God has impeccable timing. Today was a day where I felt like I can impact the lives of the kids who care, but not the ones who don't. I've been feeling that way for a while and God keeps showing me little glimmers of hope. "Don't give up," they whisper as I trudge through daily ups and downs of teaching.
I often teach both the highest and lowest math classes we offer. It creates a balance in my day and also in everyone's schedules. It's easy to feel like a great teacher when you teach kids who already understand math, feel good about their skills, and generally like school. I can take the cream of the crop and keep them there. That is a gift, but it is a daily rewarding one that is hardly ever discouraging. It is easy to feel like a lousy teacher when you teach students who have difficulty with the most basic of math skills and who are afraid of failure (or are comfortable with it) who think school is a lesser form of prison where if you serve your time, you can check out soon.
I have some of the same students from last year's lowest course in this year's regular level course (I teach that too). They are now mixed in with students of all sorts of skill levels and I can see some of my kids just trying to keep quiet and stay in the shadows. They hope to graciously accept the F and slide on through the cracks. I can't let that happen. I try all sorts of methods to prevent it and I feel like none of them are successful. If the student is ready to fail and not brave enough to put in another effort another year, there is little I can do to change that.
Last week I was teaching about simplifying expressions. One of my former (and also current) students was again doing nothing as all the other students practiced a problem together. I knelt by his desk and whispered, "You have to do one problem correctly to show me you know how to do this before you leave today or you owe me your break so you can learn it." He asked me how to do the first problem and we did it together. We continued this way for all four problems. By the fourth, he was doing the whole problem on his own. I watched silently as he did each step perfectly and explained it verbally to me as he went along. I was so proud of him, tears started to brim. He looked up nervously, "Did I do it right?" I nodded and whispered, "Look at my eyes. I'm so proud of you, I'm going to cry. It's perfect! I'm so proud of you." He smiled wide and proud. This is a student who received less than a 10% last year for his final grade and he now knows how to simplify expressions!!
The next day he was diligently taking notes, asking questions, and participating with his classmates. I wrote him a "proud of you" post-it and stuck it to his shirt as he was leaving class. I heard from another adult on campus that he keeps it in the front of his notebook - a bright pink post-it saying that he worked hard and his teacher noticed. Who knows if this is the turning point for him, but if I am able to help him see that if he tries, he may not always fail, then maybe I can see that too.
I got a visit today from a student who was big trouble four years ago when I had him. He pulled pranks, lied, damaged my property, lied about that, stole, lied about that. He was a very scary kid because he was smart and charming and used his powers for evil. Well, he visited today to tell me that he is taking the right level of math (that means he passed his math classes), he's liking school, he's learning auto mechanics, and is going to go to trade school when he graduates. He's looking forward to being old enough to vote, but he wants to take Civics first so that he can be a more informed voter and understand the process better. Here was a mature, respectful, wonderful young man who knew the importance of his education. He biked in from Fountain Valley to tell me that he was doing really well and to see how I was. How am I doing? I'm doing great, thanks, just great.
So God is reminding me that I do my job not for the results of this moment, but for the future. I may never see how I impact them and I may feel like I fail every day with some kids. But my success is not measured by some number from a test or even some grades in a class. I teach lessons that go deeper than any test can assess and I need to be reminded that this is why I do it.
Monday, October 11, 2010
Saturday, October 9, 2010
My Genetic Inheritance
I look just like my mother. I don't exactly have her coloring, but I have her face. Sometimes in photos of her at my age I can't even tell the difference between us. "I don't remember wearing that shirt," and then I realize that I never have worn it. My mother majored in math and teaches it, so do I. She explains things the same way I do, down to each individual question she asks her students. We cook the same (except she's better at it), we think similarly, we even have the same precise lists we make whenever we're planning things that we both call "our brain". It seems I've inherited almost everything from my mom.
But there are three distinct things I've inherited from my father: my hair, my athleticism, and the crazy. My father and I both are pretty mellow people. We like to mingle with friends and strangers. We tell stories and laugh and can take a lot of abuse and let it roll off our backs. But some triggers are deadly. There are some things that happen that make us just snap and suddenly we are acting impulsively and intuitively and plain old crazy. The trigger is usually some supposed injustice or someone endangering themselves or others.
