Mr Khaki Pants

The World

2006-10-10T20:11:00.000-05:00

Somewhere houses burn down,

With babies inside.

Somewhere children shoot shop-clerks

Caught on camera.

Mothers prostitute themselves, suffocate their daughters;

But I wish that place weren’t here.

This young man attends my high school; perhaps I've asked him to tuck in his shirt... We discussed plagiarism & senseless violence today. I see the video. Enlarged. I'm numb.

Sarah on Of Mice and Men, page 68

2006-07-31T22:56:00.000-05:00

"Does this book end happy or sad?"

I'm not telling you.

"Why?"

Because you need to keep reading and find out for yourself. (pause) How do you think it ends?

Reluctantly: "Sad."

Yep. (pause) It sort of epitomizes the sad ending. It might be the original sad ending.

"I don't want to keep reading."

Why?

In a soft, sad voice: "Because I want them to get their little farm."

My December 2004 MTC Application Essay

2006-06-22T23:20:00.000-05:00

I intended to post this last summer but never got around to it. I stumbled upon it today and was amazed by what I'd written; I'll comment on it later -- it's already quite long:

I want to contribute socially while growing personally, to teach high-school English while living in a rural Southern or Appalachian community, to pursue graduate coursework in Education while supporting myself financially. Professors and friends have suggested AmeriCorps, Teach For America, or the Peace Corps. But nearly three years ago, I found the Mississippi Teacher Corps’ Website and began e-mailing Germain McConnell questions academic, bureaucratic, logistical, and goofy.

During the past two years – while hibernating in my study; crisscrossing Israel; writing stories; traversing America by plane, train, and automobile; living in a nineteenth-century Virginian farmhouse; preparing for an extended stay in Mexico – I printed and completed MTC applications, amassed transcripts, frequented the Website, and even had recommendation letters sent once. But I never applied. Never put stamp to envelope and took my chance: I couldn’t bear the inevitable “your GPA is too low.”

Today, I have quite the collection of e-mail correspondence and dated application forms. A gathering of daydreams and desires: tangible reminders of years I might’ve spent teaching. But I’ve deliberated enough, weighing long- and short-term ambitions. January 2005, I apply.

Because.

I enjoy helping others better themselves. While at the University of Michigan, I volunteered with the Detroit Project to beautify city neighborhoods; with the Cystic Fibrosis Foundation to walk for a cure; with Tuesday Friends to supervise physically- and mentally-challenged adults at movies, barbeques, and pools; with Project Serve’s Alternative Spring Break (ASB) to educate high-school dropouts and rebuild flood-damaged homes in rural West Virginia. I’ve touched urban poverty, held hands with the handicapped, and hugged backwater dope fiends. I’ve seen that I can make a difference – that I enjoy making a difference. But I want more: I want to nourish souls, challenge minds, and evoke excellence.

I’m looking to create a mind-blowing classroom experience for students by combining elements from my three most memorable and worthwhile educational experiences: (1) The six-week, eight-credit, uber-awesome New England Literature Program (NELP) run by U of M’s English Department, during which students and staff inhabit cabins, hike mountains, read incessantly, write intensively, live deliberately, and provoke one another to greatness while studying New England poetry and prose in a passionate, tight-knit community; (2) My two-month road trip to historical and literary hotspots around America (Twain’s Connecticut home, the Alcott house, Hawthorne’s Concord estate, Walden Pond, D.C., Antietam, Revolutionary War sites, Seneca Falls, Thomas Jefferson’s Monticello, Ground Zero, etc.) which enlivened biographies and histories by meaningfully connecting me with America: a people, a place, and a time; (3) The previously mentioned ASB during which university students visit distressed communities, assist local laborers, and motivate struggling individuals. I love the hands-on approach!

A la Walt Whitman, I seek a synthesis of curriculum and experience. Bringing texts to the students, but also bringing students to the texts. I plan to facilitate an emotional, intellectual, meaningful literary experience, forcing students to think: arguing with me, bettering themselves, engaging with the material, personalizing the discussion. My gift is communication – specifically with children. I’ve taught teary-eyed pre-teens to dive, hysterical toddlers to float, and nearly 100 nervous students to improve SAT, PSAT, and LSAT scores. (I hope to bring similar programs to local schools.) I would like to sponsor an extra-curricular African-American Literature Society to connect students with their literary traditions and an extra-curricular writing workshop to engage young voices. I want to instill a love of writing and the English language as powerful as my own: a passion for grammar, an ardor for prose, a fascination with oddball literary characters from Holden Caulfield to King Lear. To work as hard as my teachers did.

Teaching is less about a checklist syllabus or national agenda and much more about motivational antics and personal connections with individuals. Teaching is reciprocal. It is the best way to understand the next generation, to contribute communally, and to interact substantively with others. I teach because I enjoy imparting skill and confidence. Watching somebody “get it” – eyes dancing, cheeks glowing, ideas clicking – is wonderful! I love tackling difficulties, assuaging fears, and steadying bicycles. Reminding kids to pedal, counterbalancing their weight, then releasing the bicycle, and watching students zoom.

Today, disadvantaged communities most need these outstanding contributors and energetic bike holders. Beyond ASB and NELP, my interests in Appalachia and the rural South stem from 6 weeks spent solo-camping outside a small coal-mining town in Pennsylvania while reading Salinger, Nietzsche, and Hesse; four months as a counselor at Kabeyun when William Pollack’s Real Boys gained widespread popularity; James Agee’s efforts to expose American poverty in Let Us Now Praise Famous Men; FDR’s commitment to politically neglected Americans; and the many teachers to whom I trace my many enthrallments: Mrs. Fallbaum, Mr. Calkins, Mrs. Jaffe, my grandfather, my mother, John Rubadeau, Tish O’Dowd, Ralph Waldo Emerson, Plato. Many forces have together funneled me toward a life of service.

But what motivates me, challenges me to pedal faster? Teaching. Read my recommendation letters. Call my employers. Please. Descriptions of my teaching style vary from “passionate” to “committed” to “excellent.” I strive to stay ahead of my students, to teach to each of my students, to impress and motivate each of them to action. I’m busy and active when teaching and preparing to teach; I’m focused and energized. I mention all this in juxtaposition to my past academic record.

