After-School Hours

So we are clear.  I did not write this quote or the reference. I stumbled upon this tonight and thought it might work well as a rhetorical analysis piece for my AP Language class.

“Don’t be deceived when they tell you things are better now. Even if there’s no poverty to be seen because the poverty’s been hidden. Even if you ever got more wages and could afford to buy more of these new and useless goods which industries foist on you and even if it seems to you that you never had so much, that is only the slogan of those who still have much more than you. Don’t be taken in when they paternally pat you on the shoulder and say that there’s no inequality worth speaking of and no more reason to fight because if you believe them they will be completely in charge in their marble homes and granite banks from which they rob the people of the world under the pretence of bringing them culture. Watch out, for as soon as it pleases them they’ll send you out to protect their gold in wars whose weapons, rapidly developed by servile scientists, will become more and more deadly until they can with a flick of the finger tear a million of you to pieces.” Those words were written by Jean-Paul Marat in the latter part of the 18th century, but they are still so true that they could have been written today. Marat (1743-1793) was a physician, political scientist, journalist and one of the more radical leaders of the French Revolution.

Grading has consumed my mind and my time as of late. 

My M.S. is  exhausting me. I'm not a spring chicken any more. 

I'm wondering if the classroom is where I am supposed to be, but haven't had the courage to pray about it. (It has to do with being "careful what you pray for.")

So while having my cup of coffee this morning, I came across this. 

Read this quote on Dr. Scott McLeod's  blog called "Mind Dump". Definitely worth reflecting on.

"Your time is limited, so don't waste it living someone else's life. Don't be trapped by dogma -- which is living with the results of other people's thinking. Don't let the noise of others' opinions drown out your own inner voice. And most important, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition. They somehow already know what you truly want to become."

Henry David Thoreau spent two years living near Waldon pond (just two miles from town).  There he pondered life, grew vegetables, built a cabin, wrote and wrote and wrote. He had time for pondering. He had time for conversation. He had time to watch nature.

As a teacher, I'm finding less and less time to peal away from work to think and write.

But tonight finds me thinking not about teaching but about fatherhood.  What does it take to be a good father? How will I know if I'm any good?  There are no re-dos, I know, and that is the most frightening thought.

I read this post this morning by Tom at "Stop Trying to Inspire Me" blog.  I've come to appreciate his candor, passion and his genuine desire to help and teach.

If you teach, this is an important post to read.  Consider the students in front of you. Consider their stories.

Our district is implementing Marzano's teacher evaluation tool. One of it's components asks administrators to evaluate the rapport between teacher and student. 

How will the evaluators do that in a 15 minute "walk through"? a 45 minute evaluation?

Does a teacher's knowledge about students' personal lives change the way a lesson runs or the way a discussion progresses or affect a change in which topics or pieces of literature to cover or writing assignments given? 

I'd set a goal for myself to write for 30 minutes a day, every day, for a month.  I've already missed two days.

Either my life is boring or I just don't have much to say.

Regardless, I'm thinking I do have things to say, but more importantly, I have things to do.  Like taking care of my 6 month old. Like taking care of my 7 year old.  Like spending sweet, quiet time with my wife having an intense conversation over sushi and wine while the 7 year old plays outside and the 6 month old naps. Like going for a walk on the beach with my family. Like grading the never-ending pile of papers. Like planning for the upcoming school week that's guaranteed to feature unexpected interruptions and expected but nonsensical meetings. Like thinking about meeting with my principal to talk about my professional goals for the year. Like helping my wife get ready for her first week back at work in six months.  Like cleaning the house.  Like watching the Gators lose their star quarterback and the game this weekend.

Maybe I just have to find a different time to write.

I've been writing more this past week than I have in the past year. I'm pleased with that.

Time to make breakfast and get the girls ready for the day.

I started teaching in the fall of 1997 and with the exception of taking five months away from teaching (a drive around the country for 3 months, a night stock man job at an office supply store) it's the only job I've had post-college. 

A few things I love about teaching: Nothing is ever the same. I'm constantly thinking on my feet. Students. Students. Students.

Which brings me to today.  Eric Steckle, a popular blues guitarist, will be guest speaking to my AVID students.  Eric was a student in my class a number of years ago and is now a student at the local college. 

Yesterday, Desiree, another former student, stopped by to bring me a picture of a popular actress she had saved from her work.  She knew I liked the actress and thought I'd appreciate the picture.  I do.  And I appreciated the gesture.

So today, I'm reminded of all the kind, gentle, thoughtful students I've taught. Of the ones that come back to say 'hello'. Of the ones I haven't spoken to in years but still think about.  Of the ones who return to give back to the young students in my room.  Of the ones who befriended me on Facebook and who now have careers and children of their own. 