Yesterday, after school, I was walking from the office to my classroom. I had several things in my hands and had left my phone and keys in my room. The school was locked down at this point and several students were waiting outside of the gate for a ride. About seven of my girls were huddled at the corner giggling and pointing at the high school boys strutting across the street. The boys made flirtatious comments and generally pea cocked for the girls. There were so many boys that they could not all fit side by side on the sidewalk so several started walking in the street. I yelled out to them to get out of the street. No response. My girls echoed my demand and the boys, proving their manliness, started to walk out farther into the street. I screamed again that if they did not get on the sidewalk, I was going to call the cops. All ten were now walking in the street taking up an entire lane and causing the cars to swerve around them. Something inside me snapped.
I put down all the things in my hands, walked toward the fence, climbed over it (with only a momentary hesitant voice inside my head saying, "This could be really stupid...") and started to jog toward the crowd. When I reached them, they seemed very confused. I recognized none of them as previous students, but I herded them to the sidewalk anyway saying something like, "You will not die in front of my school. Stay on the sidewalk!" and I'm sure they noticed the crazy in my eyes. "Sorry, we didn't hear you!" "Really, we're really sorry," "Yeah, we'll be more careful!" Saying anything to just make the crazy lady stop.
I instantly realized how dumb this was. I had to walk the block back to my school's crosswalk (I couldn't very well jaywalk after that.) I didn't have my phone or keys and I had no idea how I was going to get back in. After I used the cross walk and tried to greet observing students normally (the whole time feeling totally embarrassed) I noticed that the office door was open. I went in and confessed my stupidity to those inside and hoped that my new principal has a sense of humor.
Later that night, I realized that I'm not quite as young as I used to be and I was a little sore from my hoisting over. I called my dad and said, "Thanks for the genetic make-up!" "Why, did you hit someone?" he asked. Thanks for the crazy, Dad.
But there are three distinct things I've inherited from my father: my hair, my athleticism, and the crazy. My father and I both are pretty mellow people. We like to mingle with friends and strangers. We tell stories and laugh and can take a lot of abuse and let it roll off our backs. But some triggers are deadly. There are some things that happen that make us just snap and suddenly we are acting impulsively and intuitively and plain old crazy. The trigger is usually some supposed injustice or someone endangering themselves or others.
Yesterday, after school, I was walking from the office to my classroom. I had several things in my hands and had left my phone and keys in my room. The school was locked down at this point and several students were waiting outside of the gate for a ride. About seven of my girls were huddled at the corner giggling and pointing at the high school boys strutting across the street. The boys made flirtatious comments and generally pea cocked for the girls. There were so many boys that they could not all fit side by side on the sidewalk so several started walking in the street. I yelled out to them to get out of the street. No response. My girls echoed my demand and the boys, proving their manliness, started to walk out farther into the street. I screamed again that if they did not get on the sidewalk, I was going to call the cops. All ten were now walking in the street taking up an entire lane and causing the cars to swerve around them. Something inside me snapped.
I put down all the things in my hands, walked toward the fence, climbed over it (with only a momentary hesitant voice inside my head saying, "This could be really stupid...") and started to jog toward the crowd. When I reached them, they seemed very confused. I recognized none of them as previous students, but I herded them to the sidewalk anyway saying something like, "You will not die in front of my school. Stay on the sidewalk!" and I'm sure they noticed the crazy in my eyes. "Sorry, we didn't hear you!" "Really, we're really sorry," "Yeah, we'll be more careful!" Saying anything to just make the crazy lady stop.
I instantly realized how dumb this was. I had to walk the block back to my school's crosswalk (I couldn't very well jaywalk after that.) I didn't have my phone or keys and I had no idea how I was going to get back in. After I used the cross walk and tried to greet observing students normally (the whole time feeling totally embarrassed) I noticed that the office door was open. I went in and confessed my stupidity to those inside and hoped that my new principal has a sense of humor.
Later that night, I realized that I'm not quite as young as I used to be and I was a little sore from my hoisting over. I called my dad and said, "Thanks for the genetic make-up!" "Why, did you hit someone?" he asked. Thanks for the crazy, Dad.
Saturday, September 18, 2010
There are Stupid Questions (no matter what your teacher says)
All nice and good teachers try to reassure their students that all questions are welcome and that they should not feel embarrassed if they need help with something. I agree that students often hide what they don't know for fear of looking stupid. I approach it honestly. I tell my students that smart kids ask questions when they don't understand - truth. Other teachers say "there are no stupid questions" - fallacy. To help all of you understand stupid questions teachers receive, I've broken them down into categories and provided some examples.
Were you listening at all?
This is one of the most common types. It involves a student asking a question that repeats, practically verbatim, what the teacher just said. Example from my class this week:
Ms. Dempsey: This is a quiz. You may use your notes and your homework as a reference. That means get out your notes and use them on this quiz.