A cursory look at my transcript reveals several issues. (1) In college, my coursework was sporadic, depending on the class, semester, or professor. Finding employment, acceptance letters, and pride from such a marred transcript is, needless to say, difficult. (2) My commitment to and mastery of English Literature and writing courses cannot be denied. (3) I have an obvious capacity to excel when motivated and an undeniable, untapped potential evidenced by, again, “occasional” outstanding – far above average – scores, triumphs, and accomplishments. If good judgment comes from experience, then experience comes from bad judgment. I spent much of college learning from mistakes: the semester I pledged a fraternity, the semester I slept in my car, the semester I took off to visit old friends. I can relate to the struggling student, the disinterested, bored, or quitting child; I can understand firsthand why someone wouldn’t care as much about class A as class B or why someone wouldn’t see the practicality of schooling. Plus, I can confidently say that such behaviors are in the past – are behind me.

I’m deliberately enclosing 3 extra recommendation letters because they are the strongest indicator of who I am today – yes, I saw the directions “do not include any additional information or supplemental materials,” but I must. I would rather not get the job for failure to follow instructions than for failure to most fully paint the picture. These varying letters provide more color and humanity than black and white grades ever could. I am devoted to and excellent at teaching. I need someone to invest in me as badly as the Mississippi Delta kids need someone to invest in them. I want to further my own academic studies because Education is paramount. And I relish the opportunity to prove that I am capable of an “A” transcript; I long for the opportunity to improve upon and further my own schooling.

At NELP, I learned to challenge perceptions, embrace education, and seek genius in everyone. I look forward to a classroom full of boisterous discussion, feverish crescendos, full-contact learning. I make it impossible for students not to speak up; I lead and follow like a chalk-wielding one-man circus. I want to make books and language as tangible to them as my road trip made authors and history to me. ASB showed me firsthand what “want” means. And I’m no idiot. I understand that my students may face tremendous peer and social pressures, have rough or unpredictable home lives, and see little practical use for English class. But I intend to demonstrate the financial benefit of confident, persuasive writing – to teach the power of coherent, structured communication. I have these gifts and enthusiasm to offer.

My immediate future is alive with exciting possibilities. I may teach at NELP in Maine; assume more responsibilities at Camp Kabeyun; lead a 40-day USY trip to Alaska, Israel, or Costa Rica; prepare a fiction manuscript for publication; apply for a Fulbright grant; study as an NYC teaching fellow; take summer classes in New Mexico, Alaska, or Vermont toward a Masters degree in Literature through Bread Loaf School of English; use grant monies to found an alternative Tent-City summer writing program for high-school students; or attend MTC training in Oxford, Mississippi. My “five-year plan” involves a variety of pursuits focused on Literature and education, stamping out ignorance, and leadership.

I hope I’ve been clear: of everything I’ve mentioned and every program I’ve considered, the Mississippi Teacher Corps is the program that most speaks to me. I see it as the cornerstone around which everything else fits. I would like to use my MTC experience as a stepping stone into future teaching, graduate work, and communal outreach – locally, politically, legislatively, creatively. I’m currently in a holding pattern somewhere between a 3.0 and a successful, impacting future. And I would love to begin amid Tennessee Williams’ characters, Faulkner’s lands, and Twain’s waters. For three years, MTC has been my top choice. It still is. So, I’m going to mail this letter. I’m going to send this application, and I’m going to go home, throw away the abandoned forms, and wait for your decision.

I’ve made mine.

Corporal Punishment (600+ words)

2006-06-20T20:03:00.000-05:00

How did you feel about corporal punishment when the program started? How do you feel now?

I was vehemently opposed to corporal punishment when I began Teacher Corps last year. I refused to believe that a culture of in-school violence could somehow teach a child that violence was wrong. Surely the “moral high ground” would be best for all involved parties.

I am now strongly against corporal punishment. Which, I suppose, is a lessening of severity – but just barely. On occasion, throughout the year, I found myself wondering about the possible benefits (the swift justice and demeaning embarrassment to the student) of paddling. But, as angry as I ever got – and once or twice I could feel my blood boiling at a few select students (better: at their behavior) – I never struck or really considered striking a student. Not my nature.

It should be noted that I teach in a district that does not allow corporal punishment to be used – not that I haven’t heard stories of coaches paddling disobedient athletes. I really don’t have 350 words to say on this topic. It’s a moot point: hitting kids is wrong; I don’t hit kids. We’ve heard horror stories all year about teachers taking it too far, and we all know stories about violence breading monsters. In fact, if this year has been about one inter-personal skill, it’s been about “killing them with kindnesses.”

Some people enter a meeting ready for an argument, but, more than occasionally, I’ve disarmed those fiery folk with my genuine interest in their point of view and my calmness. I found it best to listen to people (parents, students, crazy librarians) and to hear them out; then, after they’ve spent themselves, I calmly ask them a question – usually of the “what can I do to help you?” variety. Expecting a fight or a confrontation, they have no idea how to respond; then they start feeling bad (embarrassed, really) for losing their temper, and before long we’ve reached an agreement, and I conclude with some motivational words and a joke. When I describe it now, it almost sounds scripted or disingenuous. But really, it’s all honest emotion being productively channeled towards an efficient, mutually desired outcome. (I sound like a businessman: all efficiency and “at the end of the day”-ish. [Well, having given my Classroom Management presentation today, the fact that I run my classroom in an efficient, multi-tasking, activity-heavy manner has not escaped my notice.] As a teacher, I tried my best to skip the bullshit and circumnavigate the nonessential moments. These include staff meetings, meaningless confrontations, and professional development.)

To corporally punish? I promised myself long ago that I wouldn’t resort to violence (having seen a friend snap and destroy an apartment [and its bathroom] in his rage). So I’m good at not “losing my shit in a fit of rage.” This year I promised myself that I wouldn’t let anger fill me with internal rage either. Throughout the year, I could feel myself swallowing anger so as not to flip out on my students. But I then decided to protect my heart from undue stress and drama; probably the most health-conscious decision I made all year. I breathe deep and listen, waiting for my chance to question.

To wrap up this meaningless required entry, what troubles me most about corporal punishment and the culture of fear and violence it enables is the teacher so quick to brag about smacking a child or assisting in a whooping or actively whooping a child. I guess it’s something that I won’t understand until I have kids and am faced with the very real dilemma of whether or not to spank a child who’s deliberately peed on my books.

The Mess Inside

2006-06-20T01:14:00.000-05:00

A highly productive day.

I realized that waking at 6:00 am (for the party bus to enrich three rising-seniors) and then returning from Holly Springs just before 2:00 pm makes for an eight hour day before I've noticed.

