All of Us These Days

I have always considered myself technologically savvy. I remember when I starting teaching, I was one of the few teachers at my school that could create my own worksheets for the class and use the internet with ease. But along with my lower back hurting and sometimes turning the music DOWN, I realize I'm getting old as I watch IM-ing, texting, and e-mailing take over the world of communication.

When texting first hit the scene, I thought it was ridiculous to use on a regular basis, because by the time it took me to text a "hello" (two clicks 4, two clicks 3, three clicks 5, three clicks 5 again, three clicks 6, find name in address book, hit send) I could have called, talked to the person, and said a perfectly cordial goodbye. So why wouldn't I call instead? I'd rather hear their voice and get instant feedback anyway. I do see the value of texting when I'm in a "no talk zone" (movie, meeting, library). It is a handy little gadget that lets you shoot off a quick message to someone. But what's with texting and e-mailing replacing phone calls?

About a month ago, I decided that whenever someone texted me, I was going to pick up the phone and call them back. I thought it would be kinda funny, because some people use texting as a way to stay at arms length, and that irritates the crap outta me. I also thought calling back would be an interesting psychological experiment. What will the other person do? Will they sit and watch the phone ring, staring at my caller ID? My feeling is, if you don't want to talk to me, then what's the point of contact in the first place?

The other day I got a text from a friend wanting to "hang out". Ok, so I called back and, of course, she didn't pick up, soooooooo I left a VOICE message responding to the text. Then I didn't hear back for 3 days. Maybe she meant she wanted to hang out in different places and just text back and forth.

Yesterday I called a friend to discuss some tentative plans we had made during a previous person to person voice call. (Yea!) I left her a VOICE mail and a day later she E-MAILED me back. What the heck? That's just wrong! I wasn't even ON the computer. How'd I get an e-mail back? I'm beginning to come to the frightening realization that if we want to stay in touch with people we have to check our e-mail, voice mail, text messages, and instant messages every day. I'm sorry, but that's just too much! It used to be (get ready for this, people under 20), that when you wanted to talk to or see someone you would call them on the phone. If they didn't pick up, it meant they weren't available so you would leave a courteous message. When they were able to retrieve the message, they would CALL you back. I long for those simpler times.

It's not that I don't get it. I remember when e-mailing started up. It was a great way to stay in touch with people far away without sitting down to write a letter and address an envelope. Also, if you don't want to wake someone with a phone call because you're on a different time schedule, e-mailing is sweet. Awesome, right? But the dark side of e-mailing, and we ALL know this, is you can write to someone instead of talking to them to avoid that level of intimacy that voice contact gives us. Now, that has its place, don't get me wrong. For instance, when you owe someone an apology and Hallmark ain't gonna cut it, or when you haven't been in touch with someone for years and you want to approach respectfully and, perhaps, cautiously. But the dark side is the e-mail when we really don't want to talk to someone, or when we are staying in touch out of some messed up sense of obligation, or when we can't stand the intimacy. Which are you?

When the miracle occurs and someone DOES call, and I miss the call, I feel the panic set in of a missed opportunity because 9 times out of 10, I'll get their voice mail when I called back. I could turn this into an extreme paranoia that it's just the people in my life, but I have witnessed it in other arenas AND my self-esteem is reasonably in tact, cuz I'm a helluvalotta fun to "hang" with!

I don't make New Years resolutions, but I will say this... If I'm not willing to see you, I'm not calling you, e-mailing, texting, instant messaging, or whatever the hell comes next. If it's not clear yet, when it comes to communication...I prefer the phone call, or better yet, a face to face encounter (remember those?). It would be easy to blame it on "kids these days" but it really is all of us, these days. Come on people, smile on your brother, everybody GET TOGETHER, instead of texting each other right now.

PS- thanks for calling, Roxxie!