Roberta: May we use notes on this quiz?
Didn't you just hear your classmate?
This is when a second student asks the same question that the student before just asked. My favorite is when this is combined with the first kind and they not only didn't hear me the first time, but also his/her classmate. Example that occurred directly after Roberta's question:
Bob: Wait, can we use notes on the quiz?
Do you think I'm lying to you?
This form of stupid question usually results from a student who is paranoid or has a math phobia. They ask the same question twenty times because they just can't believe that your answer is true.
Ms. D: You do not need to write down the original problem for word problems, but you do for every other kind. Here's how you can remember: Don't write any words, just numbers and variables. I'll say it again: if it has words, don't write it.
Vanessa: Do we need to write the words for numbers 1-3?
Ms. D: Nope
Vanessa: What about the instructions?
Ms. D: Remember, if it has words don't write it.
Vanessa: I don't get it. Do I have to write the words for numbers 1-3?
Ms. D: No, just answer it.
Vanessa: Wait...
Ms. D: Repeat after me: I do not need to write the words
Vanessa: What?
Ms. D: I'm serious, say it.
Vanessa: I don't need to write the words.
Are you messing with me or do you really not understand what I'm saying?
I give instructions all day long and I feel like I'm pretty clear most of the time, but sometimes I'm not sure. The best is when I'm directing a kid to a location in the room. They refuse to count and many of my directions involve counting: it's the third drawer down, the second cabinet, the fourth tray...
Bob: Where should my quiz go?
Ms. D: In the period three box.
Bob: Which one's that?
Ms. D: The third box down.
Bob: What?
Ms. D: See the stack of six trays? Count from the top, when you get to three that's the third box.
Bob: What?
Ms. D: Put your hand on the top tray. Say the number one.
Bob: One
Ms. D: Good, keep counting.
Bob: What? This one?
Ms. D: No, that's the second one, find the third.
Bob: This one?
Ms. D: That's the fourth. Find the third!
Ummm...why don't you take a sec to think about that one?
Kids ask me questions where the answer feels so obvious that they are answering it themselves as they ask it. I sometimes think they're messing with me, but the look of stupid confusion covers their faces and I know they really don't know what they're asking.
Ms. D: I'm returning your homework that you turned in on Wednesday. It is graded so you may keep it in your notebook.
Joe: Is this my homework?
Ms. D: Yes.
Joe: Should I turn it in?Ms. D: No, I'm returning it to you.
Joe: Where should I put it?
Ms. D: In your notebook.
Joe: Where in my notebook?
Ms. D: Seriously, which of your five sections do you think your homework should go in?
Joe: The homework section?
Ms. D: Bingo!
Now imagine a classroom of such questions six times over five days a week and that is the life of a teacher. It doesn't seem to matter how old or well educated the students are, you will always find a stupid question in your classroom. So the next time a teacher says, "There are no stupid questions," know that the teacher is lying and even she doesn't believe the truth in that statement.
Monday, August 2, 2010
I am Blessed
Have you ever wondered
Why you live where you do
Or know who you know
When the options were endless?
I could have been born in a small village
In some far off country
To a single parent
Or an abusive one
I could have had no opportunities
Thrown at my feet
To have to fight for everything
Food, safety, shelter.
I could have been uneducated
Unable to read
or write
or explore
I could have been, but I wasn't.
I was born in the best country
and a beautiful state
in a house with my own room
and brothers who love me
I have parents who
provided and spoiled
and loved and protected
and still do today.
I was given a fabulous education
for free, and yes I worked hard,
but honestly it was all given to me
as easy as saying, "Yes, please, I'll take that."
I have access to knowledge
and art
and science
and books, such lovely books
I can travel the world
again and again
I can see and be and do
whatever I want.
Why?
It's not like I deserve it! Or earned it!
With great riches come great responsibility.
So the question I must ask is
Not why, but how.
How can I use my riches
wisely and fully
to bless others
to make a difference?
How can I not waste
these precious resources of
time, wealth, education,
of love?
How can I glorify
the One who gave me
life, home, family,
blessings?
Every day I must answer
with my life,
my choices,
my actions.
Here's my life, Lord
Let it be
for you
and your glory.
Why you live where you do
Or know who you know
When the options were endless?
I could have been born in a small village
In some far off country
To a single parent
Or an abusive one
I could have had no opportunities
Thrown at my feet
To have to fight for everything
Food, safety, shelter.