But today The WikEd Five met for snacks and insults, standing our project upright for the first time. Not bad. A conversation with Dr. Mullins re: the Reggie Barnes endorsed Mississippi Alternate Pathways to Quality School Leadership. "A dog" as expected; "unendorsed" according to Dr. Burnham. Hardly surprising. But I can't say that the program doesn't have its appealing side -- especially since the Principal Corps won't start until June 2008.

A 90-minute Mullins lecture re: Jackson, then we talk about Public Policy programs, PhD's, and law school. Then, finally, Mo and I start talking about CRCL and Jim Hill and, well, here's what happened (the text of my 1:30 am email to him):

I stumbled across this amazing FREE site/gaming-database while researching software options for ETC (hereafter known as the "Enrichment Tutoring Club").

http://www.triton.k12.wi.us/Web%20Site%20Resources/MathPage.asp

The above site will serve as our math-center. The below site... a way to spend money on reading remediation? Maybe these programs aren't so bad, when used in a supplementary fashion? (But how do I find THE BEST ONE (or the most efficient/affordable one? I contemplate Sylvan, etc.)

http://www.lexialearning.com/index.cfm (I'm thinking "primary reading" coupled with a "visual-spatial" and "logical reasoning" tutorial package.)

I think Jordan Fundamentals (grant notification in late August) would fund this software and food; I lack Lexia's pricing but will be contacted soon. We can use MLI to pay an elementary teacher to baby-sit and distribute snacks [backpacks of food?] until 3:40. Then the teacher can walk the kids to my room by 3:45 where they're greeted by our smiling, timely tutors. This should be twice weekly (M/Th), targeting the same kids, using a range of signed-up-in-advance pre-qualified "tutors" (and pulling other teachers to monitor while I transition into the M/Th senior-IB SAT teacher come September 10th -- in time for the November 4 exam; speaking of which, we need to seek the necessary $10,000). When ETC gets wings (come January), we could run it from two labs simultaneously -- or, at the very least, open my room up to a M/W group AND a separate T/Th group (incorporating even more teachers and tutors and elementary students), displacing CRCL to some larger space... the choir room? Tuesdays and Wednesdays will have to be sacrosanct -- ONLY for CRCL's nucleus.

CRCL board meetings are Tuesday roundtables from 3:40-4:30 (while Board Game Club thrives in an adjacent room w/another teacher) -- literally seated around one table. J and C at the helm of an agenda (for Wednesday's meeting, next week's meeting, the monthly projects), their own ideas/concerns, P and L reporting to them on ETC, other CRCL sub-components (R's Film Night, October's Reservoir Panel, January's AfAm Program Committee). Each strand will need a Chair, and we'll need a secretary to take/distribute minutes (via jimhillcrcl@gmail.com) and present thank-you notes from the previous week's meetings, plus a treasurer to keep me sane. I'm not saying "parliamentary procedure," but a gavel feels only appropriate for J and C to share. And definitely a "one-strike, you're out rule" for Tuesdays. Let Wednesdays go where they will (guest speakers, debatable articles, chaos), but someone other than you, J, and me needs to start taking responsibility for organization. That's Tuesday. And one excursion / field trip per month.

Part II

2006-06-13T23:29:00.000-05:00

We’re in the library, kids are online, using computers, pulling encyclopedias, printing information, interpreting data, complaining about the work, arguing with group-mates, asking me good questions. We’re rocking it out. The librarian is a hassle, but that hardly matters for our purposes. Students divide and conquer, pooling and interpreting information. Summaries are written, references quoted. (We all know about plagiarism already!)

A day or two later, we’re back in class – and by now most of the kids have realized that we’re dissecting lines from a song, and that they’re holding the lyrics in their hands. What the order of events exactly was, no one knows for sure, but at some point I played the song for them. Students gave outstanding oral presentations on their decades. Here’s the key: the class had better be taking notes (especially when I highlight the important components from the back of the room by the world map) because there is going to be an open-note test on all this information. When each day ended (because we do lots of different activities in my course, we only had 30 minutes per day for presentations, so they lasted for several days), I’d play “We Didn’t Start the Fire” for them, and they’d follow along, singing the parts the could, realizing how much of the lyrics they understood and had learned about. It was eye-opening for all of us. Certainly a great way to start semester two.

Within a few weeks we’d written our own life’s highlights (similar to Billy Joel’s enumeration) with each group fine-tuning its own song, and some groups setting theirs to music and delivering jaw-dropping performances (both lyrically and musically). MoMo walked by my room to overhear a song.

We wrapped everything up with the open-notes test that I’d promised. Overall, kids learned a lot about the world around them – even if they didn’t memorize a host of facts; had a blast doing group work; took copious notes; stayed organized and informed; and excelled on a test. As late as the last day of school, students would shout “We Didn’t Start the Fire, Mr. KP” when I’d get too wild in class. Or they’ll shout, “JFK blown away, what else do I have to say!”

And I smile. Because kids’ll do that. “By god the old man could handle a spade / Just like his old man.”

Part I

2006-06-13T23:26:00.000-05:00

An Effective Unit: (800 words)

Describe an assignment, unit, or lesson that was particularly effective. Why was it effective?

A unit that always makes me smile is the most serendipitous (and that’s saying something for me!) unit of the year. I awoke the morning after Christmas break and had some vague notion about what we’d do in school that day/week/month, but – per usual – I hadn’t thoroughly planned anything. Then, for a change, I showered. And I started singing Billy Joel’s ode to modern world history, “We Didn’t Start the Fire.”

Granted, this project could’ve (probably should’ve) fallen flat on its ass, but my setup was good. It must’ve been. I mean, it really must’ve been because I was able to successfully teach “Goodnight Saigon” in our final week of the school year (during our war unit), cribbing entirely off student interest from “We Didn’t Start the Fire.” That said, there are definitely elements I’ll change for next year (mostly involving my preparedness to teach the lesson for maximum student benefit rather than for teacher survival).

I probably introduced the unit, thinking it’d be a quick one-off. Just something to occupy a 90-minute block and maybe some time as homework for the kids. Oh boy did that not happen!

