humanities for years. Drama was a huge component of that curriculum. Finally... I'm the story-teller teacher. Drama is nothing more than produced story-telling. I've got this!

And weird... today marks my twenty year anniversary of the first time I walked into a public school classroom. Twenty years ago? Doesn't seem possible, but it's true. This will mark my ninth year of public school teaching over the course of twenty years. In between, I've been a professor of English, a writing instructor for workshops and a long-term sub. Teaching is like breathing at this point. I just need to remember to launch on my stories and all will be well.

Of course, I overly prepared. If I move through my first unit in the time I've allotted, it will be a miracle. I practice dynamic teaching. Not everything is set in stone (well, it is on the long-range plan document I was asked to submit), but I know what every experienced teacher knows. Learn your kids' interests and levels and work from there. Even last night, I was jotting down notes and ideas for today's lessons. What do I love to do more than anything else? Research, write, create lessons and implement them. So, reminding myself to not get ahead of myself is key.

Focus on the task. Stay in the moment. Enjoy the ride. What a long, strange trip it's been. I'm just so grateful I got here. Today! Today! First Day of School: hooray!

Balance

As I hustle to launch back into my career in teaching, I feel like I'm neglecting my son. Of course, that's to be expected. I'm simply not physically in the house as much as I was. His school begins a week after my school begins. Because he's fourteen, I didn't have to arrange elaborate daycare plans. But, the long days last week and the beginning of this crept up on me. I should have planned better.

So, imagine how grateful I was to receive the email last night that he will be at golf tournaments the next three days. Okay... at least, I did something right. I got him involved in golf. I reached out to a school mommy and arranged for my son and hers to get together on Friday at the pool. I emailed the organization where my son will be volunteering and asked if he could spend a few hours there next week to get started. Check. check. check.

My teaching career has suffered neglect in my life. When I got pregnant, my husband and I moved to another state and I resigned my career in my favorite high school. I stayed home with my son until he was three. Turning my back on my teaching career was not hard for those years. But, oh! was I excited to return to teaching when my baby turned three and was old enough for Montessori school. The thrill I felt the first morning I drove to school. Freedom! Teaching! However, I had a hard time balancing then. I remember when his teacher called after the first few weeks and said, "Aren't you at all concerned about your child's progress/transition in class?" Of course I was, lady! Because my husband took our son to school and I picked him up in the afternoons, I primarily met with the afternoon teacher. I didn't mean to neglect the morning teacher. I had to hustle to achieve balance.

Five years later, I had to resign my career in teaching again. For six years, I've been home. I definitely felt the pain of neglecting my teaching career. Of course, I taught writing workshops and launched my writing career... but, that's nothing compared to committing to a public school life. This transition is definitely difficult. I want to be completely present at school. I want to be responsible to my family. The typical working-mom struggle. Both sides of my world require intense organization and preparation. My brain is overwhelmed. I write lists for home when I'm at school. I write lists for school when I'm at home.

And finally... there's one other baby that is being neglected. My writing. I wonder, though. If Facebook existed when Trollope was alive, would he have written his novels? I think not. My mornings are better served writing (at least these little essays if nothing else) than scrolling through the interwebs.

Eventually, though... I believe I will strike a balance. I'm certainly not the only mother in the world to do so.

Staff Community

In any school, it's the staff that makes the difference. I have never felt as welcomed in a school as I have in this school. The teacher with whom I did home visits is one of the most kind, considerate and positive people. She texts me to "check up" on me. My first team meeting, one of the teachers approached me to share that nine years ago, he observed me during his teacher-training. When moving the previous teacher's stuff from my room so I could move in, the entire team jumped in to help. This team is also organizing a getting-to-know-you potluck picnic next weekend. For once, I'm not dreading a work event. I'm already planning a recipe.

The administration is incredible, too. Professional, caring, dedicated. I am honored to serve with this staff. I have to confess... it's a dramatic change from the previous two schools I substitute taught this past year. What a long, isolated year it was, really. I felt like an outsider (which I was). I ate lunch alone. Except for a few kind people, no one came in to "check in" with me. Administration ignored me. I never felt part of their school communities. I guess it makes sense that I didn't land a position with either of those schools this year. I'm where I'm meant to be. And welcomed with open arms.

This dynamic supports welcoming our students with the same generosity of spirit. I can't wait until next week to swing open my door (and my heart) to a new group of pickles.

Love this double-entendre. Indeed, this staff has class.

To Da Roots

The universe has a way of speaking, doesn't it? Right now, I am in the process of accepting that I am intended to serve the same students I've always served in my teaching career. And I'm grateful. But what an ordeal. I know the best teachers need to be at the perceived "worst" schools... but this... this... I did not anticipate. Not. One. Bit. And, what's more weird? I'm excited. Inspired. Determined.

I accepted a position in a school whose students I am honored to serve. Not the "utopia" school. Back to my roots... and even deeper. I have the honor of continuing my life's work to serve in a school I believe in with a staff that is beyond-supportive, doing home visits and caring for children to whom I have always been drawn. (good grammar/bad writing)

See, I have this thing about "environment". I truly believe that the room and its "vibe" sets the tone for expectations and behaviors. So, when presented with the opportunity to teach in a classroom with no windows; no white boards; no bulletin boards; stinky, scratched up walls filled with the previous teacher's stuff in boxes everywhere... I freaked out.

Even the furniture is not what will eventually be there... and there's less than six days until my pickles walk into my room. The large, windowless, rectangular room is filled with outdated "computer lab" furniture that is "ordered" to be replaced with tables and chairs. The previous teacher's boxes stacked wide and hide throughout the space. No teacher desk. No computer. No windows (repetition intentional). And again... did I say there were no windows?

Miraculously, I have been graced. A dear friend posted help for me and my community responded beyond my wildest expectations. A teacher's desk, a massive white board, old windows, a custom-built stage were offered. My head is spinning and my eyes are full of tears. Could I be any luckier? I helped the previous teacher move her stuff out. My team swarmed in and helped. My principal showed up to assess and lend support.

If this is my task: let me serve it well. Because before and beyond all else.. I am serving children. In need.

And that is my task.