Vocabulary

When I was in 3rd grade, I copied a lot of definitions out of the dictionary. I remember one time, while kicking it in the advanced reading group, our teacher gave us a stern talking to about our definitions. It seems almost everyone defined the word by using the word--so we still had no idea what the word meant. (It was some adverb or adjective that used the noun form in the definition.) I forget the word, but I never forgot the lesson. A definition only works if you understand all the words in it. Sometimes, that means looking up another word.

Most of my students have not learned that lesson yet. They blithely copy definitions, then make a guess what the word means when they write synonyms and antonyms. If they are dedicated enough to use a thesaurus, I can still catch them on their examples--that have nothing to fo with the word's meaning.

I know that they ate disaffected and disengaged, but it seems like such a waste of time. Why bother even doing the assignment if you don't get anything out of it? Yes, I know, I need to figure out a way get them to care; bla bla bla. I just don't get them sometimes. They're 16 years old, not 8. Aren't they curious?

I Would Like to Thank the Academy...

I was trying to keep my squirrels in line this afternoon. My remedial class is a bit squirrely on the best of days (they haven't passed the exit exam yet for a reason), but here at the end of the semester, they are extra squirrely. I try, for at least the sake of appearances, to make them do their sentence correction warm-up. (Don't get me wrong -- we've worked, 48% passed the exam in October, and I hope another 5%-10% passed in November.) So, as I am coercing them into fixing four whole sentences, one of my favorite squirrels (she is as squirrely as they come, but is lively and chipper and good-hearted, just oh-so-squirrely) suddenly insists she has something for me in the migrant room.

A note: most (if not all) of the students in this class are either Sped or ELs (I think one of them might escape either of those labels -- MIGHT). Most of those ELs are also migrant students. They have not passed yet because the deck is stacked against them. They speak a language other than English, their schooling has often been interrupted, and their parents are often not literate in any language. Because they are in the migrant program, however, they get additional supports and they also get a smaller learning community. They know each other and they have good relationships with the migrant staff.

Although HeadSquirrel was begging me to go to the migrant room, I insisted that she finish her warm-up first. (I often do this. I insist they finish an assignment or wait until I am ready before I let them leave the room. Their first instinct is that I won't let them go or I don't believe them, when really, I just want to minimize the distruptions to their education.) Afterwards, I let her go. She came back -- with an award for me. They all voted to give me a certificate of appreciation for "Teaching Our Children". Then, the chorus of voices asked me where I was because they made a speech (in English and Spanish) and gave me this award at their La Posada celebration the night before.

Well, now I just felt like crap. They gave me an award and I wasn't there? But I swear, none of them told me about it! I got no notice from the migrant office that a celebration was even going on and none of them said a peep about it in class on Wednesday. (Last year I learned -- secondhand, sadly -- how important the migrant award ceremonies are, and I vowed I would do my best to attend them.) They said that another student of mine (in one of my regular English classes) told me about it, but she didn't. It's true that she was in my room yesterday taking her final because she left early to Mexico, but she never said a word about the party.

So, I'm sad that I missed a moment to be with my students and their families to celebrate their educations. I'm embarassed that they gave me an award and I wasn't there. And I'm disappointed that I missed out on all the food! They had posole and tamales and enchiladas... (have I mentioned how much I LOVE tamales?).

But mostly, I am so honored that they gave me this award. I've never gotten an award from my students before. I'm not a touchy-feely person, so the students don't instantly bond with me as they do with some teachers. That "cold-heartedness" doesn't make for a lot of warm-fuzzies come awards' banquet time. So even though it wasn't an ideal hand-off, it is still very, very sweet. I have the certificate hanging on my wall already.

I want to thank the Academy, my family, and especially all of you for reading and responding and being a part of my own learning process. I dissed you on a Thanksgiving post, so I'd like to express my gratitude right now. Thank you. Thank you very much.

And That Is Different That Now Because...

This year has been a bad one for illnesses. I have had many more students than usual who have racked up a number of absences due to illness. These absences come in groups and are typically verified by a parent. Some of the students manage to make up the work; others, not so much.