Maybe it was this way when I went to school.  I don't remember. But every 'school' my daughter has gone to/attends (day care, elementary school, Sunday school) uses the trick of the "prize box."

One would be hard pressed these days to find a school that doesn't utilize a Reward and Punishment system. 

Imagine my surprise last night when I pick up my daughter from Sunday school, a place to learn about Jesus and being kind...wait a minute...is he the ultimate prize box?...let's not go there right now... and she tells me she "can't wait until next week since she'll have 5 stickers for bringing her folder each week and she'll be able to go to the prize box and it's a much better prize box than the one at her [regular] school because it has better prizes."

A visit to her day care/elementary school prize boxes was/is predicated on her behavior that particular week.  Good behavior all week=visit to a box filled with worthless, trivial plastic crap on Friday.  One day of bad behavior (step out of line..., step on a crack..., etc.) and, in the vein of the Soup Nazi, "No prize box for you!" 

What is school's fascination with the prize box?  By the time the kids get to me as 9th graders, they are so conditioned to expect a prize box that some are startled to find there is no such thing in high school...at lest not a 'prize box' filled with worthless, trivial plastic crap.

Instead, in high school, we reward them with permission to go to formal dances or laptops or gift cards if they've been to all classes on-time for a month. Students who drive can get discounted parking passes for having good (C average) grades.  And, of course, we give grades. Don't let's go there right now.  

The drive had been long.  Probably longer than he'd expected it to be. Suppose driving without a map and without a memory can make any trip seem like an odyssey. 

How could he have made that drive? By himself?  In his condition?

The postcard I held in my hand showed a picture of a grain silo protruding from an open field with the words "Nebraska!" in red block letters neatly printed in an arch over the clear blue sky just above the silo.

I flipped the worn card in my hand and read by the light of the street lamp just outside the bar.

"Jessie, Made it to the middle. Stopped at a place called Burden's Bar. Chilly September evening. Do you understand? Can you understand? I didn't want to put you or Sam through this. She won't get it. Maybe you'll try to explain it to her one day. Tell her I loved her more than life. Love Mitch"

Ben Franklin is given attribution for the aphorism, "Early to bed, early to rise, makes a man healthy, wealthy and wise."  He should know.  Most likely he wasn't the first to discover that a full night's rest makes one feel like they can take on the world at 5 A.M.

I like the early morning hours- the quiet hum of the refrigerator (when it isn't rattling),  the shifts and moans of the house, the coffee pot reminding me it, too, is awake and leaking water.

The problem is, I start thinking about school and the plans for the day the minute my brain decides it's ready to begin the day.

Admittedly, lesson planning isn't my forte.  I know where I want to go, where I want my students to go, what skills the state says they need to master prior to leaving my classroom, yet, lesson planning always plays back up to the Tom Brady that is Grading.

Perhaps a shift in priorities is in order. Of course, it's difficult to create a new offensive scheme around someone who's been keeping the bench warm for the majority of your coaching career.  (And here is where I leave the cliched coaching/football metaphor behind.)

I try to lesson plan over the summer weeks, to little success.  Taking care of my children is more important. Relaxing with my wife is more important. Sleep is more important.

Maybe what I really need is better organization. No one needs to reinvent the wheel; why should I? 

Better organization might lead to better lesson plans.  Better lesson plans will reduce my stress level.  A reduction in stress level will keep me healthy.  Greater health can lead to more energy which in turn could afford me the opportunities to make extra money in pursuit of my other goals.

I'm worried about a particular parent and a particular email about a particular student.

To say that there could be legal ramifications for my actions is an understatement. 

I've done nothing wrong. But this isn't a declaration of innocence.  I truly haven't done anything wrong.

Teaching is a rough, non-contact sport. Passing interference. Coach's in the hot seat. Personal fouls. 

I get it on some level.

This isn't a pity party.

I'm good at what I do. I teach bell to bell- why would I want to waste their time? I expect great things not mediocre excuses from my students.  I listen to them. I mean really listen to them.  I help, guide, push, prod, nurture, but I don't coddle.

Since becoming a father, I've thought about whether or not I'd want my daughters being taught by a teacher like me. 

The answer is yes. Maybe not everyday, because some days I'm not the best I can be. But perfection was never my strong suit.

I make plans; I execute those plans the best way I know how. And sometimes, as plans are want to do, they don't go well. They are called plans for a reason.  So maybe not on those days.  Then again, maybe on those days as well.  After all, isn't it just as important to show that it's o.k. to make mistakes?

It's the night before I leave for Boston to attend the "Building Learning Communities 2011" conference, and, man, am I excited!

I've looked forward to this conference for a few months, and, while, truth be told, I don't know what to expect (except that I'll get to see my friend lorenchuk and share ideas and learning with countless other educators from around the country and world and get energized to empower my students and their learning and build my own learning community). 

Times like these make me realize just how much I enjoy/love learning.