Standardized tests don’t usually inspire laugh-aloud moments, but this test proved the exception. I’ll be curious to see the test results. The whole grade took the test so that we could compare various classes and groups, another tough hour for my crowd. I spend a lot of time giving tests that I know most or even all of my students will fail, tests written by others in order to collect data that should (and does) already exist. Will the appeal-for-divine-support strategy work? Probably not, but who knows.

Eduhonesty: He was taking the test seriously, anyway.

Whine, whine, whine.

A blog about education can easily skew toward the negative. I write about the crises and challenges. I write about long hours, crazy requirements, and administrative wackiness. Lately, I write about staggering amounts of government interference in administrative offices, classrooms and even lunchrooms.

I’d like to pause a bit and describe the end of my last day. Two girls who were former students ran up and just spontaneously gave me big hugs and told me how much they missed me. Three colleagues and I talked to a student and his mom about how he needed to step up his game, focus and do his work. I’m honestly not having much trouble with that student, though. In fact, he’s often a delight. I embrace my critical thinkers and this boy can think. He knows I believe in him and I think he responds accordingly. I’ve had to write him up. I’ve even contributed to the list of referrals that got him Saturday school. But he knows I am in his corner and if he marches to a different drummer, well, I’ve heard that drummer all my life.

At the end of the day, I handed out a fair number of Jolly Ranchers, some to the boy in trouble, his brother and cousin (both former students whose presence makes my day brighter) and some to the five girls I forced to stay after school to make up work. New government regulations say I am not supposed to give out candy during the school day, so I give out Jolly Rancher coupons for after school. You don’t necessarily need a coupon, but a coupon is redeemable for a Jolly Rancher after hours.

(I sometimes write coupons on the fly when I run out and this was a forgery that netted one boy a mini spelling lesson.)

After the kids had gone home, I talked to colleagues for awhile. I like my colleagues. I could name a few, past and present, whom I love. Teaching attracts interesting people. Teaching is one of the few paying refuges for would-be historians, archeologists, musicians and poets. The field draws in people who understand why the First World War mattered, people who draw maps for recreation, and people who create zombie apocalypse blogs for fun. The staff lunch room is filled with people who have hobbies even if they are often too busy to work on those hobbies during the school year. I don’t get quilting — I don’t have the patience — but I find quilters agreeable lunch companions.

Eduhonesty: This job can be enormously frustrating due to all the demands from higher-up, some of which are irrational and unproductive. But I can sit if I need to, I can walk around my room all day if I choose to (and I don’t much like sitting) and I have a sense that what I am doing matters. Some kids may end up with two babies by the age of 18 and no plans for further education, but others will achieve their goal to go into nursing or computer programming. I am one of the voices trying to make dreams into reality. I am working in a school where the dreams are sparse and expectations few, so the challenge proves daunting on some days.

But I like my job. On good days, I love my job.

Recent posts about the number of teachers leaving the field early miss an important point: These teachers are leaving for good reason. Many, many teachers have wearied of irrational attempts to teach to tests that are inappropriate for their students. They are tired. For whatever reason, they are also able to break their own rice bowls. They can walk away from teaching. They can enter another field or they can retire. Some take a reduced retirement and use that to supplement income from part-time employment.

The obvious loss from this brain drain can be seen in the classroom. First-year teachers try valiantly to fill in the gaps, only partially succeeding. The research shows that a couple of years are required to learn to effectively manage a classroom. Some people never learn to manage a classroom. Classroom management is learned on the job and many earnest, hard-working men and women don’t survive this trial by fire.

For anyone who doubts my assertion, try to imagine keeping twenty-some 13-year-olds in desks for 80 minutes (many schools are now using the longer blocks to teach English and math, in particular) when 5 of those kids have individualized education plans because they are in special education, 4 have Attention Deficit Activity Disorder, 2 of whom are not in special education, 7 speak marginal English although they are not in bilingual programs, and 8 or more aspire to be romantically involved with some kid sitting in the same room. Throw in a possible kid diagnosed with Oppositional Defiant Disorder and maybe one kid on the autism spectrum and you have an inner-city classroom that most long-term teachers have had at one time or another. These students may vary academically by as much as six years or more since many districts no longer separate students by academic ability levels. That’s “tracking” and tracking has fallen into disrepute due to our fear of misclassifying students and limiting their prospects. Current educational theory also supports — almost demands — regular group work in which students work with 1 to 4 partners, supposedly learning self-direction, accountability, and how to develop and share new ideas while providing peer affirmation.

It’s probably easier to herd 25 cats than it is to manage a classroom of 25 seventh graders. Twenty-five cats would leave their litter boxes in better shape than the boys’ bathrooms most of the time. They wouldn’t post mean comments on Facebook about each other. They wouldn’t use rubber bands to shoot folded paper or open paperclips. They wouldn’t chew wads of paper into small soggy messes to spit toward a neighbor. They would never hide the teacher’s remote after they were sent to the Dean for nonstop talking. (That was a good one. The culprit eventually found it in a bag a number of other students and I had searched previously. He’d been asking to search the lockers for me. If I’d been crazy enough to consider that plan for more than a nanosecond, what are the odds the remote would have been planted in some other kid’s locker? I’d say 100%. The best part was when the kid in question asked me for a reward for having found the remote.) Cat’s wouldn’t whine about the homework. They might not do the homework, but in an inner-city or severely-academically-challenged school, the kids often aren’t doing the homework either.