In the first five minutes, I split the kids into groups of 4-5 and assigned each group a decade (40s, 50s, 60s, 70s, 80s – something I’ll change for next year is more evenly splitting the work by decade and group, because the song is so light on the 70s and so heavy on the 60s, et cetera). I explained what I expected of them (“Use the internet; find the words to ‘We Didn’t Start the Fire.’ [I didn’t say whether it was a song or a poem or whatnot.] Look up the terms from your decade. All of you are expected to do research. You will be graded for individual as well as group effort.” That sort of bullshit. Again, something I’ll more effectively prepare – say, in rubric form, next year plus, I could always prepare the lyrics for them in advance… naaahhh), then we were off to the library. Going to the library, as it always is, was clearly the worst part of the project. This was not my fault in the least. This was because our librarian is a insert alliterative expletives here. She screams (and I do mean screams) at people – students, teachers, parents – for insignificant minutiae. I hate being around her and in the library; of course, the students feel the same. Which is a shame because teaching kids to enjoy libraries is part of my mission. I am digressing.

Failure Blog: An Ode to Mixed Metaphors and The Rambling Man (900 words)

2006-06-12T23:45:00.000-05:00

A failure: not getting Sarah a job at my high school. That’s an unfortunate blight on the year. Something to learn from surely.

It’s easier for me to write about failure than success – the latter being so ill-defined and the other so haunting for we dedicated teachers. My English Tutoring Club (ETC) was a failure. Maybe not a crash-burn-explode-there-goes-the-city-block abomination, but it hardly hovered before it sputtered and stalled. So I yanked the plug. (Because I had many other, much more successful ventures demanding my attention. Austin asked me today about my Board Game Club; I’d forgotten about that club and the Tuesdays we’d shared. Tangent: My memory has been completely and worrisomely sucking lately. Reason: I’m fucking exhausted to the core of my being. “I can’t remember faces / Don’t remember names.” That’s for Mason Cole.)

We mocked ETC, we did, students and I – for its undefined focus, for its “let’s have t-shirts slogans,” for its general worthlessness. But ETC’ll soar next year; I developed a revival plan as soon as I realized it was faltering: Mo and I will co-pilot it (failure #1 – it necessitated too much for me to coordinate alone – as he puts it: sometimes you can throw another ball in the air, and sometimes you have to take a pass) and we will incorporate ETC under our Civil Rights & Civil Liberties (CRCL) agenda (failure #2 – inconsistent core student group, poor student leadership, too few available [and helpful!] outside resources. [A “helpful” resource is one willing to give money/resources/people/assistance with assured reliance and relatively little hassle for a teacher working full-time plus.]) So now we will be covered on all grounds thanks to CRCL’s umbrella. Also, we have former-Governor Mabus’s blessing.

Our students point-blank asked him if he’d support a campaign to change the name of the Ross Barnett Reservoir, and he said no. His rationale: Spend your energy combating real-time injustice not symbols of injustices past. He didn’t want us pouring our energy into a failing cause that wouldn’t really improve the status quo. His suggestion: Peer tutoring. He nailed it, and though ETC already had a new mission, now it had wings and a blessing – okay, fine, “a prayer.” Wings and a prayer. [By the way: Former Secretary of State Dick Molpus wholeheartedly supports student efforts to change the Reservoir’s name; and you know Mo and I are too insert flattering yet backhanded compliment here to turn our students around now. They are righteously indignant about that reservoir… Further information: Andy Mullins stood with Ray Mabus on the “fix something more meaningful” line, and we’ve yet to ask former-Governor Winter.] I say: Both. ETC and CRCL together.

But this isn’t what I want to talk about. I want to talk about AK. AK was a soft-spoken 4^th-period honors freshman whom I failed. Sure, he earned a 60% or whatever – but I failed him. I had him so many times, and not once did I actually win. This will be involved.

I had his mother on speed-dial. I called her. She came to conferences. She held up her end of the bargain. She forced him to stay after school. In my classroom. She forced him to attend tutoring sessions, CRCL, and ETC meetings when I asked her to, but even with all those extra hours – even with all that extra exposure to me and my ways – I failed to meaningfully connect with him. He thought I was unfair, boring, mean, stupid, and a waste of his time. He slept (often in the most uncomfortable-looking positions one might imagine) at every opportunity, never volunteered an answer all year, rarely had any homework to submit, hardly touched handouts, contributed only to one group project.

And here’s the kicker: He’s smart. Not smart as in “oh boy, that kid sure has a lot of potential,” but smart as in actively smarter than most of his peers but too stubborn to try at all. He’s a fluent reader (his mom tells me all about the words he looks up and the books that he reads for his own pleasure), but I could never get him to do anything for class. I don’t know what to make of him. To be honest, he reminds me of myself a bit, but I sure as hell hope I was never that rude or arrogant to my teachers. He thinks he’s already got a career in the pros and a million dollars in his pockets. Why the hell does he need my class anyway?

He’ll acknowledge me in the hall with a “wassup Mr. Khaki Pants” with his head bowed and his feet shuffling, and I can always tell that he’s thinking something intelligent and gone. Not least because his mother reports back to me the thrilling dinner conversations that CRCL had sparked at his home. But only once did he and I engage in such dialogue. And to be honest, I remember the moment of interaction more than the content. [There goes the memory again!]

So there’s my failure: one kid at a time. I’m not sure I got anywhere with AK, and I poured in a lot of myself (relative to other students, I mean). By no means did I not go “above and beyond” (as Joe Sweeney terms it). This is a failure of success, not a failure of effort. And I failed AK. I wonder if they’ll remove him from the honors program. Never in my life have I felt more like Ozzie Osborne… incoherent and incompetent…

It Begins (Again)

2006-06-02T21:11:00.000-05:00

Last night was great: Meredith saved my ass (and probably Mary's too) with her 2:1 pre-Praxis II math tutorial. These were concepts that I hadn't thought about in eight or more years (I last multiplied matrices in 1996!), and Meredith really brought the math alive, explaining answers and defining terms. I could've gone on for hours! Giddy with math love. It occurs to me how great life would be if I could live my life being intensely tutored in fascinating subjects. I would love to learn Latin or Italian -- or study psychology or philosophy in a 2:1 or even 3:1 setting. I would love to be tutored! The things we learn about ourselves when we least expect to...

Then Sarah and I drove Robbie and Mary to a dinner-in-progress at Old Venice Pizza. A definite good move on MTC's part: bringing first- and second-years together immediately. Talking with James, Chris, Hunter, Mary, and intern Molly brought back memories and fired me up!