My Time To Pee

Yes, yesterday I peed alot. I had lots of beverages, and I peed when I wanted to. When I felt the slight twinge of a need, I just went ahead and excused myself to the restroom. I peed in the bathroom at an apartment showing, I peed at a restaurant, I peed at an office building, I peed at Safeway, I peed at a club, I peed at a bar, and I peed every time I came back home.

If you're a teacher, you know where I'm headed with this. Because as teachers, we don't have the luxury of peeing because we feel like it, we pee on a schedule. Here's my workday pee schedule:

1) MUST go before the 8:30am bell rings
2) Opportunity at 10:20am*, use if necessary, but keep in mind, the next chance is 12:15pm
3) Anytime in the window between 12:15 and 12:50pm
4) Next small window of 1:50-2:00pm*
5) After school from 3:00pm on is pee freedom

(*Time not valid during weeks of yard duty)

Now let's talk speed. (Accuracy will not be addressed here since it's generally a no-brainer for the ladies.) I can pee hecka-fast. You have to be able to move quickly as a teacher, because recess is jam packed. There are stories students are dying to tell you, chats with the disruptive students, inquiries about homework that is due, last minute copies to make for the next lesson, picking up mail and messages from the office, etc., etc., etc. So if you can't literally pee like a racehorse, you are out of the race. Good luck!

So, I said I CAN pee hecka-fast. But when I'm off the clock, I don't have to push out a forceful stream that would rival a fire hydrant explosion. I can take my sweet time. Don't get me wrong. I am NOT a reader in the bathroom. I do not enjoy a magazine when I'm in to do my business. But, I do enjoy the extra time I can take for the entire ritual. The tucking of the shirt, the belt-buckling, the full-drying of the hands, the checking of teeth for any meal particles, etc. Just last night I had the pleasure of peeing alongside my friend Pitt. She commented on the leisurely amount of time I took in the stall. I explained. I am not on anyone's schedule. There are no stories from 10-year-olds, no copies to make, no messages to retrieve, no "private conferences" about appropriate classroom behavior. NO, there will be none of that today! I am on Winter Break, and... it is MY time to pee.

1 + 1 = 2

I've got 34 kids in my class this year, though our contract states that the cap is 32. I'm not alone. Most of the intermediate teachers (grades 4-6) at my school have 34 in their classrooms. We "filed a grievance" with the teacher's union, and they fight for us, but it's CHEAPER for the district to pay off the grievance than to hire another teacher. CHEAPER!!! This kills me. It's so sad. I'm doing crowd control all day and can show you the bruises on my legs from bumping into desks packed into a room built in 1964. Next time you watch a movie that shows a classroom, do a quick headcount. Most movies and programs show classrooms with about 15-20 kids. That doesn't happen most places. In some districts they strictly limit class sizes. What does this mean? Kids get more attention from the teacher, can be heard in the classroom, and have a better chance for participation and learning. My sister teaches middle school in another district and she averages 40 or more students. And they have raging hormones too. Yikes!

I also have 2 grade levels this year. The dreaded "combination class". Agh...don't get me started. But here's a question for all you logic fans: How many teachers does it take to teach a year's worth of curriculum to 2 grade levels? If you said TWO, good for you. You're right! So why do some districts (including mine) insist on making combination classes where one teacher is expected to teach 2 grade levels, 2 separate lists of standards, in the same amount of time that another teacher teaches one grade level? This is a big elephant in the room, the emperor and his new clothes...whatever. It's a joke. Even if you're SUPER teacher, you are still only one person with 34 kids. You do the math, my friends.

Get Joy

I stayed away from this blog for awhile. I don't exactly know why. But the other night I was out with a friend and I said something about having a tough academic year last year and she said, "Yeah, I could kinda tell from your blog." I had already been thinking about my need to revise the teaching plan this year. I'm moving away from some of the politics and moving back toward the fun and enjoyment of teaching.