One of my students, lets call her Little Miss Needy (I'm sure I could make an entire picture book about her), has had this particular problem this year. She has made some noises about making up her work, but has not managed to complete anything. She makes meetings -- and then skips them. She asks for help -- and then leaves. She whines a whole lot -- but never steps up with the work.

She asked for some missing work last week, so I gave it to her. She emailed me because she was going to be absent again and needed some help. So I emailed. She wondered if there was anything she could do to pass.

I explained that she had a 25% and it was highly unlikely that she could do anything to change her F. She asked again in class today. Couldn't I just give her an essay to write, or something? An essay to replace a poetry unit, a rhetoric unit, The Crucible, and The Scarlet Letter, plus some incidents and accidents, mind you. No, I said, there was nothing that could replace all of that. (We are less than two weeks from the end of the semester and the deadline for late work was last Friday.) She humphed out of the classroom, exclaiming, "Well, I'm going to stop trying in here."

Help me, out, Little Miss Needy. That would be different from what you've been doing so far because...?

Squirrels

I have some squirrels, most of them concentrated in one class. Some are just squirrels, some are surly squirrels, while others are just surly. It's a good time. I spend a lot of time trying to not hate them, but sometimes, they melt my cold, cold heart.

My school's Career Counselor is Awesome. Every fall, she hosts a college options fair for the juniors. They learn about all their post-college options: the UCs, the CSUs, private colleges, community college, technical college, and job training. They learn about the availability of unskilled labor jobs, financial aid, entrance requirements, and transfer options. And my squirrels? All listened politely, took notes, and even asked questions.

Today, two of my squirrels asked me additional questions. Both of them are D students--mostly because they don't turn in their work. One told me he doesn't think he'll graduate! Now, I've had some students (have some students) who WILL NOT graduate--he is not one of them. He is not a great student. His parents did not graduate either, but I know he can make it through. We talked a little bit, but I need to make sure I follow up with him. He's a sweet kid, but he needs a little more discipline and a lot more confidence. Graduating will get him a long way on both those things. The other boy wanted to know about being a Realtor. What did he have to do? How much school? Is it a good job?

In a class of squirrels, I relish the time I get to talk to my kids. I especially love that although many of them seem to think I'm just whatever, others of them find me cool enough and kind enough to trust with questions and concerns that are truly important.

I Think I'm Going to Faint!

I know, I know... I've been all blog silent. I's gots tons o' sheeeeit goin' on 'round here. Here's a little teaser for you.

The state of California has this thing called the California High School Exit Examination, or CAHSEE. The test is given in the 10th grade and is written at an 8th grade level. You can't graduate until you prove you can read and do math as well as an 8th grader. Don't get me started.

However, this test can be difficult for some students, notably students in special education and students who are language learners, also, some at-risk students fall through the CAHSEE cracks as well. One of my classes is a CAHSEE prep class. These are seniors who have not yet passed the class. Almost all of them are either special education or EL students (with two at-risk students). Yeah.

The first time they took the test was in October, and it takes seven weeks to get the scores. Seven long weeks these poor kids are waiting to see how they did. In the interim, we make them all take the test again in November. It is killer. It is a day-long test and they hate it.

Well, we got the scores this week. I heard from a couple of my kids that they had the math scores, but no one had sent me the spreadsheet. I went on a campus-wide search, and finally got the appropriate office to send me the scores. Yesterday, I could give them their scores.

I saw one of my students walking across campus in the morning and I told her that she passed. Think of one of those diamond commercials that are playing on TV right now. Can you see the woman who's just been given a ring? See how happy she is? That's what this student looked like. Fast-forward to class. Many of them had already been told by one of their other teachers if they had passed or not. But I called up one girl, a really sweet, quiet, hard-working girl who struggles with English. She came up kind of hang-dog, and then I told that she passed.

She jumped up in the air. She squeaked. She started fanning her face. She was noticiable red. She thought she was going to faint. She walked away. She walked back. Was I sure?

Yes, I was sure. She passed with a 351 (350 is a passing score), but she passed.

Moments like those are a welcome balm for a whole lot of other teacher crap.