I hope this summer means more time to blog -- in addition to all the crazy projects surrounding me. AND I'M MARRYING SARAH IN A MONTH! :)

"Unrealistic Expectations"

2006-06-01T20:19:00.000-05:00

Up before 5, packing, a nearly three-hour drive, some food, a class, catch-up notes, enrichment planning, an apartment hunt, moving in, an eleventh-hour Gloria Steinem Leadership Institute application, faxing fun, catching the tail end of Ms. Monroe's class for the first-years. Then, at the buzzer, Ben attempted to answer the "why people quit Teacher Corps" question. His analysis: Unrealistic expectations. He spoke specifically about Ari Glogower and Reggie Quinn, encouraging first-years to read their blogs. When I raised my hand to defend them, he asked me to blog it out...

Facts:

(1) Teaching is hard. Yay teachers!
(2) Teaching as a first-year teacher in an under-performing district with only a two-month crash-course certification is hard. Yay Teacher Corps!
(3) Teaching 3 English courses to 139 different students (93 of whom are "honors" students) in a school with three Teacher Corps peers, a boatload of helpful teachers, and a progressive supportive principal is hard. Yay me!
(4) Teaching a foreign language (an elective students are often forced to take) from an isolated portable as the only Teacher Corps member at an inner-city school is spectacularly harder. Yay Sarah DeGraaf!
(5) Teaching math skills to 184 middle-school students is far harder still. And illegal. Yay Ari Glogower!
(6) Teaching physics and every math course offered at your school when everyone wants to fire you for giving homework and grades is fucking insane. Yay Reggie Quinn!

My Analysis:

Expectations quickly confront reality, and people adjust within the week. Whether you thought you'd fail or succeed hardly matters when the rubber meets the road -- it's how you drive from there on. Then-general Eisenhower famously said that he'd plan and he'd plan and he'd plan, but once the battle began, the plans went out the window. Everyone's expectations are unrealistic. You won't know what it's like to only have 17 books -- until you only have 17 books. And the door closes when the bell rings.

The problem is support. People often ask MoMo and me what the "secret formula" for our extracurriculars was. Our answer is teamwork: 2 teachers, support, and a target group of students. Our target students were IB kids. Our support system was never-ending: significant others, administrators, building teachers, MTC, Ben Guest, family, friends. But, at the end of the day, the biggest factor at Jim Hill was that we each had the other. When I was down, he was up; when he was down, I was up -- and we balanced our act, pushing the ball forward, accelerating the learning curve of a first-year teacher by carrying the other.

Support: Someone to ping-pong ideas with. An intellect. Someone to actively pull you when you're dead weight. A friend. Someone to kick your ass into gear when you want to quit. A coach. Someone to make you feel that what you do every day is worth it. Is good. Matters. The easiest way to ensure this is to place two Teacher Corps members together. Add TFA, add more energetic young blood, insert significant others, add a baby. And suddenly you have life and purpose whereas before you only found frustration, angst, and resentment. They quit because they were abandoned on a day-to-day basis. Sure, Ben Guest is always a phone call away -- but who matters most is the person just down the hall. And when no one is there, everything else starts looking a whole lot better.

In conclusion, I'd rather plan for tomorrow than talk about yesterday. And tomorrow is going to be a doozy...

The Knot

2006-05-09T00:52:00.000-05:00

Marrying Sarah July 4 near Kitty Hawk, North Carolina, USA.

I've Said It Before, and I'll Say It Again:

2006-04-25T22:44:00.000-05:00

College was the best ten years of my life... Go Blue!

Praxis Advice

2006-04-23T16:11:00.000-05:00

The Praxis I is so easy that you will feel offended, insulted, and angry (at yourself for missing more than two questions). You will pass with flying colors and wonder for many moons: "What kind of idiot can't pass this test?" And then you will meet those people when you start teaching in the public school system. You will subsequently cry, rend your clothing, and disavow solid food.

The Praxis II tests can be a bit trickier -- depending on your major. As an English major, teaching English, the Praxis II in English was a cake walk (much, much, much, MUCH easier than the English Lit GRE required for a PhD program). But, I'll be taking the Praxis II in math this summer and am concerned about that one -- my background not being particularly math-oriented. Ben'll arrange study groups in early June.

So, if you're taking the test in your field, you'll have no problems. If you're stretching into new domains, I'd recommend you check www.ets.org (Praxis II Test Details, Test Preparation, Tests at a Glance, Subject Assessments, and then just look for the name of the Content Test that you'll be taking). Honestly, though, don't sweat it: Mississippi's standards are appallingly low...

Hedge Funding Schools?

2006-04-23T14:59:00.000-05:00

One of the best articles I've read in months... And my response to it and a friend:

This is necessarily a long hodge-podge. Please read it through. On the one hand, I know you're busy; on the other hand, I want to do justice to the issues.

I'm familiar with "Success for All." Very mixed feelings. As an educator I'm torn. I hate scripted programs (especially in an English classroom) because they hog-tie an effective, progressive teacher like me; yet I adore The Princeton Review's scripts because they demand high-caliber teachers from the get-go. I believe more strongly in getting great teachers than in finding great programs to be run by shitbox teachers. My cohort is split about similar programs that they've been forced to implement this year at their schools. Consult their Blogs for their opinions.

If you wanted more information on the "phonics" vs. "whole language" approaches to teaching reading, check out the Reading Wars in California that have been waging for 20-30 years. [Also, what do you know about the Barksdale Reading Institute? They've poured millions (30?) into Mississippi over the past 3 years and have seen little encouraging results. I've met the director, and he's frank if depressing when he says that they've done the best job imaginable, but that the kids need too much.]

The biggest issue is sustaining any growth (such as Greenblatt has experienced) throughout the middle-school years. Programs can succeed with young children, but they fall off after 4th grade. It's bizarre, and the only rationale I buy is the "culture" excuse: students spend only 15% of their waking hours in a classroom (a school year is only 180 days, more than half of each school day is spent not during school hours, and some of every 7-hr school day is spent at lunch, in passing time, or at gym) and otherwise live 85% of their waking lives surrounded by peer pressure in a non-literate culture. One out of three American adults is functionally illiterate; that's insane, and it's much higher in these impoverished communities. Think about it: Ever seen someone blow past the "Please wait to be seated" sign at a restaurant? Ever seen someone look at a picture and order a "Number 3" off the MickeyD's menu? Why don't poor people file for an income tax refund? Because they can't read.