I was thinking about my first year of teaching. It was a BEAST, for sure, but I had so much fun with the students. I remember that year fondly, already forgetting about the mounds of papers I would bring home to correct on the weekend, the lack of grade level support, and the "figure it out as you go along" predicament of many first year teachers. Anyway, I want to enjoy my job as much as possible again. Kids are so entertaining and many of them really have the desire to learn.

So, today in my 4th and 5th grade class we were starting to read about the presidential candidates and ended up talking for awhile about the upcoming election. I don't know if the kids were stalling so they wouldn't have to read, but we had a rich discussion. They had great questions about who gets to vote, how the government makes decisions, why non-citizens can't vote, etc. One boy asked if poor people could vote. Another student asked what happens if the election ends in a tie. We decided that the candidates should just do "rock, paper, scissors" (a.k.a. roshambo) to determine the winner. (I guess they could do best two out of three, if that seems more presidential.) Finally, a girl asked if her grandpa's 90 year old tortoise could vote. I'm pretty sure she was kidding, but, I thought to myself, hey, if we recently had a monkey for a president, why can't a tortoise vote?

Waterfall of Youth

The other day I told my class of 5th graders that I had just been drinking from a waterfall of youth while I was on vacation. "I think I can make it through the rest of the school year," I proclaimed. Well, they didn't believe that I was really drinking the water. They were actually pretty funny about it. The kids who "pretended to believe" still found ways to let me know that they knew better. The kids who questioned it all along were tossing around phrases like, "Oh, that's a green screen."

That's a green screen?!!? Give me a break. "In my day" no 11-year-old kid knew about a green screen. We were lucky to be dazzled by the mysteriously engaging Pong video game. That was the tennis style game where a square (the ball) is bouncing around and you have to hit it with a bold line (the racquet). My sister and I clocked many hours of the mid-1970s in our den when the home version of that "stroke" of genius hit the stores. But to understand the green screen, well, grasshopper, that's something else.

Then another kid began to tell me about a green screen. I had to stop him. "I KNOW what a green screen is!" I told him. But how do these little varmits know about it? I used to think the "industry lingo" from my past career as a visual effects producer was not really common knowledge. Well, apparently, now it is.

The kids actually had fun with the picture. One girl brought her older sister in after school and showed it to her. Her sister kinda rolled her eyes, but I knew she was diggin' it too.

Can I Get a Witness?

A year ago, my colleagues and I were walking the line, the strike line, that is. Many of our students were "striking with us" by staying home, but some still came to school. The scabs that crossed the picket line gave our students packets of "busy work" and let them watch "Sponge Bob" and "Pimp My Ride" on TV in the classroom. We've come a long way from those difficult times, or have we?

Sometimes I forget about what my reactions were like when I first starting working in the public schools. I was initially outraged by the working conditions. You see, I was used to working for companies that made good money and treated their employees as important assets. The VENTILATED bathrooms were clean and stocked with tissues, lotion, etc., the kitchens were stocked with snacks and water, juice and sodas, while coffee brewed every morning for the employees. Food was ordered in for you if you had to work through lunch. All those civil "conveniences" disappeared when I started teaching elementary school.

Teachers who have been teaching for a long time don't even notice things that completely shocked me. They've become complicit in their own sub-standard working conditions. The first school I student taught at had teacher bathrooms that were converted from the kid bathrooms. The "conversion" consisted of the toilet version of a high chair. (See photo.) It was a "lift" that was set on the seat so you didn't have to squat so far to sit down. I didn't even know they made these! This same bathroom was also being used as a storage room so it was packed full of boxes. The sink didn't have hot water either. Then the first school I taught at had a staff lunch room with no hot water and a bathroom with no hot water. I was flabbergasted! Working in the "Petri dish" we call a classroom has you exposed to all kinds of germs and bacteria. I wanted to wash my hands with hot water! Is that too much to ask?

