So, I just looked at the updated syllabus for class. I discovered that we have a new project: a professional development plan for writing and the teaching of writing. My first reaction was "Crap. Another project." But, after I read through, I realized that this has the potential to be the most useful project of the entire semester.

See, after implementing serious structural changes to the 11th and 12th grade English classes at our school this year, we quickly discovered that more changes were needed. There are students, juniors, who did not write one essay in the entire first semester. We're supposed to be preparing them for the future, but because of SAT prep, we're not. So, the majority of our department agreed that rather than direct SAT prep, we need to focus on essay writing. If kids can write a solid essay, they're going to succeed on the SAT.

Unfortunately, I suspect that some of our teachers are still resistant to this idea. So, I need to figure out a way to use this project to convince them. The administration is completely supportive, so if my plan is good, I'm guessing I can get it through.

So, while another project overwhelms me in a lot of ways, I'm also really excited about the possibilities the end result could produce.

The First Class

I can remember being told that my first year of teaching would be the worst. The absolute worst. One professor warned that we should keep a heft supply of tissues in the car, our best friend on speed dial, and plenty of liquor in the fridge. I prepared myself for hell. Hell in a small school in central Maine where I would teach 8th grade. I'm pretty sure that the day before I started my first job I uttered the words, "They're going to eat me alive" more than once.

I'll admit that I'm never, ever going to forget that first year. It had some pretty bad days, but those are almost all forgotten now, three years later. Instead, I think everyday about how much I learned as a teacher and person, and about how much I love and miss those kids.

Every year, I think about my days at CMS. I think about the connections I made with kids, and some that I still have. I think about how eager they were to learn what I had to teach. I wonder, more than anything, whether I'll ever find a class like that again.

I know that those kids will always be special; they were the first class all my own. It was a small class, and I had them 80 minutes everyday. But, there was more than that. I am a person who believes in fate or destiny or whatever you want to call it. And, as such, I truly believe that I was meant to have that class, that year.

I'm not sure I'll ever have a class I connect with like that again. A few have come close, but there's always something missing, and I can't figure out what it is. Maybe when I do, I'll figure out if I can recreate the feelings of that first year.

Seven days ago ...

Seven days ago I cut my hair and now, no one will talk to me. I don’t get it; it’s like I’m invisible. I used to walk into rooms and every eye would be on me. No one, not even the people who hate me could look away. Now, I walk in and they just continue their conversations or work without a blink. It’s crazy. Just crazy.

I thought that cutting my hair would make people notice me even more than they already did. But, it hasn’t. How can they not see that this adorable bob has enhanced my beauty. I’m dying over here with no idea what to do.

I traded in my pink braids for a normal do, and now I’m nothing. I used to get laughed at, but at least people noticed me. At least they knew I was there; how could they not with my neon hair? Now, I try to get the latest style, thinking people will notice right away that my hair is different and I get nothing.

This is lame. So lame. Maybe I should ask for a refund from the hairdresser. Probably won’t get it; cheap bastard. How can I get people to notice me again?

Maybe … just maybe, I should die it green and spike it. I could probably pull off a Mohawk. Then they’re have to notice me. No one behind me would be able to ignore that …

Lions and snow

March, no matter what the weather is, comes in like a lion for me every. single. year. It's busy, long, and mostly dreary. Coming back from February vacation is tough, because vacation is amazing. Preparing myself for the 6+ weeks until April break is torture.

This year, I'm extra stressed out. In the next two weeks, I have two projects due for my grad school class. I need to finish my multigenre project, which I feel blah about and I need to prepare a 10ish minute book talk to share virtually. On top of that, I have to teach school and manage home stuff. It's overwhelming right now. Once I get started, it will be fine, but I do need to get on top of these things. I'm almost finished with my multigenre project, and I finished my book talk book like a month ago, so it's just the actual video I need to prepare. Actually, I may have just gotten an idea.

Sometimes I forget just how much the kids I teach have going on. I remember being a student, but much like the stress as a teacher, I forgot about it and held on to only the best things. As stressed out as I am, I think my students probably are as well. In different ways, perhaps, but still stressed out and overwhelmed.

If I can make it through March, it's a downhill slide to June. To summer. To freedom. To more grad school classes. Sigh ... I blame it on the bleak weather.

Creative Writing Journals

The day from hell.

Sometimes, on days like today, I wonder how the heck my students can even get up and come to school in the morning. They come to us with so much baggage - stuff that we don't even know about most of the time. They come from homes where parents are distant or uninvolved. Sometimes parents are too involved. The come to us from homes where parents have left or died. They come to school every morning with all of this, and I know I sometimes forget that.

I forget, when they won't stop talking or are irritating me, all of the stuff they deal with everyday. I talk about my responsibilites all of the time but I often fail to recognize just how much some of these kids have gone or go through. More than ever students need to come to school for emotional and educational support. Sometimes the cases that are most frustrating are the ones that need us most, and I'm not always very good at giving them my best. I want to be, and I should be, but I'm not always that teacher.

I have to ask myself, on a day like today, how much of education is parenting and how much is teaching? Are the two different or have they essentially become one in the same?

Is Pakistan a religion?

This is just too good NOT to share it.

Today, in English 9, the students practiced two very basic skills. They were asked to 1. use the internet and databases to find out information on a country from which their ancestors come so that they could 2. write a paragraph using 5 facts. Pretty simple, right?

Well, one young lady was unsure of where her ancestors hail from. I told her to just choose a country, because the goal was that they researched and wrote. So she says, "India. That's a country right? Or is it a continent?" That was funny number 1. I was actually impressed that she didn't choose somewhere like Mexico. Anyway ... she uses World Book Advanced to do her research.

She's a pretty chatty young lady, so I had to hush her several times. As I'm walking around to check their progress I read on her paper the following:

"Islam is on of the countries with the most Muslims."

I can't make this up, people. She wrote it. When I pointed it out, it took her a moment to register the problem. She smiled, laughed, and fixed it. 1 minute later she says:

"Is Pakistan a religion?"

Everyone, and I mean everyone, in the room busted out laughing at her. Thank God she laughed at herself too. And that she figured out it's a country.