Another issue is money. Greenblatt acknowledges that it's not simply throwing money at a problem that will solve it. And he's right. But with so much mismanagement in education and so much red tape in politics, the money (especially a measly $1000 per student) doesn't make it where it needs to be. Having software designers and money managers on-hand, to really run a school (an "educational business/institution") would solve many, many problems.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Reader, the biggest thing that would help Mississippi's public education right now would be placing a $1,000,000 endowment in the hands of the Mississippi Teacher Corps at the University of Mississippi. Anyone who could do that would be impacting the lives of tens of thousands of children. But people aren't exactly clamoring for that non-honor. They want to create something from scratch to stamp their name to -- like the Bill Gates Foundation or The Barksdale Reading Institute. But MTC is in a very fortuitous position because of its relationship with the university. If you're interested in learning more about what we do and why an endowment is necessary, Ben Guest is the man to address: bguest@olemiss.edu.

But let me tell you this: An endowment would create one of two opportunities.

1) The Teacher Corps would be able to train an additional 15 teachers every year. And every year, those same 15 teachers would be teaching in some of the country's worst schools. At 130+ students per teacher, we're talking about impacting the lives of an additional 2000 students per year. Every year.

2) Or the money would be used to extend the Teacher Corps for an optional third and fourth year. The money would pay for a specialist's degree and for National Board Certification -- for "continuing education" of the teacher -- both of which result in higher pay and better teachers. Plus, teacher retention rates jump dramatically if a teacher teaches for five consecutive years.

If such a large endowment is too much to wrap your head around, consider this: A $15,000 donation earmarked specifically for the making of a documentary film will provide the Teacher Corps with the marketing tool necessary to aggressively pursue the million-dollar donors. I've contacted a filmmaker this evening.

Can I put you on the Teacher Corps monthly email list?

To A Future Guest Speaker

2006-04-23T14:26:00.000-05:00

My name is Mr. Khaki Pants, and I am an English teacher at Name This High School. Insert Student Name Here is a student of mine, so I attended last night's Jabberwock along with Mr. MoMo (a math teacher at the high school).

To make a long story short, MoMo and I have co-founded a student-run Civil Rights & Civil Liberties Club at Name This. Our typical meetings are fiery discussions involving 10-20 students from 4-5pm on Wednesdays. Our president and executive board members usually stay until 6ish, and we have debated issues ranging from race, education, and nutrition to politics, Governor Ross Barnett, and student leadership. Recently we've had a spate of guest speakers (Senator John Horhn, local NAACP President Gus McCoy, Jackson Free Press columnist and rapper Kamikaze, Governor Ray Mabus, and others).

When we make an announcement for such speakers, we can pack the room with 70 students. We've taken a 40-student fieldtrip to Murrah's African American History program and have a budding partnership with St. Andrews. We are currently planning two fieldtrips: one to Ole Miss and Memphis for May 12-13 and one to Beth Israel for a Holocaust Memorial this Tuesday. We are funded by Jackson State University's Mississippi Learning Institute and have been in constant contact with the William Winter Institute for Racial Reconciliation.

Our nascent club is taking off, and we would love for you to be a part! We hope you'll consider speaking with our students on Day, Month Date, from 4-5pm. Your views on BET and the African-American woman and Black culture would be an excellent counterpoint to Kamikaze's feelings about Spike Lee's recent comments at Ole Miss and hiphop culture's blamelessness in the perpetuation of a degrading public image.

Normally, I would have Super Student (a student leader) compose this email, but with the school year winding down, and days ticking away, I couldn't wait until tomorrow -- plus she's been busy planning our fieldtrips, organizing our meetings, and learning vocabulary words. Again, our students would love to ask you questions and to hear you speak. I have cc'ed this email to Super Student and MoMo, and you should feel free to respond to any and all of us.

Thank you for your time,
KP (and MoMo and Super Student)

English II Writing Test

2006-03-21T22:51:00.000-06:00

My first period class walks to the gym. We sit for five minutes in the bleachers. We are told to go to the auditorium. Most of my first period class walks to the auditorium. We sit for five minutes in the broken seats (stage left, front section). We are told to go to an empty 100-hall classroom. Some of my first period class walks to the classroom. We sit for five hours. We go to lunch. We return to the same classroom. At some point, I assigned extra-credit work, graded a test, and freestyled for the students while they rotted before my eyes.
I take my car to the shop after school to finally replace the starter… then go to JSU to watch Chi Chi run with MoMo… then make dinner at MoMo’s and watch Scrubs… Degraaf says she wants to be a TPR teacher; I’m surprised…

Laughing, Inquiring, Digging

2006-03-01T22:19:00.000-06:00

Those will be my 3 themes for next year. I want to do a better job of finding material that my students will enjoy and will want to research and learn about after class. I had a few articles at the beginning of the year but quickly exhausted my supply and had NO TIME to find new articles and materials as the school year began.

Here I am, working out my mind on the page while students raise their hands to ask me questions. I love 6^th period, but today is a day for (as my NELP persona would have it) FREEDOM. Ironically enough, I’m teaching Cosby, Spike Lee, and Brown v. Board…

We had our initial TPR meeting with students this morning. I’m psyched; I charged them with the responsibility of accepting this $1500 opportunity and challenging themselves to improve.

Daniel’s coming this afternoon to sit for a JPS lunch and to speak with our CRCL kids.

Preston’s hard at work planning his foreign-language fair.

It’s a good day so far. A beautiful day, in fact, to be outside with a beautiful woman. To take a walk with a book and picnic on a hill. To live deliberately. With a song playing overhead and a kiss in the air. A good day so far. How New England of me…

Watching 16 fourteen-year-old freshmen actively reading a packet on Black history: highlighting, underlining, interacting with the text. Quietly and diligently working. Focused and intent.

Hannibal anybody?

2006-02-28T20:02:00.000-06:00

In light of my previous Blog, I must now add the following.

There Never was a Better Premise...

2006-02-28T00:15:00.000-06:00

"A pair of strangers, liberal high-school teacher Ralph Hinkley and right-wing FBI agent Bill Maxwell, have a close encounter in the Southern California desert one night with "little green men", who give our heroes a red superhero suit. The suit works only for Ralph, and the two, accompanied by Ralph's cute lawyer girlfriend Pam, reluctantly team up to battle criminals. Problems ensue when Ralph loses the suit's instruction book, so he had to master the suit's powers on his own."

Required Blog: Procedures

2006-02-20T21:38:00.000-06:00

Journal Writing.

