Oh, and because of a shortage of substitute teachers, four of the eleven teachers who showed up at the district office this morning were sent right back to their classrooms, so fewer of us got to do the same work in (virtually) the same time. Our school's contingent was missing two teachers, and we had to put in an hour of overtime (we're salaried, but we'll get 1.0 hr or our divided-up-into-hourly-rate pay. Having the two other teachers would have let us finish on time.
I spent three hours designing a two-day, self-contained lesson, including detailed instruction sheets for students, pre-chosen small-group seating charts, and question handouts with page number references, When I got to the DO, I learned that tomorrow's scheduled work-day had been postponed because of substitute teacher shortages. It's been rescheduled for two weeks from now.
Tomorrow, I'll be subbing for myself: I've committed my classes to a two-day lesson, and I have to go through with it: my students did half of a mini-project today, and it needs another day to complete. So much for my planning. They wouldn't have done the mini-project had I not been gone.
Of course, two weeks from now, I'll have to design another lesson plan to cover that second day away from my classroom.
On the bright side, my students are always glad to see me when I return from being absent. We're a team, they and I.
Our district pays substitutes less that the surrounding districts, by a wide margin. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out how to enlarge the substitute pool enough to cover our actual needs, does it? Why don't we try something like becoming competitive?
Even bureaucracies can't consistently escape market forces.
While they're at it, someone should draw a ten-mile radius circle around our school district, and check out teacher salaries. Our district is an embarrassment, and our turnover rate of good teachers leaving for higher-paying positions with similar commute times is high.
Thursday, May 31, 2007
Speak of the Devil, and the Devil Appears
Today I was out of my classroom, at the district office, scoring the Quarter Writing Prompt— the on-demand essay that students write so that the district can gauge improvement in writing. Or, that's the official reason.
Anyway, I was to be gone two days, so designed a lesson plan that kept my students productive, but was easy for a substitute to administer, no easy feat (see my earlier post, Eeiny Meeiny, Miney Mo, for my take on substitute teachers).
When I announced to my classes that I'd be gone a couple of days, they naturally asked me if I knew who the substitute teacher was going to be (which I didn't), and of course, offered stories about other "subs" who remained in their memory. They mentioned one whom they described to me as, well, a doofus. A mouth-breather. They offered anecdotes of horror about what he'd done in other classes. Much of it revolved around personal hygeine. From their stories, I divined that they had no respect for him.
Guess who walks in my door this morning? Mr. Doofus.
Well, my lesson plan was pretty fool-proof (no pun intended): all it required was the ability to take roll, read a few instructions to the class, and have enough of a presence to keep kids quiet enough for the class to be productive. He even had the power of marking stinkers on the seating chart for decapitation later. Not much more needed than an opposing thumb, really. But still I worrried.
I rushed back on campus after school to discover that the room wasn't thrashed. Most of the work was done (sophomores seem to have accomplished more than juniors). and nothing was missing or had been broken. Not bad, actually. I was relieved.
He didn't leave much of a note for me, and there were no "off-task" marks on the seating chart. I can't believe that every kid was so sobered by my detention threats left on the board that no one had to "get a check." So I'm sure some kids got away with something, and even if I enlist mysquealers informants, I won't be able to punish anyone on just that testimony. I'll be limited to "I heard you misbehaved," in an I'm-just letting-you-know-that-I-know-what-you-did way, to take half the joy out of their self-satisfied "I got away with it!" smirking. It's the least (and apparently, the most) I can do.
So Mr. Doofus turned in a lukewarm performance, and earns a C+ or so. Randy gives him props, Dawg; Paula tells him to keep his dream alive; Simon, with arms crossed, thinks he's simply awful. Not terribly bad; but I'll never request him (he did leave a sticker with his name on it for my future consideration. Sorry, Bub: you're notsadistic firm enough to do it the way I want it done.
Another teacher told me that he spent the 30–minute lunch period asleep, or at least head down, at my desk. But that's his time.
I should have locked my desk.
Anyway, I was to be gone two days, so designed a lesson plan that kept my students productive, but was easy for a substitute to administer, no easy feat (see my earlier post, Eeiny Meeiny, Miney Mo, for my take on substitute teachers).
When I announced to my classes that I'd be gone a couple of days, they naturally asked me if I knew who the substitute teacher was going to be (which I didn't), and of course, offered stories about other "subs" who remained in their memory. They mentioned one whom they described to me as, well, a doofus. A mouth-breather. They offered anecdotes of horror about what he'd done in other classes. Much of it revolved around personal hygeine. From their stories, I divined that they had no respect for him.