I could have been uneducated
Unable to read
or write
or explore
I could have been, but I wasn't.
I was born in the best country
and a beautiful state
in a house with my own room
and brothers who love me
I have parents who
provided and spoiled
and loved and protected
and still do today.
I was given a fabulous education
for free, and yes I worked hard,
but honestly it was all given to me
as easy as saying, "Yes, please, I'll take that."
I have access to knowledge
and art
and science
and books, such lovely books
I can travel the world
again and again
I can see and be and do
whatever I want.
Why?
It's not like I deserve it! Or earned it!
With great riches come great responsibility.
So the question I must ask is
Not why, but how.
How can I use my riches
wisely and fully
to bless others
to make a difference?
How can I not waste
these precious resources of
time, wealth, education,
of love?
How can I glorify
the One who gave me
life, home, family,
blessings?
Every day I must answer
with my life,
my choices,
my actions.
Here's my life, Lord
Let it be
for you
and your glory.
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
Comic-Con: pre-'con' ceptions and post-'con' ceptions
For those of you who don't know, Comic-Con is a yearly event held in San Diego. It started as a place for comic enthusiasts to share in their common comic love and has grown to a place for nerds of many genres to unite in a four day nerd fest. This was my first year and I went because: a) I was curious b) three of my friends were going c) Twilight sometimes comes. Here are ten of my preconceptions I had before I went and ten postconceptions I now have after my foray into geekdom.
Pre "Con" ceptions:
1) We'd definitely be the cutest girls there. I mean seriously, I went to a nerdy school (with these girls, in fact) and we were considered high on the nerd/pretty scale.
2) Most of the people there would be awkward nerds who only step outside of their electronic caves for Comic Con.
3) We'd see a few things we liked and some things we didn't like.
4) I'd be tempted to buy everything with Wonder Woman on it.
5) I would get lots of free stuff (swag).
6) I would meet someone famous who would instantly see the 'star quality' I possess and sign me on the spot.
7) I would realize the extent of my own nerdiness because I would recognize and have a positive emotion toward many of the things I would see.
8) The people in costumes would be both cool and a little strange.
9) Our shirts would be awesome and people would stop us to tell us how awesome our shirts were.
10) We'd wait in a lot of lines.
Post "Con" ceptions:
1) We were not, in fact, the cutest girls there. There were some girls who were way cuter than we are...I don't know why they were there...
2) The wide range of people there was amazing. It was a people watching haven and some of them certainly fit a certain 'nerd' profile, but most people just seemed like normal, happy fans. It was actually kind of like going to UCI...
3) We got to see the "Chuck" panel and see the whole cast. That was just awesome. But I actually enjoyed the whole day. Even for things I didn't know anything about, it was really interesting to hear the panels and I had a great time the whole day. A lot of it had to do with the fact that I was there with my girls, but seriously, super fun day.
4) I would have bought Wonder Woman stuff, but they only had t-shirts. I wanted notebooks and pens and useful wonder woman stuff. I didn't even see any wonder woman comic books (although I didn't really look for those). Good thing I've got my underroos (ask Auntie Carol).
5) The only free thing I got was the bag they gave me to hold all the free stuff I was supposed to get (and a magazine). I was really hoping for pens or tattoos of wonder woman.
6) No one saw my star quality. The one famous person we met (Zach Whedon) did not seem too excited about meeting us, but he was kind enough to take a picture with us and humor us as we talked about Dr. Horrible.
7) So I am a nerd. I feel like the dam holding back the flood of nerdiness was broken down at comic-con and now I have fully realized how much of a nerd I am. I love Wonder Woman (but that was well documented before all this) and Chuck and half (or more) of the other stuff we saw there. I understood most of the referential jokes made on stage (Alias jokes, Firefly jokes, Dr. Horrible jokes...). But maybe it's like my friend, Aleta, says - I'm a geek translator: I speak and understand the language, but it's not my home country.
8) The people in costumes were both cool and a little strange. Some were just fabulous and really amazing. Some were just trashy. Some were super funny. Some were just strange.
9)We made our own shirts that had "Chuck" references on them. I was told by the same guy (two times), "I LOVE your shirt!" while he jumped up and pointed at it. One of Jfo's friends twittered about our shirts and included a picture of all of us. Later on, a girl stopped us and showed us her text, "That's really strange," she said, "I just got this tweet!" We were famous.
10) We did wait in lines, but they were all so efficiently managed and we had so much food with us and the company we kept was so entertaining - it didn't matter. The lines were part of the experience and actually a great part of it.