Every student keeps a journal in his or her class's labeled & decorated milkcrate stored beneath the front side table near the door. Upon entering the classroom, students grab their journals, distribute a few to some friends/neighbors, and then sit in their assigned seats before the bell rings (a strictly monitored and clearcut tardy policy is key).

A different (and I like to think provocative/entertaining/informative) prompt is written on the same part of the board every day. Students always know where to look, and always know what to do. The pens come out, the bell rings, the announcements blare, the students scribble in their journals. Sometimes I provide a word limit, sometimes time restrictions. Sometimes the energy is palpable; sometimes I've completely missed the mark.

I walk the room, greet individuals, monitor progress, distribute papers, etc.

When students finish, they copy down their HW from the front board, they correct the day's DOL, and define or study vocabulary words. The timer rings, the journals are methodically passed back to the milkcrate and re-shelved beneath the side table. It is then that the Khakied Wonder opens his fat yap: Review! Preview! Relevance! And we're off discussing today's lesson, correcting the DOL, and learning, learning, learning...

Students have a safe place to write, students practice writing from a prompt, the teacher has time to get organized. Also, this really helps to block up the time in 90-minute blocks. Occasionally, I don't have a prompt on the board, and the kids know to expect a pop quiz on these days. The routine works, but the difficulty I'm struggling with is burning the kids out on writing -- because, on the one hand, they know that I am not (and cannot!) reading/grading everything they write, and on the other hand they start to resent the "pointless" daily writing.

I remind them about state test requirements and the importance of writing fluid prose, but I still feel that I could be doing more to teach them writing -- instead of just setting them loose to write and to "figure it out for themselves" essentially. I'm starting to pull the ropes in and to focus them more on paragraphing, sentence structure, etc. Next year, I'll try to tackle these issues in September, but time has its way of slipping away...

A Follow-up Email

2006-02-14T19:46:00.000-06:00

Let it be known that I sent the previous email (see prior blog entry) last night. Then, today, I got my 25th student in English III. And I bet you thought I was just being facetious! MLI responded encouragingly, so I ripped off the following email as my prep-period slipped away this morning:

Please share my comments with whomever you please, but bear in mind that they are only the observations of a first-year teacher -- and an outsider at that. I hope that my criticisms/insights improve students' Summer Reading experiences.

MoMo may disagree with me here (we've been going round and round on this issue), but I think "dumbing down" the required texts would be a wonderful (though probably not necessary) first step. Just as you and I will never truly appreciate a physics dissertation, we cannot expect sixth-grade readers to self-motivate and comprehend text at an advanced level on their own. Plus, how much sweeter it would be to have students actually ENJOY their Summer Reading books (e.g., My IB freshmen LOVED _The Outsiders_. Recognize, though, that this book is often read in a sixth- or seventh-grade curriculum).

Given that altering the book list is probably beyond your reach, I highly recommend weekly reading group meetings because there's strength in numbers and unity of purpose; structured reading assignments (week by week, day by day); group activities to involve the students in what they are reading and who they are reading about; opinion pieces to write so that students can interact with the stories as thinking INDIVIDUALS; student-oriented, teacher/parent-led introductions so that the books are well-received in advance of reading. Basically, TEACH THE BOOKS. Don't just drop them off in June and pick them up in August. Give Summer Reading value; visibly and constantly prioritize it, and students will come to value it as well. I leave room here for MoMo to soapbox on "valuing books" and "valuing a literary culture" (i.e., reading).

In my opinion, no more than 20% of Jim Hill's students read on grade level (and it's probably less than 15%); this includes all the IB students I've met. Shocking though it may sound, MCT, district, and NAEP scores mete out my observations. At present, Summer Reading is a well-intentioned but horribly supported and largely devalued experiment that preys upon the inabilities of our students. Every English teacher knows how to "play the Summer Reading Game" when it comes to buffering test scores with fluff grades. How else could someone who receives three test-grade zeros pass English for the term/semester/year? And this, by the way, only further confounds students' already tenuous grasp on mathematics: 0+0+0=84.

The bell just rang,
Mr. KP

An Open Letter -- Re: Summer Reading

2006-02-14T19:41:00.000-06:00

The Mississippi Learning Institute at Jackson State University solicited my opinion on the district's mandatory Summer Reading Program. The parent-coordinator is attempting to create a Summer Reading Support Group for rising sophomores. She inquired; I responded:

Since you've CC-ed me, I'll respond with my observations -- recognizing that they are only my observations and that they do not represent the entire school.

I teach one class (24 students today, maybe more tomorrow) of eleventh-grade English. In my opinion, most of these kids read at or below an eighth-grade reading level. Maybe one of these 24 students read the required three summer reading books; maybe 3-4 students read ONE of their required summer reading books in its entirety. Test scores were abysmal. No one passed; the highest grade was a 54 (I believe). Summer-reading projects and book reports were awful as well -- most were blatantly plagiarized off the internet. Again, these are only my observations from my one class of regular eleventh graders. [It should be noted that I currently have several students in my class who transferred to Jim Hill in August and who were exempt from summer-reading requirements.]

Students certainly lack books for summer reading (but that's what libraries are for). The larger problem seems to be that the books assigned (_The Chosen_, _The Crucible_, etc.) are not even remotely accessible to culturally-illiterate vacationers at an eighth-grade reading level (What is a Jew? Who was Hitler? Where is Massachusetts?). Students need teachers to learn -- to make literature and history comprehensible and relevant. Summer reading fails because the assignments are not enforced at home (It's not as if parents were reading books alongside their children -- as a teacher would.), students have no daily incentive to read, and students have nothing external to keep them on track (i.e., reading 20 pages per day) -- and little intrinsic motivation to read "boring books" during the hot summer. The students are asked to do something very difficult for them and given little (if any) assistance. Instead, they are handed comprehension tests. In my opinion, the rare child who passes these tests is either very bright or has made ready access of sparknotes.com, etc.

I think you'll find that most rising sophomores read at a sixth-seventh grade reading level. Again, my opinion -- not fact. But here's your answer: could an average sixth-grader spend the summer COMPREHENDING _Fahrenheit 451_ or Elie Wiesel's historical reality or Anne Moody's vivid experiences? Not alone. Especially if he never tries.

I think your idea is a very good one. I hope this helps you; I'm sure it's nothing you don't already know,

Mr. Khaki Pants

P.S. I've CC-ed Mr. MoMo (the other outspoken Teacher Corps teacher at Jim Hill).

