Halloween!

Today, in my usually over-crowded (34 on the roster!) 8/9 class (i.e. the "bad" class of this blog), there were 16 students present. At my school, the majority of kids do not attend on Halloween. Some say it's a safety issue (fear of pranks...or gangs?). Some probably cut and hang out with their friends. Anyway, it was quite a small "bad" class, and -- oh! -- what joy!

The reason I bring this up is I have a lot of anger about the size of the bad class. Last year, I taught the same double-period, remedial reading course, but there were 22 kids on the roster. We had a positive vibe in there. In fact, several students said it was their favorite class or even "the only class I like." I felt very "successful." It was still a lot of work (English teacher = constant slew of papers), but I never really felt like I had to lose my temper.

And, there was never a single day the entire year when the class would not shut up.

There are times this year when I feel like it's MUTINY in the bad class. Yesterday, A. was sitting by the window because he requested to sit alone, and the closest thing I could do to meet his request was to sit him by the window. The window is also by the book "shelves" (plastic crates). So, he grabbed a book off the shelf and held it up to the window so that it would reflect light into my eyes! This hurt. I mean, physically, it's uncomfortable to have light shining in your eyes, but it also hurt my feelings that a kid would want to do this to me. It's like he thinks of me as the enemy.

Kids thinking of me as the enemy hurts my feelings. I am not their enemy. I don't mind being the one in charge, the adult, the leader, the role model, the strict woman who holds her ground, but I don't like for them to want to cause me physical discomfort.

A. is a particular problem. His skills are low. He has trouble focusing his mind. He is easily distracted. He reads children's books -- I mean Sponge Bob type books! -- and he wiggles all the time. He can't sit still. He is the first in line to do ANYTHING except school work. I think he has little confidence in his ability to succeed in school, especially English class. Who knows what his reading level is?!?

And, in a class of 34, when 20 of them are perfectly willing to cause distractions, pass notes, freak out over who has gum, draw in their notebooks, talk, IM (but, to my credit, if I see the phones, I consistently take them), etc., A. has little chance in learning anything.

Today, A. was absent. There were no "difficult" kids in the bad class today...well, there was Q., but her most serious infraction is usually just defiantly not doing work.

I had this trouble my first year of teaching -- in a similarly over-crowded, double-period, English/Reading class. It was hell. In fact, I think 99% of the stress I feel over this class is because of the trauma of that class from my first year. I remind myself that I'm nothing like I was then and that by this time in the year, I had looooong lost that class. That makes me feel better. Yes, much better.

Anyway, today, I got to experience the bad class with 16 kids. It was lovely.

Lovely.

-mrs. b.

Day 1

Today, in class, it didn't go terribly, but it wasn't great. When we began class, it took them a long time to begin independent reading. I did, however, hear someone say, "Be quiet. I don't want us to have to move into rows." This made me happy because they are connecting the dots. Incessant Talking ====> Rows. I give them a "3--2--1" and then I say, "Ok, let's please stand up and move our desks into rows." The other class rarely has to use this consequence, but I'm very happy to see that they are seeing the consistency.

I confiscated a note that one girl was passing around asking for everyone's MySpace information. I used to be "philosophically opposed" to confiscating kids' notes. It's their property. Why do I have the right to take it? Now, I see it as my right as an educator to try to disrupt disruptions. So, I took the note. The girl wrote her name on the top, and I am going to call Mommy & Daddy to tell them about it.

In the class, there is a "ring-leader." What does she do that's so bad? She SHOUTS. She shouts things out at the top of her lungs, even (sometimes, ESPECIALLY) if they are not class-related. She is the main defiant force in the class. So, I asked her not to shout. She said, "Why?" I said, "It's disruptive." I don't remember the rest of the conversation. Now, I am determined to call her parents, but I talked to her after class. I asked her if this class is moving too slowly for her. Maybe she should see her guidance counselor to see if she is supposed to be in the class (that would be easy!). I also said that while her written work is more than sufficient, her behavior is not to mark. I told her I know she is capable of acting in a more mature manner. Now, I feel like calling her parents would be unfair. I spoke to her, hoping that the conversation will change her behavior. If I call, as well, I feel like I'm not giving her a chance to turn herself around. So, I'm going to wait one more day.