So now that I've been, I'm pretty sure I'm hooked. And the worst part is, you don't know what people or shows are going to be there until one week before comic-con takes place. Tickets sell out long before that, so the only way to see all that you want to see is to buy a four day pass. I'm pretty sure this will become a tradition for us and the four day pass will probably be a choice we'll automatically make. Overall, I had a fabulous time, I can't stop thinking about it, and I have all the pictures to prove it.
Pre "Con" ceptions:
1) We'd definitely be the cutest girls there. I mean seriously, I went to a nerdy school (with these girls, in fact) and we were considered high on the nerd/pretty scale.
2) Most of the people there would be awkward nerds who only step outside of their electronic caves for Comic Con.
3) We'd see a few things we liked and some things we didn't like.
4) I'd be tempted to buy everything with Wonder Woman on it.
5) I would get lots of free stuff (swag).
6) I would meet someone famous who would instantly see the 'star quality' I possess and sign me on the spot.
7) I would realize the extent of my own nerdiness because I would recognize and have a positive emotion toward many of the things I would see.
8) The people in costumes would be both cool and a little strange.
9) Our shirts would be awesome and people would stop us to tell us how awesome our shirts were.
10) We'd wait in a lot of lines.
Post "Con" ceptions:
1) We were not, in fact, the cutest girls there. There were some girls who were way cuter than we are...I don't know why they were there...
2) The wide range of people there was amazing. It was a people watching haven and some of them certainly fit a certain 'nerd' profile, but most people just seemed like normal, happy fans. It was actually kind of like going to UCI...
3) We got to see the "Chuck" panel and see the whole cast. That was just awesome. But I actually enjoyed the whole day. Even for things I didn't know anything about, it was really interesting to hear the panels and I had a great time the whole day. A lot of it had to do with the fact that I was there with my girls, but seriously, super fun day.
4) I would have bought Wonder Woman stuff, but they only had t-shirts. I wanted notebooks and pens and useful wonder woman stuff. I didn't even see any wonder woman comic books (although I didn't really look for those). Good thing I've got my underroos (ask Auntie Carol).
5) The only free thing I got was the bag they gave me to hold all the free stuff I was supposed to get (and a magazine). I was really hoping for pens or tattoos of wonder woman.
6) No one saw my star quality. The one famous person we met (Zach Whedon) did not seem too excited about meeting us, but he was kind enough to take a picture with us and humor us as we talked about Dr. Horrible.
7) So I am a nerd. I feel like the dam holding back the flood of nerdiness was broken down at comic-con and now I have fully realized how much of a nerd I am. I love Wonder Woman (but that was well documented before all this) and Chuck and half (or more) of the other stuff we saw there. I understood most of the referential jokes made on stage (Alias jokes, Firefly jokes, Dr. Horrible jokes...). But maybe it's like my friend, Aleta, says - I'm a geek translator: I speak and understand the language, but it's not my home country.
8) The people in costumes were both cool and a little strange. Some were just fabulous and really amazing. Some were just trashy. Some were super funny. Some were just strange.
9)We made our own shirts that had "Chuck" references on them. I was told by the same guy (two times), "I LOVE your shirt!" while he jumped up and pointed at it. One of Jfo's friends twittered about our shirts and included a picture of all of us. Later on, a girl stopped us and showed us her text, "That's really strange," she said, "I just got this tweet!" We were famous.
10) We did wait in lines, but they were all so efficiently managed and we had so much food with us and the company we kept was so entertaining - it didn't matter. The lines were part of the experience and actually a great part of it.
So now that I've been, I'm pretty sure I'm hooked. And the worst part is, you don't know what people or shows are going to be there until one week before comic-con takes place. Tickets sell out long before that, so the only way to see all that you want to see is to buy a four day pass. I'm pretty sure this will become a tradition for us and the four day pass will probably be a choice we'll automatically make. Overall, I had a fabulous time, I can't stop thinking about it, and I have all the pictures to prove it.
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
Words Matter
It may surprise you, but I love to talk. I know, I can hear the collective gasp of shock. I think God has a good laugh at me when I lose my voice completely. I love to speak and sing and make noise, even when no one is around to hear it. I love to read and write words. My love language is words of affirmation. I love words.
