The Squeakyness of the Lord

I am three weeks into school and am finally starting to feel like I am not drowning in all of the planning, prepping, and praying that old teachers forget to tell you about. I am obviously in control as I have now limited myself to one nap a week after school instead of the three necessary to survive the first week. I’ve had some successful lessons and I’ve had some flops. Apparently school uniforms are not as controversial as I thought and eighth graders are not yet ready to admit that Disney made some mistakes in their version of the Pocahontas story. Live and learn. Screeching chalk on the chalkboard is a guaranteed chatter-stopper and no matter how old kids are, they still think that a teacher can’t tell they haven’t read the assigned reading if they give convincing answers like, “Well, I think it’s a great book.” When asked what part was good, “Oh, that part right at the end.” Sneaky. But the most important lesson I’ve learned so far: under NO circumstance should I stay after school on Wednesdays. Wednesdays are choir and theater practice which are conveniently held two doors down from my room. Choir was bearable for the first few weeks. It gave me a chance to catch up on the poppy “Gather” book church songs (you know what I’m talking about… We are Marching, Taste and See, all the good classics) after a few year hiatus. But then the unthinkable happened, the choir teacher added recorders to every song. Recorders! No one can tolerate the sound of recorders. They are squeaky and shrill and generally unpleasant. “Taste and seeeeee…. SQUEAK… the goodness of the Lord (piercing whistle) the goooooood (SQUEEEEEAK) ness of the Lord.” I can’t say that helps me pray. Except maybe for it to stop. Theater class isn’t much better. I am not joking when I say in two weeks they have yet to make it through one song. Apparently it is some complex choreography they are working on (all I hear is stomping) because they are going to now that dance backwards and forwards. Maybe I’ll be able to jump up on stage and perform with them… with a recorder.

Have a nice trip... see you next fall

Fall is in the air. I’ve always liked fall. In school when we had to say our favorite season, I always said summer because that’s what everyone else said; only the teacher would talk about fall as a great chance for new beginnings and the inevitable school metaphor of the “clean slate.” Maybe it’s because I am the teacher now, or just not as influenced by peer pressure, but fall really is my favorite season. For some reason it is a season of nostalgia for me. I can’t help but think of the high school Homecoming dance (over-hyped at the time), decking out in blue and orange (though the football team never came through) and cross country races (absolute hell). Why these things seem so great now I’m not sure, but it’s a feeling I can’t help. I get excited for Halloween and harvest-type decorations though I really never liked Halloween due to an unfortunate My Little Pony costume malfunction and refuse to put scarecrows anywhere near my living space. I know I can’t back it up and I know it’s based on feelings that have no real foundation— but I like fall and I nominate it as the best, and most undervalued, season.

An Un-recommendation

I have a problem of getting too involved with books. As an English major, I have high expectations for the story and the storyteller to be insightful, didactic, and at the very least, grammatically correct. I also have the problem of needing to finish every book I start, no matter how terrible, to be sure I understand its exact level of horror. As a teacher and an English major, I have even higher expectations that books about or for teachers are honest and helpful. I’ve come to realize that these two may be a lethal combination. There are not many teacher books that are well-written, worth-reading, and honest representations of the school institution. I will note a few exceptions just to show how well-versed I am in education literacy – Lisa Delpit, Herb Kohl, and Jonathan Kozol have all been instrumental in my teaching beliefs and even if I don’t believe everything they say, I can recognize them to be important members participating in the arena of education literacy. I cannot say the same for Rafe Esquith’s 2003 book There Are No Shortcuts. This book was recommended to me by a friend saying that though Rafe (as his students call him) has some extreme practices she wouldn’t encourage me to take up, she thought it would be inspiring for me as I entered the classroom. Let me tell you, the only other situation in which I yell in frustration at the media is when John Stossel reports on education issues, well and the whole No Child Left Behind fiasco, but to some extent I just tune that nonsense right out. This man is not only insane, (as in admitting to going $30,000 in debt for classroom supplies and sleeping only 4 hours a night) he also proves himself highly vindictive and hypocritical within his own writing. He creates pseudonyms for co-workers that are childish and insulting: Miss Busy-as-a-Bee, Miss Plug, and Mr. Helpless. He becomes so distraught by a former student talking negatively about him with her middle school peers that he refuses to write her a recommendation saying, “I told her my arm and shoulder were too sore to write a letter for her – they were strained from the knives I had been trying to pull out of my back.” Yet after reporting stories like these he claims Atticus Finch to be his hero for his integrity and morality. I’m fairly certain, fictional though he was, Atticus would never have titled someone “Mr. Helpless.”

But the thing that bothers me most about this book is that very few people agree with my analysis of it. My search on Google for more ammunition against Rafe was futile. My only solace is the few reviews on online bookstores hiding between high praise and lists of friends and family for whom the book should be a gift. So I came to you my blog-reading friends to make my case. You don’t have to agree, but at least I got it out. Just like Atticus.

Apple *Welcome Back* Apple

It’s that time of year again… back to school time and I definitely have the jitters that come along with this very emotional time of year. I really feel exactly like a kid with tomorrow being the big day. I have my backpack bursting with new school supplies, though this time it is clipboards and a desk organizer instead of nine different colored folders, I have my lunch packed (left-overs in pretty Tupperware), and I even picked out my special back to school outfit (not too grown-up, it was purchased by my mom). Does this feeling ever leave? Do people in a non-school setting feel the desire to get all new office supplies when September approaches? I would take a survey on that, but now that I think about it, I don’t know very many people outside of the institution of school. Interesting… there must be some study about that… teachers breed teachers? Teachers befriend only teachers? Teachers are taking over every other possible job path? I’m sure there’s some reason. Anyway, there is something exciting about the beginning of the year. The mundane tasks haven’t set in yet. The students are still unknown and endearing. And most importantly, I have four bright, shiny clipboards. Obviously school success is weighed in clipboards and I’m all set.