Guess who walks in my door this morning? Mr. Doofus.
Well, my lesson plan was pretty fool-proof (no pun intended): all it required was the ability to take roll, read a few instructions to the class, and have enough of a presence to keep kids quiet enough for the class to be productive. He even had the power of marking stinkers on the seating chart for decapitation later. Not much more needed than an opposing thumb, really. But still I worrried.
I rushed back on campus after school to discover that the room wasn't thrashed. Most of the work was done (sophomores seem to have accomplished more than juniors). and nothing was missing or had been broken. Not bad, actually. I was relieved.
He didn't leave much of a note for me, and there were no "off-task" marks on the seating chart. I can't believe that every kid was so sobered by my detention threats left on the board that no one had to "get a check." So I'm sure some kids got away with something, and even if I enlist my
So Mr. Doofus turned in a lukewarm performance, and earns a C+ or so. Randy gives him props, Dawg; Paula tells him to keep his dream alive; Simon, with arms crossed, thinks he's simply awful. Not terribly bad; but I'll never request him (he did leave a sticker with his name on it for my future consideration. Sorry, Bub: you're not
Another teacher told me that he spent the 30–minute lunch period asleep, or at least head down, at my desk. But that's his time.
I should have locked my desk.
Sunday, May 20, 2007
Now There's an Idea
Saw this on another blog, and thought, "If only they made them in high school size…"
Thursday, May 17, 2007
Take Off Your Shoes, Moses: You Are On Holy Ground
In case you're wondering, here are my brilliant Ten Commandments for New Teachers that I carved onto two stone tablets with my own finger. Many teachers enter the profession as really nice people who care about young people, and will have the same basic problem I did when I started: I was way too nice, and because of that, not as effective as I could have been.
So read with that in mind, and remember, it's supposed to be humorous, so no hate mail, please.
Coulter’s Ten Commandments for Classroom Management (new & improved: now with 10% more commandment)
I. Your agenda is not their agenda. Your agenda must prevail.
You love your subject matter and assume that they will, too, but the last class you took was at a university you were paying good money to attend, and your goals were pretty much the same as your professor’s. Your students do not share this worldview. They want freedom, don’t value your efforts to educate them, and want to avoid work at every turn. You are not leading the Von Trapp family on a singing holiday in the Austrian Alps.
II. Have a battle plan.
Students are like any opportunistic predator: they constantly test for weakenss to exploit. If they smell blood in the water, they close ranks and come in for the kill. They’ll even eat their own. A moment’s indecision here, fumbling around looking for your handouts there, and you’re immediately playing defense. The Alpha Dog, by definition, doesn’t play defense. So,
III. Hit first, and hit hard (idle hands are the Devil’s tools).
You set the tone from the first day, and you teach them how to treat you from the first day by verbal and non-verbal communication: always start at the bell; have something for them to begin immediately: journal topic, warm-up math problems on the board, anything, while you take attendance; always have a task ready at hand in case you’ve under-planned and they finish early. “Free time” is insidious.
IV. Make examples of the first offenders.
Students watch the way you handle the first disruptors to get an idea of what might happen to them if they make trouble. Stop to discipline the first few trespassers immediately, or you teach everyone that you will tolerate it.
V. Practice the magic word: “No.”
Try it, and watch. They won’t die. You have to apply limits to them: they certainly won’t apply limits to themselves. They have an endless stream of requests and personal crises: take them one at a time, at your pace, make the others wait until you get to them. Don’t let them waste big chunks of class time asking you things they could ask you at the end of the period on their way out.
VI. It’s your class, not theirs.
Your job is to bring Order to Chaos. Only then will you have cleared an area in which learning can take place. Don’t be afraid to enforce your will upon them. They’re used to it, and will easily adapt to the structure you build.
VII. Tell students what you want them to do, not what you don’t want them to do.
Teenagers have selective hearing. They’re distracted, and not really listening to you. Negative commands result in confusion. If you say “Don’t put your name on your paper,” three kids will do it anyway, one will ask “Did you say to put our names on our papers?” and you will have to repeat yourself, probably more than once. You’re now managing Chaos, instead of creating Order.
VIII. Choose your battles.
You can’t expend your energy making a big deal of every small infraction of your class rules. If making sure kids don’t slouch in their desks is a huge deal to you, fine; otherwise, save your powder for important battles, like ?