And yet, there are times when I seem to forget the power of words. I speak to people all day long. It's my job to do so. I have 200 young minds that listen to me, in varying degrees, for 43 minutes a day. Sometimes I say things in frustration to my students that I cannot believe have come out of my mouth. I say things that I would never say to an adult. Sarcasm comes spewing forth and I feel better for an instant, but I wonder if I've hurt their feelings. Yesterday I had a lunch party in my room for one period because they won a competition for raising money for cancer research. The kids did an amazing job of cleaning up, but the smell of Italian food filled the class. The two classes after lunch noticed and complained again and again. Finally, at the beginning of sixth period, I opened with, "Yes, it smells like food in here because my first period class had a party at lunch. I am sorry it smells like onions." The kids responded by shouting out simultaneously about what else it smelled like - 15 or so comments at the same time. I shouted back, "Thank you! It's not like I live in this room and have been smelling this stench for hours. I don't need you to describe every smell!" My face was turning red and they were surprised to illicit such a violent response of sarcasm. They got over pretty fast, but I certainly was mad over something pretty small.
I get used to the idea that maybe my words don't really matter. I think I can say hurtful things and they'll let it pass or I can say encouragement and it just flows past their preteen ears without making any difference. Some students respond to a discussion with me as if they had ear buds in their ears with music blaring. They smile and nod (or frown and nod) at all the appropriate places and wait for the lecture to be over.
But words are more powerful than that. I should know. I have remembered words teachers said to me ages ago. I have remembered good and bad things people have said in passing to me. Authority figures especially make a mark on my memory. (My favorite is when a teacher wanted a definition for effervescent and someone in class responded, "Brenda") I have post-it notes of encouragement that I sometimes give to my students. They say things like, "You can be proud of yourself for ..." or "I noticed something special about you today. It was..." or "You have no idea how much you helped me when..." I fill them out and just stick them to a kid's desk. I know for some kids, this is a special thing. For some I assume it means nothing...but I am wrong.
Yesterday, I was talking with a student who is really smart, but doesn't always do his work. His effort (and eventually his grade) fluctuates up and down depending on his mood. He had done nothing in class on his project that day. When I asked him during class, he said he was working on it at home. I told him that he had to do at least one part today. I checked on him at the end of class and he had not met the goal I had set for him. He had nothing. He then confessed that he had lost the paper explaining the project and didn't know what to do. He opened his notebook to show me the one part he did have and I saw a purple sticky note that said, "You can feel proud of yourself for working so much harder in math class." I gave that note to him in third quarter. He had saved it in his notebook.
On the surface this kid seems unfazed by me or my teaching. He seems too cool for school. He knows all the answers and can choose to participate or not, it doesn't matter. And yet he kept my note. He wasn't going to show it, but my words affect him.
I need to be so careful with what I say. I have the power to motivate and bring down 2oo times over every day. In my frustrations I need to be an example to my kids of what's appropriate. I need to use words that lift up, even in discipline. What a responsibility! I need to never take it lightly.
Let me end with an anecdote from one of my classes during a discussion about Einstein:
Kid 1: Wasn't it true that Einstein was only good at one thing?
Me: No, he was good at a lot of things.
Kid 1: That doesn't make me feel better about myself.
Me: But did you know that one of Einstein's teachers said that he would never amount to much?
Class in a bored, drone tone: Yes
Me: Ahh, the power of a discouraging word to motivate someone to great heights.
Kid 1: Man, now we'll never amount to anything, Miss D.
Me: Why not?
Kid 1: You encourage us too much!
And yet, there are times when I seem to forget the power of words. I speak to people all day long. It's my job to do so. I have 200 young minds that listen to me, in varying degrees, for 43 minutes a day. Sometimes I say things in frustration to my students that I cannot believe have come out of my mouth. I say things that I would never say to an adult. Sarcasm comes spewing forth and I feel better for an instant, but I wonder if I've hurt their feelings. Yesterday I had a lunch party in my room for one period because they won a competition for raising money for cancer research. The kids did an amazing job of cleaning up, but the smell of Italian food filled the class. The two classes after lunch noticed and complained again and again. Finally, at the beginning of sixth period, I opened with, "Yes, it smells like food in here because my first period class had a party at lunch. I am sorry it smells like onions." The kids responded by shouting out simultaneously about what else it smelled like - 15 or so comments at the same time. I shouted back, "Thank you! It's not like I live in this room and have been smelling this stench for hours. I don't need you to describe every smell!" My face was turning red and they were surprised to illicit such a violent response of sarcasm. They got over pretty fast, but I certainly was mad over something pretty small.