However, I will call and talk to:

Y: Does no work, needs a lot of help, seems to have particularly low skills, generally more quiet than disruptive (i.e. likely to sleep, not to disprupt)

A: Late often, needs a lot of help, but the "restless" type (meaning shifts around in his seat, turns around to talk, etc.)

P: The girl who started the note

C: A young man who talks and talks and talks to his friends. Today, I said, "We are not here to talk to our friends." He said, "Yes, we are."

So, I have to admit that just knowing I'm writing this is helpful.

I may not write tomorrow, but I feel like this blog is a way to deal with this problem head-on, and I think that's one of the main keys to succeeding.

-mrs. b.

First Post

I am a third year English teacher at a high school in Queens, New York. I generally get a lot of satisfaction from my job, though I find it to be a tremendous amount of work. I enjoy the challenge of teaching, and there is no better feeling than seeing a student "get it." This is true to the point that I take the job of teaching very seriously...some (my husband, especially!) might say too seriously. It's a passion. It's a privilege. I sometimes feel like I want to be better at teaching than I have ever wanted to be at anything in my life.

This year, I teach three classes -- all Freshman English classes. We teach 5 periods in my district, so one freshman class is a single period, run-of-the-mill English class and 2 are double-period, "remedial" reading classes. They come from a program that I believe has been officially abandoned but that is still sort of used. It's called "Ramp-Up" and it was created by a company called America's Choice. In my district, there are (or were?) many "America's Choice" schools.

I was trained extensively in Ramp-Up. I probably spent about 11 days in training. Last year, I taught a similar schedule, 2 Ramp-Ups and 1 single period class, and I had the best year possible. Last year, I loved my classes, my students, etc. Last year, I felt I really was able to accomplish a ton with my students.

This year, out of my 3 classes, I have one "bad" class. What I mean is that I have one class that I find to be extremely challenging, mostly in terms of the behavior of the students. Because I am a third year teacher, and because I didn't really have any serious behavior issues last year, I am quite surprised at how challenging this class is. This is the class that gives me a Sunday night "dread" feeling. This is the class that made me cry last week.

The class is composed of 34 remedial readers -- a few more boys than girls -- some serious students, some resistant to learning. Over just the past 2 months of school, the class has become more and more challenging to the point that I had trouble getting their attention one day last week. I mean, I could not get their attention. They would not shut up long enough to listen no matter what I did.

There are also some boys who have taken to throwing crumpled up pieces of paper in the class. There is shouting out. It seems like everyone wants to go to the bathroom constantly. There are several late students everyday. It goes on and on...

A couple of weeks ago, I asked a teacher with about 10-11 years of experience about this class. I was crying, frustrated, angry, etc. She gave me a long lecture about how, "some kids just don't want to learn" and how I should move the "good" kids to the front of the class and ignore the others.

I don't believe that. I don't believe that some kids don't want to learn. I believe that it's very challenging to teach under certain conditions and that some classes are more difficult than others, but I believe from the bottom of my soul that every kid wants to succeed in school.

So, I am beginning this blog sort of as a challenge to myself. I want to find out if I can turn this "bad" class around, and I think the most interesting way to work on it is to write an extraordinarily honest blog documenting my efforts. It may not "work" completely. Even though it's not yet Halloween (not Quite!), this class is no longer in the "honeymoon" period, and all efforts will be met with difficulty. But, I have to try.

Everything in this blog will remain anonymous -- me, the students' names (of course!), the school information, etc.

My goal is to honestly reflect on my efforts to turn this class around.

So, here I am! I invite you to read my journey!

-Mrs. B.