I’ve found it difficult to merge the two worlds together. I especially find it difficult to share teaching stories with my non-teaching friends. You can’t expect someone to fully sympathize and understand the classroom when they haven’t walked in your shoes. We can all agree on this right? You can argue that this is universal with all experiences, right?

In the past, the best, most fruitful venting sessions were those I shared w/ colleagues. That all changed last week when a friend decided to spend some of her winter break with Mr. G.

She joined the adventure, and each second sans students was a moment of thoughtful exchange. She offered 3 days worth of different perspectives to the classroom, pointing out different angles to my teaching, student dialogue she found hilarious, and other reflections I appreciate. Things like “it’s a little better than I expected” to “How do you get their attention like that?” to “Wow, that 6th period is exactly as you described. Crazy” to “How am I supposed to help students who don’t want help?” It was nice to know that, at least for a second, it wasn’t 1 vs 30, it was 2 vs 30. HUGE DIFFERENCE. When there’s 2, there’s someone who shares the experience with you. Someone who understands your angle.

On Thursday the classroom felt lonely without her. We all had to adjust, especially the students. “Where’s Ms Angeles??”

Anyway, THANK YOU Ms Angeles, for becoming one of the first to fully understand both my identities. We all hope you come back to the classroom one day, whether in the capacity of a visitor… or even a teacher…

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This year, when compared to the previous three, has been trying for the simple fact that I have never had a group this difficult, and I’m not even talking about academics or behavior (Well, these have been issues too but are less magnified). I mean their lack of basic study habits and their importance in terms of how much these things reflect the amount of concern they have for their grades, and more importantly, the repercussions toward their respective futures.

During lunchtime last Wednesday, a veteran teacher and I observed my students as they lined up in the cafeteria. He has subbed for me in the past, and it was his guess that my three toughest kids to deal with (who were easy to point out as they were being told multiple times by our staff to stop talking and fooling around in line) had less than ideal conditions at home, and that my most exemplary child (who was just as easy to point out) had both parents at home, and involved ones at that. Much too often this is the case, so I agreed.

He was right about the former opinion, but the latter one was answered the next day during after school tutoring. And it showed me that life can mess with your head sometimes.

For three days a week we hold after school tutoring so the kids can do their homework under my supervision and their peers’ guidance to ensure it’s not only complete, but correct. For the aforementioned challenge kids, tutoring presents an opportunity for them to get help in the classroom if they cannot get that support at home. In addition, they eat snacks that I bring, get the chance to use the computer or play educational board games, and hang out with their friends. The class environment after school is a lot louder and way more relaxed, but if this is what it will take to get kids to do their homework and start feeling more confident in their work, then so be it.

Last Thursday, tutoring time was extended because my most outstanding student was working on her first PowerPoint presentation, and much to my surprise, one of my usually challenging kids wanted to finish his essay before he went home. Couldn’t say no to that.

The first child has everything a teacher could ever ask from a student. Listens to every word you say. Unselfish with the help she gives her peers and humble about her achievements. Completes everything with nothing less than her best effort and is attentive to detail. And compared with the other 29 kids in my class, entered my room in September on grade level in everything. So it came to my shock when I asked her if she wanted to take home a copy of the PowerPoint software to work on with her mom and dad, and she said, “My parents are separated.”

Really? I thought to myself. No way. Not her! As I came to grips with the truth, I then began to wonder that despite the maturity and poise she has shown to all of us, how deeply has her father’s absence hurt her inside, and how deeply will it affect her in the future? It was definitely not what I expected to hear as I called it a day and the three of us exited the classroom.

At this point, time had flown so fast that I didn’t notice the sun had already come down. While the first child’s mother had arrived to pick her up, no one came for my other student. As anyone could imagine, a nine-year-old boy walking three city blocks alone in the dark in South Los Angeles is probably not the safest thing to do, so I walked him home. During this time, I learned more about him in those five to ten minutes than I did reading his cumulative file and talking to his previous teachers.