I get used to the idea that maybe my words don't really matter. I think I can say hurtful things and they'll let it pass or I can say encouragement and it just flows past their preteen ears without making any difference. Some students respond to a discussion with me as if they had ear buds in their ears with music blaring. They smile and nod (or frown and nod) at all the appropriate places and wait for the lecture to be over.
But words are more powerful than that. I should know. I have remembered words teachers said to me ages ago. I have remembered good and bad things people have said in passing to me. Authority figures especially make a mark on my memory. (My favorite is when a teacher wanted a definition for effervescent and someone in class responded, "Brenda") I have post-it notes of encouragement that I sometimes give to my students. They say things like, "You can be proud of yourself for ..." or "I noticed something special about you today. It was..." or "You have no idea how much you helped me when..." I fill them out and just stick them to a kid's desk. I know for some kids, this is a special thing. For some I assume it means nothing...but I am wrong.
Yesterday, I was talking with a student who is really smart, but doesn't always do his work. His effort (and eventually his grade) fluctuates up and down depending on his mood. He had done nothing in class on his project that day. When I asked him during class, he said he was working on it at home. I told him that he had to do at least one part today. I checked on him at the end of class and he had not met the goal I had set for him. He had nothing. He then confessed that he had lost the paper explaining the project and didn't know what to do. He opened his notebook to show me the one part he did have and I saw a purple sticky note that said, "You can feel proud of yourself for working so much harder in math class." I gave that note to him in third quarter. He had saved it in his notebook.
On the surface this kid seems unfazed by me or my teaching. He seems too cool for school. He knows all the answers and can choose to participate or not, it doesn't matter. And yet he kept my note. He wasn't going to show it, but my words affect him.
I need to be so careful with what I say. I have the power to motivate and bring down 2oo times over every day. In my frustrations I need to be an example to my kids of what's appropriate. I need to use words that lift up, even in discipline. What a responsibility! I need to never take it lightly.
Let me end with an anecdote from one of my classes during a discussion about Einstein:
Kid 1: Wasn't it true that Einstein was only good at one thing?
Me: No, he was good at a lot of things.
Kid 1: That doesn't make me feel better about myself.
Me: But did you know that one of Einstein's teachers said that he would never amount to much?
Class in a bored, drone tone: Yes
Me: Ahh, the power of a discouraging word to motivate someone to great heights.
Kid 1: Man, now we'll never amount to anything, Miss D.
Me: Why not?
Kid 1: You encourage us too much!
Sunday, June 6, 2010
I Demand Justice - If it's not too much of a bother
It's a strange thing about me. I am a bold person. I don't get embarrassed about dancing, speaking, singing in public. I don't mind looking ridiculous, asking questions, or helping others even if it's unwanted. But I am also an extremely meek person when it comes to confrontation. I want to be liked, I want to be loved, in fact, by everyone. I'm not talking just my parents and friends or even my students and colleagues. I want to be loved by strangers.
This is a burdensome and frankly stupid way to live, but it is something I cling to. This makes talking with people on the phone and demanding a problem to be solved probably one of the most difficult things for me to do.
My credit card was stolen a few months back. I was told by the company not to pay my credit card bill under any circumstances until they told me that the situation was cleared. They canceled my old card and issued a new one. I filed a police report and filled out all of the necessary paperwork for my card. No one called me. I waited and waited and called them several times.
Credit man: It may take weeks to clear this up
Me: But may I pay my card yet?
Credit man: NOOOO! NEVER PAY IT until we say so.
Me: Really? I hate having a balance, what about late fees?
Credit man: all late fees will be covered by the company. Just wait for us.
One month went by with similar interactions. I didn't use my card or pay it off (even though it killed me to have a balance). I also get these cards to buy clothes at my favorite store. It's the reason I use my credit card. I earn cash to spend at my store by charging my monthly expenses and paying it all off each month so I have no interest. Well, I had $60 to spend and they all expired before my card stuff was cleared up. They wouldn't let me use them without my card and I wasn't going to use it until it was cleared up.
Finally I got a bill in the mail saying I owed the credit card money. I received zero phone calls from the company telling me my progress. I called them and asked if I should pay it.
Credit man: Of course!
Me: But you said you'd call me and tell me I was supposed to pay it.
Credit man: You should pay this.
Me: Have all of the fraudulent charges been cleared?
Credit man: Yes.
Me: What about late fees.
Credit man: (with frustration) Of course we covered those.
I wrote a check covering the entire balance and breathed a sigh of relief that I could now have a zero balance...until I checked this month's statement. They apparently left off a thousand dollars from my payment check even though I wrote it for the full balance. They charged me a late fee and interest for the following month. I'm a math teacher...I know the pains of credit card interest and I make special care to not pay any extra. I want to work the system for my benefit. I was so mad.