Oops. Getting off track here. I should note that the above craziness is not a daily occurrence, but the list is far from a comprehensive. There are so many ways to distract a class. Yesterday’s included putting blue tape over mouths by two students. When I had them reflect, one wrote “I did not safely put tape on my mouth.” The rubber bands are under control because they are an automatic detention now. Spit wads (not a problem in my class) were also put on the immediate referral list. Only one Facebook incident has impacted my classroom to date this year — it’s early — and the immediate bullying seems to have ceased. Tardiness and other distractions are also well in hand.

I love my Dean. I don’t bake as a rule, but at some point I will make that woman cookies. The right dean can make the whole year so much easier and more manageable.

Eduhonesty: New teachers are cheap. They are energetic, enthusiastic and hard-working. They usually are not as capable as their more experienced counterparts at the outset, though. They learn on the job. When too many experienced teachers leave early, a hallway may be filled with well-meaning newbies who lack the experience to mentor each other, in schools where the mentors have left to sell textbooks or plant begonias. The actual behavior of adolescents often stuns these new teachers.

I started at my current school seven years ago. I was one of twelve or thirteen new teachers then. None of them are left except me. That’s a lot of experience and professional development that simply exited the scene. In some cases, these teachers moved into higher-paying, more prosperous districts. Commonly, after a year or two in America’s educational disaster zones, many teachers find easier, more lucrative positions. That leaves our most desperate districts fighting the educational fight with a disproportionate number of first and second year teachers. The students who need the most experienced teachers consequently end up with the least experienced teachers.

Under the current system, I don’t see a fix for this problem. For those who stay in teaching, more money frequently equates with better working conditions. That better paycheck may also come with higher test scores, an ancillary win in these test-crazed times. For those who leave the field, the stress level suddenly plummets, as they no longer have to try to prepare kids for tests that are years beyond their actual learning levels. They no longer risk criticism for failing to do the impossible. They no longer have to figure out who is spitting soggy paper, not as easy a proposition as a reader might think. A teacher has to turn her back sometimes and street code prevents students from snitching.

I have to confess, I have days when I look forward to peacefully planting my begonias.

Total of meetings and conferences for today: Slightly over two hours.
Available planning time: Slightly under 15 minutes.
Some days I end up with more planning time, but this day cannot be considered unusual.

Nevertheless, I will be held responsible if I don’t have spiffy, fun lessons and a well-put together room with all my objectives and standards on the board. I have so much grading to do. I have so many parent calls to make. I have so much extracurricular activity to put together for students. Sigh.

Eduhonesty: My day provides an operational definition of drowning. All I can say is, I won’t be drowning next year. Atlas has decided to shrug.

But for now, I have parent calls to make.

Where can children get safe, regular physical activity? Recess and gym class spring to mind immediately. Despite this fact, states and school districts across the country have been cutting back on gym, recess and even afterschool sports. Time and money that might have gone to soccer, running track or playing with friends gets allocated instead to longer blocks of English and math, especially in districts where administrative jobs hinge on state test-score increases.

I am locked in battle out here. I have many fidgety, flighty students. They squirm. They seek endless bathroom breaks, anything to get out of their desks. Some take ADHD medications. I am sympathetic. I am also being watched. Eight administrators were in my room today watching. (At this rate, I may have to write a future post about teachers and generalized anxiety disorder. If admin keeps trooping in at this rate, I’ll end up medicating myself to get through the year. The kids and I will both be on drugs.)

I keep my students in their seats most of the time, the better to be ready for the next watcher. Yet studies show that regular exercise decreases anxiety and helps students focus, enabling them to concentrate more effectively and learn more easily. Children are not machines. Children are not adults. Children need to move. In terms of academics, the trend of sacrificing PE and recess to academics seems to me to be a move in the wrong direction, especially since we are starving many kids because we are worried about their weight (see earlier posts).

Sometimes less can be more. More minutes at recess might result in greater learning even if learning minutes overall were reduced. I marvel at those adults who do not see how desperately kids need physical movement. Sitting for an hour may provide rest for the average adult, but that same amount of time in a chair stresses the average child. Some kids find that long sit to be a form of torture. Ask a kid their favorite subject, and many will answer recess. When we take away recess, we suck the fun out of the day. At worst, we sometimes end up medicating kids to keep them in their seats when an hour of real exercise might accomplish that same aim. I’m sticking jumping jack breaks into my 80-some minute classes, which helps.

Eduhonesty: I am glad I attended school in an earlier time.

Is it ADHD? Or merely lack of interest? I am teaching furiously, showing math using my document camera, and I ask the class a question. Two hands go up. Two attentive faces look straight at me. Ah, I must have caught the wave!

Student One: Ms. Q, can you beat box?

Beatboxing is the art of producing drum beats and other musical sounds by using one’s mouth, lips, tongue, and voice.

I reply that I really cannot beat box. I move on to Student Two, attempting to get back on track.

Student Two: Ms. Q, what is the name of the oldest tree in the world. You know, that tree. They told us about it.

I have no clue who they are and I don’t know the name of the tree either. I tell Two that I cannot name his tree. Maybe it is a sequoia? He will need to look that up later.

Eduhonesty: Dauntlessly, I return to the math at hand. I have a sense, though, that I may not be connecting. I keep flailing away at my material, asking questions, getting some right answers. Step by step…

Did my student ever look up the answer to his question? I did. Methuselah, a bristlecone pine tree from California’s White Mountains, is thought to be almost 5,000 years old—and the oldest non-clonal tree in the world. Wikipedia has a list of oldest trees. There appears to be one tree older than Methuselah that does not have a name. I will probably share that information with the class tomorrow.

They will never hear my pathetic attempts at beat boxing, though!