My current school has hot water in the bathroom. It also has hot water in the staff room. Hallelujah! This was certainly a perk! And Kathy, our office manager (and much more!), puts out snacks everyday in the office for us all to munch on as we pass through. I've never asked, but I'm sure she buys those snacks with her own money. What she may or may not know is that those snacks are a morale booster. It makes me feel appreciated. She also decorated the bathroom, so it feels like a real honest to goodness adult experience. It may sound silly, but those things make an impression on a person. (Thanks, Kathy!)

I've had to modify my belief that my work environment is a reflection of how I am valued. If I went into the public schools clinging to that theory, I would have quit after my first week. I think the schools/districts/state get away with it because most teachers are crazy when it comes to what they are willing to do. Why? Because it's for the kids. And what a way to exploit us! We are willing to put up with all kinds of crap because our goal is to make things better for the kids. So many teachers spend thousands of dollars a year on their classrooms and the kids. It's not as if they're buying laptops for everyone. They're buying, markers, pencil boxes, pencil sharpeners, erasers, copy paper, art materials, etc. Basically, it's the NECESSARY supplies. And most teachers never get reimbursed for everything, if anything. I ask you, what job can you think of where an employee buys things for the office or a client and they DON'T get reimbursed?

They've got us, though. Because "they" know that we won't stop buying what the kids need, because we don't want them to suffer. I realize I'm not being exploited like a migrant farm worker or something, but it IS still criminal, in my mind.

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Priorities

I lost my good friend Ingrid recently. She was diagnosed with an inoperable brain tumor two days after Christmas, and then she was gone less than a week later. It made me think about priorities. What do I hold dear? How do I want to be remembered? What matters in the big picture?

The day after she died, I sat in a long staff meeting after school going over all the paperwork that each teacher needs to fill out to show the state of California that our school is teaching the standards in the way the state sees fit. You see, our school district's test scores are "too low". We're a "PI" district which means Program Improvement. So the state sends in a team to poke around and decide why the test scores are not going up to their satisfaction. So all the teachers at my site sat there in this meeting making lists of our students who are struggling, documenting our daily agenda, showing evidence that we've been using the tests they want us to, providing our pacing guides to prove we are teaching at a dictated pace, etc., etc, etc.

I couldn't concentrate too well because I was thinking about priorities. Is it a priority to have a roomful of highly competent and qualified teachers filling out redundant paperwork? I thought about the irony of the state telling us we need to teach better so test scores will improve, but instead of letting us use this time to build our meaningful lessons, we are pushing papers so they can say, "See, we're making teachers accountable." What a crock. I'm tired of being dumped on by the district and the state. Here's an example: We are given roomfuls of students that are learning English, but no additional funding, resources, or teachers to help these kids. (There's a plethora of other examples that I will spare you.) Gee, I wonder why the test scores are low when the ONLY measure of success that is used by the state is a culturally biased bubble-in multiple-guess-test covering ONLY Math and English Language Arts.

Not only is this the hardest job I've had, it's the most impossible. You can't lift an elephant with a plastic spoon. (I don't know where that just came from...but I think it works.)

My friend Michele and I decided that our district needs to purchase t-shirts that read:

We're in PI
So I'm P.O.'d
Cuz it's PU
Ah, let's go to P.E.!

Or perhaps I can expand this into lyrics and send it to the Angry Tired Teachers band set to the music of "We Care A Lot" by Faith No More (as long as they remember to credit me).


P.S. The pictured bumper sticker and other precious gems are available at http://www.cafepress.com/

You Can Never Be Too Careful

The other night I was out at a Tiki bar for a friend's birthday. Everyone was having either a drink in a bowl or drinks that were lit on fire before partaking, all of which are basically rum punches. Needless to say, being a 5th grade teacher is the last thing on my mind, until....
I overheard a friend talking and she said, "Well, me and Shar went to [such and such a place]...". Suddenly I found my mind racing with grammar rules. Dammit! I can't escape it. If YOU are the subject, for instance, "me and Shar" went somewhere, then it HAS to be said, "Shar and I", because you are the subject of the sentence. Now, if you had said, "The bartender served me and Shar a drink," then YOU are part of the predicate and therefore "me and Shar", or better, "Shar and me" (always naming yourself last) would be grammatically correct.