So I called the credit card company and explained what happened.
Credit Lady: I'm so sorry. I see right here the clerical error. Just write us a check for the remaining balance and it will ok.
Me: But I want the interest removed.
Credit Lady: Of course.
Me: And I was promised that I wouldn't have to pay a late fee.
Credit Lady: I will remove that too.
Suddenly I felt empowered. I could simply ask for what I wanted and it was given to me. Is this how bold people feel all the time. I thought I should just go for it and ask about the $60 I had lost in the process.
Me: What about the $60
Credit Lady: Oh, I'm afraid I can't do anything about that.
Me: But I was unable to use the card points until this was all cleared up and they expired in the interim.
Credit Lady: I'm not able to do anything about that.
I could feel myself folding. I didn't want to be rude. What right had I to demand anything. I should just be thankful for what I had accomplished and hang up. But then I did something that shocked even me.
Me: Could your supervisor authorize that?
Credit Lady: Yes, let me transfer you.
Oh, yeah. I asked to speak with a supervisor and I got it all arranged. It's going to take another 8 weeks, but I'm going to get my money back! So in all, I saved myself $120 by being bold and assertive. I think that's all I have left in me for the year though, so it better not happen again. Baby steps...baby steps.
This is a burdensome and frankly stupid way to live, but it is something I cling to. This makes talking with people on the phone and demanding a problem to be solved probably one of the most difficult things for me to do.
My credit card was stolen a few months back. I was told by the company not to pay my credit card bill under any circumstances until they told me that the situation was cleared. They canceled my old card and issued a new one. I filed a police report and filled out all of the necessary paperwork for my card. No one called me. I waited and waited and called them several times.
Credit man: It may take weeks to clear this up
Me: But may I pay my card yet?
Credit man: NOOOO! NEVER PAY IT until we say so.
Me: Really? I hate having a balance, what about late fees?
Credit man: all late fees will be covered by the company. Just wait for us.
One month went by with similar interactions. I didn't use my card or pay it off (even though it killed me to have a balance). I also get these cards to buy clothes at my favorite store. It's the reason I use my credit card. I earn cash to spend at my store by charging my monthly expenses and paying it all off each month so I have no interest. Well, I had $60 to spend and they all expired before my card stuff was cleared up. They wouldn't let me use them without my card and I wasn't going to use it until it was cleared up.
Finally I got a bill in the mail saying I owed the credit card money. I received zero phone calls from the company telling me my progress. I called them and asked if I should pay it.
Credit man: Of course!
Me: But you said you'd call me and tell me I was supposed to pay it.
Credit man: You should pay this.
Me: Have all of the fraudulent charges been cleared?
Credit man: Yes.
Me: What about late fees.
Credit man: (with frustration) Of course we covered those.
I wrote a check covering the entire balance and breathed a sigh of relief that I could now have a zero balance...until I checked this month's statement. They apparently left off a thousand dollars from my payment check even though I wrote it for the full balance. They charged me a late fee and interest for the following month. I'm a math teacher...I know the pains of credit card interest and I make special care to not pay any extra. I want to work the system for my benefit. I was so mad.
So I called the credit card company and explained what happened.
Credit Lady: I'm so sorry. I see right here the clerical error. Just write us a check for the remaining balance and it will ok.
Me: But I want the interest removed.
Credit Lady: Of course.
Me: And I was promised that I wouldn't have to pay a late fee.
Credit Lady: I will remove that too.
Suddenly I felt empowered. I could simply ask for what I wanted and it was given to me. Is this how bold people feel all the time. I thought I should just go for it and ask about the $60 I had lost in the process.
Me: What about the $60
Credit Lady: Oh, I'm afraid I can't do anything about that.
Me: But I was unable to use the card points until this was all cleared up and they expired in the interim.
Credit Lady: I'm not able to do anything about that.
I could feel myself folding. I didn't want to be rude. What right had I to demand anything. I should just be thankful for what I had accomplished and hang up. But then I did something that shocked even me.
Me: Could your supervisor authorize that?
Credit Lady: Yes, let me transfer you.
Oh, yeah. I asked to speak with a supervisor and I got it all arranged. It's going to take another 8 weeks, but I'm going to get my money back! So in all, I saved myself $120 by being bold and assertive. I think that's all I have left in me for the year though, so it better not happen again. Baby steps...baby steps.
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