One thing I always knew is that he was an honest kid, and outside of the classroom setting that night, he began to open up. He admitted that he doesn’t have anyone to tell him what he should be doing at home since his mom works, his brothers are always out, and his dad isn’t there. He also told me that he wants to improve his English because he sees that people who speak both English and Spanish get good jobs. He also informed me that the street we were traveling on was very dangerous. When I asked him why, he told me that last year, a policeman told him to run inside before people started shooting in the streets and a man was shot dead in the head. When I asked him where this happened, he pointed to the ground and said, “Right where you’re standing. We should keep walking.” Very introspective child, but the most sobering part of it all was how commonplace it sounded coming out of his mouth.

I can only imagine what these kids go through on a daily basis, and when they grow up, how much they are willing to fight for their futures. Broken homes, organized crime, and street violence are as prevalent as the grass is green. These epidemics have evolved into something normal down here. Moreover, the range of emotions exhibited by the people of the community toward these problems vacillate between hope, despair, anger, normalcy, and indifference. And it makes me think of the kids who are currently in or have gone through my classroom. Which one of these five states of mind will fuel their approach to adolescent life in Watts? I’m finding out every day.

This comes to life in my classroom through the projector. Photos and clips. Photos and clips. They come off as random entertainment, but also serve as an intermission before our brains work math again.

The majority these tidbits are funny or entertaining. Youtube clips of ninja cats or babies biting fingers. Photos of new gizmos and gadgets to highlights of recent sporting events. 2-3 minutes a day – small sacrifice to pay for large impact. Kids’ look forward to my class. And they remember it. (As evident by SO MANY ex-students who can still recall… “have you shown your new classes ____ yet?”)

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Today I decided to do something different. Last night, riots occurred in Oakland demeaning what could’ve been a highly successful, highly meaningful nonviolent protest. Scoping the net during prep, I read over what broke out. I also viewed images. Why not take a break from silly intermissions to something more real? Why not show these images? Why not discuss? This is something current, relevant, AND engaging. I decided.

I’d preface the discussion to prevent it from degenerating into violent story time. This is about politics as personal. I’d set a 5 minute time limit & ground rules, and we’d do it. The goal: to provide a space for students to discuss issues of social justice, a space for students to be exposed to what’s going on in their own backyard, a space for students to voice and form opinions. I’d share my opinion to close, but would emphasize that this is our dialogue… not mine. They ultimately form the vision they’d like to see of the world, not me.

And so it went. And it went well! Each student highly engaged, listening intently to each others’ opinion, looking intently as each image sat on the screen (ordered from powerful & calm to unruly & violent). Of course, I’d interrupt at times and play moderator to students eager to offer disagreement. But it went, and I was happy with it.

What I did hope to impart: Protest and rallies for a meaningful cause are effective. It is our duty to push for progress, especially in a place like Oakland. However, action without organization is a formula for potential disaster. And what occurred last night weakened the message folks hoped to send.

And now, onto inscribed angle properties…

(Huge credits to MW for the guidance and suggestions on this one).

(Huge credits to dy/dan for showing me how to “buy” my students’ interest & attention).

I sit down at my desk and become a passive listener to their dialogue. She is tutoring the shorter one. And by his language, I can tell he’s likely categorized as special needs.

She’s so patient & so kind. With the tutee’s every mistake & stumble. Mistake after mistake, stumble after stumble, her tone remains the same. Her diligence remains the same – never showing but a hint of frustration.

Ordinarily, I don’t allow students unattended in my classroom when I leave after school. Today, I think I’ll make an exception.

One huge gripe I have against teaching is the constant workload. There’s always something that needs to be done. During the school day, I’m grinding non-stop from the moment I open my classroom door til the final bell. I don’t have the same luxury as my peers who can sign onto gchat regularly. I can’t work at my own pace. I can’t take quick mental breaks zoning out on news articles or facebook. I can’t leave work to have lunch outside with friends. My lunch break is ONLY 27 minutes and students drop in regularly for extra help, ask about their grade, or to simply visit. I can’t even use the bathroom at any time I want. I’ve gotta wait til my prep period or lunch, or (if it’s a real emergency) passing period.

Couple all that with everything else we’ve gotta do, the behavior we’ve got to put up with, administrative and state pressures, a lack of support/resources and it’s no wonder 1/4th of all new California teachers leave the profession in 4 years or less.

I’m currently in year 2 and the gripes have not waned. I promised myself I’d give this profession a minimum of 5 years before I make a real decision on it, but I do understand why one would choose to leave right away…

Student drop out rate is a huge issue; but as serious is the drop out rate we’ve got w/ teachers.