IX. Ignore 85% of what they say.
The so-called adolescent “mind” is an entertaining circus of impressions and half-thoughts interrupted by other impressions and quarter-thoughts, fired by hormonal fluctuations, echoing bits of song lyrics and the students’ own basic insecurities. They verbalize many thoughts that don’t relate to anything. If you respond to, or even listen to, everything they say, you will accomplish nothing in a period, and go slowly insane for your trouble. Learn to tune the static out, and pick up on key words that indicate an intelligent question or pertinent statement is being made.
X. Stick to your due dates.
If you extend due dates, you’re not being kind; you’re being unfair. If an assignment was given on Wednesday which is due on Friday, the third of the class who did it by Friday had two days; the two-thirds of the class you then gave until Monday had five days to do the same work. In addition, kids will quickly learn that they need not have their work done on time, because you will likely extend the due date if they fein victimhood. At that point, they have you whipped.
XI. Call for backup (tap the oak to shake the acorn).
Mention calling parents. Then call parents. Kids hate that you crashed their simplistic little scheme to play both ends against the middle. Materials, missing assignments, reading books, and manners appear instantly the next day.
So read with that in mind, and remember, it's supposed to be humorous, so no hate mail, please.
Coulter’s Ten Commandments for Classroom Management (new & improved: now with 10% more commandment)
I. Your agenda is not their agenda. Your agenda must prevail.
You love your subject matter and assume that they will, too, but the last class you took was at a university you were paying good money to attend, and your goals were pretty much the same as your professor’s. Your students do not share this worldview. They want freedom, don’t value your efforts to educate them, and want to avoid work at every turn. You are not leading the Von Trapp family on a singing holiday in the Austrian Alps.
II. Have a battle plan.
Students are like any opportunistic predator: they constantly test for weakenss to exploit. If they smell blood in the water, they close ranks and come in for the kill. They’ll even eat their own. A moment’s indecision here, fumbling around looking for your handouts there, and you’re immediately playing defense. The Alpha Dog, by definition, doesn’t play defense. So,
III. Hit first, and hit hard (idle hands are the Devil’s tools).
You set the tone from the first day, and you teach them how to treat you from the first day by verbal and non-verbal communication: always start at the bell; have something for them to begin immediately: journal topic, warm-up math problems on the board, anything, while you take attendance; always have a task ready at hand in case you’ve under-planned and they finish early. “Free time” is insidious.
IV. Make examples of the first offenders.
Students watch the way you handle the first disruptors to get an idea of what might happen to them if they make trouble. Stop to discipline the first few trespassers immediately, or you teach everyone that you will tolerate it.
V. Practice the magic word: “No.”
Try it, and watch. They won’t die. You have to apply limits to them: they certainly won’t apply limits to themselves. They have an endless stream of requests and personal crises: take them one at a time, at your pace, make the others wait until you get to them. Don’t let them waste big chunks of class time asking you things they could ask you at the end of the period on their way out.
VI. It’s your class, not theirs.
Your job is to bring Order to Chaos. Only then will you have cleared an area in which learning can take place. Don’t be afraid to enforce your will upon them. They’re used to it, and will easily adapt to the structure you build.
VII. Tell students what you want them to do, not what you don’t want them to do.
Teenagers have selective hearing. They’re distracted, and not really listening to you. Negative commands result in confusion. If you say “Don’t put your name on your paper,” three kids will do it anyway, one will ask “Did you say to put our names on our papers?” and you will have to repeat yourself, probably more than once. You’re now managing Chaos, instead of creating Order.
VIII. Choose your battles.
You can’t expend your energy making a big deal of every small infraction of your class rules. If making sure kids don’t slouch in their desks is a huge deal to you, fine; otherwise, save your powder for important battles, like ?
IX. Ignore 85% of what they say.
The so-called adolescent “mind” is an entertaining circus of impressions and half-thoughts interrupted by other impressions and quarter-thoughts, fired by hormonal fluctuations, echoing bits of song lyrics and the students’ own basic insecurities. They verbalize many thoughts that don’t relate to anything. If you respond to, or even listen to, everything they say, you will accomplish nothing in a period, and go slowly insane for your trouble. Learn to tune the static out, and pick up on key words that indicate an intelligent question or pertinent statement is being made.