Expiration

2006-01-31T22:23:00.000-06:00

Today was "amazing" (to use the word I've most recently usurped from Mr. MoMo). [Incidentally, I get called "Mr. Mo" at least once a day...] But, today -- even with the original Mr. Mo out sick -- was, nevertheless, despite all obstacles and illusions to the contrary, amazing. From lows to highs...

Firstly, bad news of the day: Coretta Scott King's death. And the immediate updating of her biography. It's so odd how that happens; a woman dies and instantly the information is catalogued -- before she's even cold... Regardless, thankfully, I do not "lesson plan" per se, and so have plenty of freedom to incorporate her passing into our next class.

But, today brought better news: My best student trailed a Clarion Ledger reporter all day, sitting in on a city council meeting and working with him at the paper afterward. I've yet to speak with her, but the reporter seemed thrilled with her interest and his role. If I'm not mistaken, she'll have an article published in tomorrow's paper... Score 1 for Mr. Khaki Pants.

2: Today was the first ever meeting of the Board Game Club (about which I could speak at length). Principally, the kids enjoyed Monopoly (two simultaneous game boards), Clue, and Mastermind. Boggle and Stratego were made ready for next week. My goal: to get these kids thinking critically and analytically, using math and strategic thinking skills to beat a game. Let's hope my chess/checkers/backgammon boards arrive soon. And I cannot wait for a 6-way RISK war! Rule #1: no calculators when playing Monopoly... argh!

In conclusion, let's go to first period, right after the announcements: I grow tired of hearing the same "we can succeed" bullshit day in and day out -- the constant promise of success, the constant vocalization of what it "means" to succeed, the ever-present pretense of understanding success. So, I whip out Emily Dickinson's "Success is counted sweetest / by those who ne'er succeed" and we're off to the races. And it is only by 3pm that I realize what my subconscious had done: I'd accidentally/intentionally found the poem that summarizes the contrast I've been harping on... Namely, in the suburbs no one speaks about becoming a doctor, lawyer, businessman, success, millionaire, etc. -- they just do it. It's an inevitability that no one really thinks hard about. It's assumed, and life moves on. But HERE, with "those who ne'er succeed," it's on every lip, at every turn.

Pet peeves of the week: (as heard in Mr. Khaki Pants' classroom)
1. "I can go to the bathroom?" [Is this somehow a question?]
2. "I be saying that..." [I now collect a penny each time I hear "I be." The class with the fewest pennies earns a pizza party (paid for with the other classes' pennies.]
3. "They was fittin to..." [Next on the penny collection list...]
4. "This book is boring..."
5. "This book be boring..."
6. "Boring."
7. "This book is not interesting."
8. "Interesting."

9. Persistent student complaints about any/everything.
10. My own shortcomings as a teacher: specifically, my lack of familiarity with literature, stories, biographies, articles, texts that are interesting to intelligent, inner-city, African-American ninth-graders who read at a seventh/eighth grade level.

Tired though I am, I'm excited by the prospect of tomorrow's Civil Rights & Civil Liberties meeting at Saint Andrews (the private school across town), involving Anna Quindlin's most recent editorial. Wowsers! [p.s. the response I heard on the radio was a resounding: "First is the worst; the worst is first." Anyone who understands what this means is welcome, nay, ENCOURAGED to explain...]

I'm gladdened, too, at Mr. MoMo's energetic tackling of "nutrition."

I'm wary of attending Thursday's "presentation" at Jackson State, whereat we Teacher Corps, alternate route philomaths are asked to speak, regarding traditional v. alternate route certification. Needless to say, the audience response will not be warm... ["First is the worst; the worst is first..."]

In conclusion (again), parent-teacher conferences next week, sex the week after, and away we go!

McCourt

2006-01-22T23:08:00.000-06:00

I should be writing songs and stories – playing with words and fiction – for the aesthete. Instead, I write Lesson Plans to entertain children, to educate the left-behind…

I try reading Teacher Man, but it makes my head spin: there are still so many plans, uncertainties, notes-to-self, and observations in my head, that to hear them coming from another’s lived experience is extremely confusing. I’m getting my memories and plans muddled with his. I’m confused about where my story stops and his starts or vice versa.

I have to put the book away until summer...

Slow-Mo Friday / "Go to College"

2006-01-20T21:59:00.000-06:00

Where I grew up, “everyone” wanted to be a doctor or a lawyer. Here, everyone wants to “succeed” so that they can “be a success” and “make lots of money.” Obviously the first is a hyper-exaggeration of the reality they’re surrounded by: rich parents, doctors up and down the block, etc. But the other is what? The exact opposite of everything they know – and nothing they could possibly understand; in short, nothing realistic…

Kids know that (according to their peer groups) they’re not supposed to care about what other people think, but they clearly do. I recall that (“back in my day”) the popular thing to do was to care about what others thought – to verbally and clearly fit it. Here, my students brag about not caring what others think of them. Yet, they obsess and brag about deodorant usage, hair brushing, new clothing, et cetera. Desperate to “fit in” despite their obstinate counter-claims.

Also, students here are obsessed with getting back to their “roots.” Getting to the core of who they are. Both ethnically (black, African, Native American, Asian, Latino, white) and geographically (my daddy’s from Louisiana, my grandma’s from the Delta, my mama’s from Chicago).

Aggression, defense. Physical strength.

Classes are half-attended; there’s a basketball game today. Against Provine…

Q: “What do you plan on doing after school?”

A: “Go to college”

Q: “Which college?”

A: “College.”

“Why do you want to be a businessman?”

“To be successful.”

“What does that mean?”

“To be a success.”

“Okay, but doing what?”

“Being a businessman.”

“And what does a businessman do?”

“Walk around in a suit, with a briefcase and ride in limos.”

“And what does a businessman do with his time? How does a businessman make his money?”

“Do business and things.”

“Like what?”

“Making money and being successful!”

“How?”

“Selling things to people for millions of dollars.”

“Good. How does he buy the things that he sells for millions? Where does he get the money from?”

“I don’t know. Working—“

“Where?”

“Burger King. Saving up.”

“Saving millions?”

“I guess.”

And so it goes…

Sometimes it is best to pretend you didn’t see something (the kid flicking his wrist like an NBA star, sliding his eyes to check my reaction). Other times, you need to demonstrate the “eyes in the back of your head” as a teacher, seeing and hearing everything – showing that you supervise and care...