And now, tomorrow… what’s next?

Teaching geometry a 2nd time around, you notice the difference. Your lessons slowly evolve. The lessons that turned awry the first time around are improved. The concepts you didn’t hit well become stronger. And those rare lessons that were gold are enhanced. I see it happening as I creep towards the midway point of my 2nd year, and I know that it has to only get better during year 3. A process of evolution.

The issue: This year I teach only 2 geometry classes. The other 3? Algebra.

Taking on a new prep feels like repeating the 1st year process all over again. And like I said before, Algebra is much more difficult to teach than Geometry, especially if it’s to a group whose propensity to the topic is virtually nonexistent.

I’m blindly moving forward, hoping some of this stuff will stick. Yet, looking back at these past 14 weeks, I can easily point to more than a handful of lessons that were downright horrible.

Introducing new material THE WRONG WAY is toxic. And you see it happening. You notice students chronically approach problems THE WRONG WAY as a consequence. You’re aware that some students can walk through the motions correctly but have NO CONCEPTUAL CLUE as to why they do what they do. You wish you could time travel back and change the way you did things the first time, but realize you’re weeks behind the curriculum pacing guide and… blindly… move… forward.

As a new teacher, I see no solution to this. Unless some vet walks me through each new topic daily, shedding light on every angle of every lesson, I’ll remain blind. It’s a process I must go through before becoming much improved during my second go round, a process every new teacher must face.

Parent teacher conferences (PTC) had its ups and downs. Teaching is tough when I feel like I want my students to succeed more than they do. Meeting the parents showed me that they too feel their children are not prioritizing their school responsibilities; this was strangely comforting to hear. It seems that an epidemic of senioritis has struck early this year, which scares me…A LOT.

One of the scariest moments from PTC occurred when a student got a little lippy with his parents after they expressed concerns about the student’s relationship with his girlfriend. The father quickly rose from his chair, got up in his son’s face and threatened, “You wanna keep up that attitude? You better be careful before you get smacked right here.”

Thank goodness I was not alone at the time, my mentor was also in the room. As I witnessed this my heart was pounding and I was frightened, but my body did not react. I remained neutral and reminded myself that the father’s reaction was not out of the ordinary for my student to experience. The conference ended shortly after the incident and I was assured that the family would have words when they returned home and that my student would not cause any more trouble.

My favorite moment from PTC occurred when a student introduced me to her mother. Her mother greeted me with the warmest hug I’ve ever received from a stranger. (Dominican mothers pretty much rock.) It felt great to be welcomed by my student’s mom; it felt even greater to report on her daughter’s positive progress in chemistry.

PTC taught me a little more about my students’ backgrounds (for better or for worse), which I hope will benefit me in the classroom. You know, I’m beginning to understand the adage “it takes a village to raise a child.”

P.S. Apologies for not updating in more than a week. October’s been hectic.

After putting hours and hours of sweat, stress, and work into your teaching, October is the month you realize you probably won’t reach every single student. That realization is heartbreaking, heartbreaking to the point that you don’t want to do it anymore. You start to think, “what’s the point?” You start blaming the administration for handing you too rough a schedule. And you start to wonder how much greener the grass is on the other side.

Couple this with the horrifying reality that NO extended break exists in sight within a months time, and you feel suffocated.

Last year, October was the month I left ALC. This year, I have nights where I want to throw in the towel once again. One day I’m flying, the next, I’ll wake and hide under my blanket and hope responsibility will take a chill pill for once.

Last Thursday, I loved my job. This Sunday night, I feel overwhelmed by the weight of another 5-day week. October days have my emotions on an erratic track.

I’d like to send a shout out to all those who look out. The phone calls, the check-ins, the “how was your day?’s” – the positivity when you hear that it’s good, the concern when you hear that it’s bad. I know I’ll vent and complain over and over, but it’s comforting to know there’s folks out there who care, who understand, and who root for my success as a teacher – for the success of my students. I’m beyond appreciative.

Maybe I’m a bit burnt out. Maybe I’m still coming to terms with the fact that summer is beyond over. Maybe I need to work more efficiently. But, TGIF. I don’t know what I’d do w/out you, weekend.

…

Tell me why I’m already tired though. Dammit.