Then suddenly I caught myself, standing there in the bar, surrounded by flaming Tiki drinks and Hawaiian shirts. What the hell is wrong with me? I'm correcting grammar at a birthday party. My only consolation was that this was all happening in my head...until now.

Next morning I'm driving to school and I'm still a bit grammatically feverish. I pass a CalTrans road sign that reads, "Roadwork Ahead...(next screen) Drive Careful". OK...so..."careful" is an adverb here because it tells HOW we should drive, so it should read, "Drive Carefully". It appeared, however that the character space was limited on this sign and they had to cut off the "ly" and were forced into this grammatical error ( I hope). Regardless, I passed this sign everyday for weeks after that and it bothered me every single time. That's not a good way to start your day. I would pass it at about 7:15am and then be expected to spread rays of sunshine over 30 ten-year-olds at 8:00am. That's just asking too much.

I Didn't Vote For Him

This is our governor. This is an elected official. This is the Terminator.
It took me a long time to get over the fact that we, Californians, voted Arnold Schwarzenegger into office. I'm reminded of the stupidity every time I see my Official Teaching Credential. You see, the governor signs our credentials, so I have the Terminator's autograph. On my credential.

I called it my cartoon credential when I first got it, but that didn't go over well with prospective employers.

Anyway, the whole reason I'm telling this story is because Arnold has been touring the state of CA to observe and eyeball the "underperforming" schools and districts in the state. In order to raise test scores on the ONE test that is measured for the year, some schools may need new teachers and new principals. There are only 96 districts in the state that are in this predicament. Hmmm...sounds systemic to me. But what the hell do I know?

Anyhow, the next news story (and I mean, next; right on the heels of) was about the state budget crisis. Major cuts are expected in certain areas like, well, you know, education. Teachers, school counselors, support staff will be laid off. Special programs would be eliminated such as technical education, family literacy, parent resource centers, after-school programs. Class sizes will increase...you know, stuff like that. No big deal. I'm just seeing a disconnect. More demands, fewer resources. Now, I'm no business major, but things don't add up.


P.S. Yes, I had to look up how to spell Schwarzenegger

iPods and 40s- A Unique Generation

The best part about teaching is, well, duh...the kids. I've never been one of those "oochy-coohie-coo, I just love kids" people, but when you're with them 8 hours a day, 5 days a week, it's an adventure. Sometimes a moment I have with a kid is so profound, ironic, or ridiculously funny. Over my 6 years of working with kids, I've gathered a few stories that I'd like to share with you here.

1997 (or so): I was working at a rough elementary school in North Oakland. The students at this school were tough and they didn't have much. But every school always has the obligatory December holiday assembly.
This assembly was filled with the usual barrage of squeaking clarinets and kids bouncing off the walls on a candy cane high. As the production began, I snuck in the back and leaned up against the wall next to Fred. Relegated to his usual place at the back wall, this 5th grader had seen some things I never will. Enter Santa Claus, played by a woman that is one of those people that widens her eyes when she talks to kids and uses a slooow, sickening-sweet, inauthentic voice. She stood on the stage in front of all 500 children and said, "Well hello boys and girls! Santa couldn't be here today. Do you know WHY Santa couldn't be here today?" Through the chorus of little voices shouting answers from around the room, 11-year-old Fred leans over to me and mumbles under his breath, "I know why Santa isn't here."

"Why's that, Fred?"

"He had to stop off at the store for a 40."