X. Stick to your due dates.
If you extend due dates, you’re not being kind; you’re being unfair. If an assignment was given on Wednesday which is due on Friday, the third of the class who did it by Friday had two days; the two-thirds of the class you then gave until Monday had five days to do the same work. In addition, kids will quickly learn that they need not have their work done on time, because you will likely extend the due date if they fein victimhood. At that point, they have you whipped.
XI. Call for backup (tap the oak to shake the acorn).
Mention calling parents. Then call parents. Kids hate that you crashed their simplistic little scheme to play both ends against the middle. Materials, missing assignments, reading books, and manners appear instantly the next day.
No Autographs, Please
Yesterday after work I drove to UC Irvine to speak at the Future Teacher's club meeting. A former student of mine is an officer.
I was flattered when he called me. He suggested the topic of classroom management, so I wrote my Ten Commandments for New Teachers, threw it onto PowerPoint, made come copies, and jumped in my car.
There were about ten students in my audience, and they were very receptive, and laughed at the appropriate times. Not many questions, but then they're students in an education program, and don't have much experience to base questions on. Anyway, we were at it about an hour, and it was fun for me. I even received a UCI travel mug as a gift for my trouble. Call it an honorarium.
It's a bit odd coming to this point in my career, mentoring student teachers and being treated as if I have something worthwhile to say. But I guess fifteen years gives me some experience to draw on, so I have to readjust the image I have of myself from fresh-faced apprentice learning his craft to grizzled veteran who knows the game and is a mentor to the younger, fresh-faced apprentices. Seniority, so to speak.
I was flattered when he called me. He suggested the topic of classroom management, so I wrote my Ten Commandments for New Teachers, threw it onto PowerPoint, made come copies, and jumped in my car.
There were about ten students in my audience, and they were very receptive, and laughed at the appropriate times. Not many questions, but then they're students in an education program, and don't have much experience to base questions on. Anyway, we were at it about an hour, and it was fun for me. I even received a UCI travel mug as a gift for my trouble. Call it an honorarium.
It's a bit odd coming to this point in my career, mentoring student teachers and being treated as if I have something worthwhile to say. But I guess fifteen years gives me some experience to draw on, so I have to readjust the image I have of myself from fresh-faced apprentice learning his craft to grizzled veteran who knows the game and is a mentor to the younger, fresh-faced apprentices. Seniority, so to speak.
Wednesday, May 09, 2007
Same Song, Different (Uni)Verse
Was told about an amusing blog by a colleague yesterday. Though it's college professors complaining about their students, I can relate to the professors' complaints, because those students were shaped in the same culture of victimhood, inflated self-esteem and rampant entitlement and laziness that produces my students.
No, they're not all bad, and I'm not saying that. But there are enough of them to make me shake my head in wonder sometimes.
Take a look, have a laugh, and then pity me. : )
No, they're not all bad, and I'm not saying that. But there are enough of them to make me shake my head in wonder sometimes.
Take a look, have a laugh, and then pity me. : )
Tuesday, May 01, 2007
Spring, Sprang, Sprung
May first, and also the first day of state testing.
Our school is trying to get all the testing done in a four-day window. The state allows a three-week window. The same group of kids is in my room for a total of four and a half hours in the morning, bubbling in their forms. The results indirectly relate to teacher effectiveness.
Why they put kids through this intense schedule is beyond me. It seems to me that if the test scores are the first priority, we'd spread them out so that students had a better chance of doing well on each test, instead of cramming them into the shortest possible (and it is the shortest possible) time window. Doesn't make sense. Just doesn't make sense at all.
And of course, students adopt the meme that they don't have to have their materials with them for the shortened classes they go to after the two testing blocks, so my job is made more frustrating. Yay.
I'll be glad when this week is over, and I can go back to simply teaching my students.
Our school is trying to get all the testing done in a four-day window. The state allows a three-week window. The same group of kids is in my room for a total of four and a half hours in the morning, bubbling in their forms. The results indirectly relate to teacher effectiveness.
Why they put kids through this intense schedule is beyond me. It seems to me that if the test scores are the first priority, we'd spread them out so that students had a better chance of doing well on each test, instead of cramming them into the shortest possible (and it is the shortest possible) time window. Doesn't make sense. Just doesn't make sense at all.
And of course, students adopt the meme that they don't have to have their materials with them for the shortened classes they go to after the two testing blocks, so my job is made more frustrating. Yay.
I'll be glad when this week is over, and I can go back to simply teaching my students.
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