I was stationed at this school while working for Sports4Kids. My job was to provide structured activities for the kids at recess and lead PE classes during the day. The playground was an expanse of nothing but blacktop. It had three basketball courts with missing rims and crumbling backboards. One day I was heading out for recess, across the battlefield, to get equipment out, teach kids games, and PLAY with them. Yoshi, a sweet boy who always liked to help, was following me and chatting away. He showed me this rock that he was holding in his hand. It was a beautiful malachite stone with its shiny green and black streaks. "Here. You can have it," he said to me.

"Oh no, Yoshi, I can't take your rock. It's too beautiful. It's yours." (In my mind I was thinking about
how this kid was one of the "have-nots" and I didn't want to take his prized possession.) He looked up at me, pinched his face up in bewilderment, and said, "But I'm GIVING it to you."

He taught me a lesson that day about friendship and accepting gifts. As I type this I'm looking at Yoshi's rock.

2005: During my first year of teaching,the district and state were breathing down our necks and crawling up our a@%#! to make sure we found a way to raise our test scores. We analyzed so much data, we had it coming out of every oraface. Needless to say, we had a challenging demographic of students. I noticed that teaching English and Language Arts (ELA) was one of the hardest things of all. Most of my students didn't speak English as a first language. In fact, even those that spoke English didn't speak "Academic English". Vocabulary development is a tricky one too, which is where this next student comes in. Now I didn't have this student in my class, but I heard the story an hour after it happened from her teacher and it goes like this:

TEACHER: "Dismayed. Does anyone know the meaning of the word 'dismayed'?"

One hand goes up.

STUDENT: "Yeah, it's like, when my mama and I dismayed a cake."

2007: Just before the holiday break this year, I was saying goodbye to one of my fifth grade students who doesn't know all of her multipilcation facts yet. She was telling me about the cousin she planned to see over the break who happened to be in third grade. "She already knows ALL the multiplication tables!" the student boasted on behalf of her cousin.

"Well, doesn't that inspire YOU to learn them too?" I asked.

As she paused for a moment, I could see she was really thinking about the question. Then she replied, "Um, not really. I'm more of an iPod person."

Hot Showers and Expletives

Forgive me...it's been awhile since my last confession. But, it's been a rough year. I'm coming to the realization that this teaching thing is the hardest job I've ever had. The first year of teaching is a BEAST, a monster with a pulse of its own that will gladly consume you - if you let it. But now I'm in my fourth year and it's still kicking my ass. I've been comforted, however, by veteran teachers that say they are still working long hours, even after teaching for 20 years. You see, each year your class has a new life. The students bring different challenges to you as a teacher and no matter how many lessons I've already taught or fabulous worksheets or games I've designed the year before, it's rarely (if ever) plug and play.

I was thinking about the things I do to maintain my sanity outside of work. Sometimes a hot shower is the best. But as I was taking a shower yesterday, suddenly I caught myself thinking about school again. We've been working on a unit about water conservation and we have discussed the need to take short showers, in order to conserve water, our most precious resource. Well, here's one place where I'll preach it alright...but I can't say I practice it regularly. So now I'm trying to enjoy my long hot shower and I'm wondering how big of a hypocrite this makes me. But sometimes, when that hot water is running down my back I like to comfort myself with the justification that I don't drive an SUV and I'm damn committed to recycling. Some of the best showers have been when I take a cold beer in with me, and then of course recycle the bottle afterwards.

Anyway, as I was saying before, this job is tough. There's never enough time in the day and there's always more to do. I cringe every time I add another paper to the already huge mound of papers in my "to be filed" box. But it's just not the number one priority. I told a colleague the other day that when I win the lottery, I'm hiring assistants for all of us. Seriously, I'd be on cloud nine if I just had someone (of reasonable intelligence) that could help me organize, file, grade papers, and help make copies...those hundreds of copies I make every week! Although, some of my few adult interactions in a day are at the copy machine. It's a rare chance to check-in, share ideas, or just say hello to the colleagues I rarely see. The majority of my day is spent with 10 year olds. A great audience for my juvenile sense of humor, but sometimes I long to speak to an adult, if only just to say the "f" word.