I'm Still Here

Just busy and super-duper sleepy. If it weren't new-House-night, I'd be in bed already.

In my most recent testing news, my district has some f'd up standards (yes, I think my nod to profanity is warranted). And I don't mean content standards. Let me explain.

On Monday I administered my district's writing benchmark test. I get some leeway with it, so I wanted to front-load the rubric and all that. I copied the rubrics from the front cover and transferred them to overheads all in the 10 minutes before class (because the tests are kept under lock-and-key beforehand) because as a new teacher, I don't have a filing cabinet of all this stuff. So, there I am in front of my juniors and I unveil the rubric scale. It's a 6 level scale with some usual headings: Advanced, Proficient, Beginner -- I don't remember what-all -- oh, and Incompetent. Yes, the district is calling students who score a 1 "Incompetent". Not Emerging or Basic or even Below Basic. No. Incompetent.

Google "incompetent" (define: incompetent) and see what you find. I found definitions like "not qualified", "bungling", "unskilled" and my personal favorite, "not capable". Right, because we want to tell students that they are NOT CAPABLE of completing the assignments we give them. Not that they have a long way to go to become proficient (a reeeeeaaaaally long way, granted), but that they just can't do it.

Of course, the "Incompetent" students probably don't know what "incompetent" means, nor do they understand the finer points of language: like connotation. So, maybe it's OK. Except that in a district that is somewhere between 50% and 75% English Learners (many have been "exited" but will always carry an EL designation), many of my students are trying to succeed, but struggle with academic writing tasks. Should we berate our students for their faults, or bolster them in their attempts at growth? Hmmmm. I think I need to think on that one for a bit.

In my meeting today with other English teachers and my district's ELA support administrative whatever, I asked about this label. She was (rightfully) dismayed by the designation and went to check on it. Of course, neither she (nor the other English teachers) had ever, oh, NOTICED the use of the word on the FRONT PAGE of the test booklet. But, whatever. We're only English teachers. We don't need to do a close reading of anything.

Turns out, this rubric was taken DIRECTLY FROM THE STATE OF CALIFORNIA. Yup. Cali is labeling its lowest level students as incompetent. Something about that strikes me as, oh, classist? Racist? Prejudicist? Someist. Or maybe I don't need to coin a new word because "rude" works just fine. (I strive to make William Strunk, Jr. proud.)

One of these days, when I get a spare moment (maybe over Christmas break), I'm writing a letter to the peeps up in Sacramento. Because this s is totally f'd.

Ants and Light Summer Reading

Last summer I went on a bit of a rehab binge. Maybe it was all the Amy Winehouse on the radio or maybe it was just luck, but it seemed like every time I turned around, I was learning about extreme drug and alcohol abuse and what it's like to stop it. Well, all with a fairly good dose of fiction, because well, because. Who needs facts?

By far my favorite was Augusten Burroughs's Dry (which also happens to be my favorite Augusten Burroughs book; it's good; and hilarious). I also read A Million Little Pieces AGES after Oprah got mad at dude for lying (I forget his name and the book isn't around). Whatever. It was a pretty interetsting read. (I got it for cheap at the thrift store right before a plane flight.) And I also saw an MTV Real Life about drunk twenty-somethings. You know, while I was kwilting. I think there was other stuff in there, little hints and stuff, but those were the big three.

So, during all this reading I learned that one of the last stages of alcoholism is hallucinations, often of tiny, creepy-crawly things. I think Augusten (sure, we're on a first-name basis) said spiders were common, but I think ants would work to.

So last night, when I came home, I was hoping it was just late-stage alcoholism. (Well, not really *hoping*, but you know.) But no, it was actually ants. Everywhere. Especially on the walls around my ceiling. "Why," you ask? "What food do you keep along the edges of your ceiling?" "Why," I reply, "I didn't know I kept any up there."

Ugh. I didn't have ants (or roaches, or grasshoppers, or mice, or rats) in Oregon. And neither I nor my roommates were spontaneously clean or anything. But here? Leave out that empty pan of macaroni and cheese one night... So now my kitchen is covered with ant traps. They're working OK, but I forget which brand is better. I know one rocks -- either Raid or Combat -- but it's been so long. If anyone has any good intel, I'm all ears.

The Nature of Competition

I had a rather successful lesson with my students this morning. (Actually, I don't know if it was successful in driving their learning, but it was successful for getting them involved and thinking.)

We played Analogy Relay Races. I put two posters with identical (fairly easy) analogies on the board and divided the class into two groups. Each group had to answer all the questions by taking turns. (No skipping people.) They could help each other, but they had to all participate.

And they did!

And the hilarious thing? One of the students, early on, said something to the effect of, "Why are we so worried about this?" And there was no reason for them to get excited about winning. I mean, the prize of one small piece of candy? Negligiable. The brag factor? Are you serious? Bragging about winning an analogy game in English class? Yeah, right.

But even knowing it was sorta silly didn't change their desire to win. The competition worked. They took turns. They helped each other out. They wanted to win (so they tried). I bet they at least had more fun than if they just worked on a worksheet. And maybe, because they were moving, a few of the kinesthetic learners got a shout-out. (I feel for the kinesthetic learners, being one myself. I think it's a shame it's considered rude to knit while sitting in boring meetings -- it actually helps me concetrate and remember information.)

I will admit, however, it wasn't quite as successful during the later class. It wasn't horrible, just not as wonderful. Still, it was pretty fun and not too hard on me (yay! student-centered) so it will probably make reappearances throughout the year.

TPS Reports

The other week I saw a snipet from Office Space and it is, along with The Wire, the kinematic masterpiece that most closes matches my current life. I'm still not sure if art is imitating life or the other way around, but let's just say I could be shrunk, zapped into HBO, and my life wouldn't seem much different.

Let's forget for a moment that I found myself jealous of Milton's pretty red stapler last week as I was attempting to fill my own sad, plastic, no-good, lame-ass stapler with it's sad, metal, no-good, lame-ass staples. I have three staplers -- they cost a combined total of $10 -- and they suck. Not one will staple more than 5 pages together let alone staple into my walls. The staples always end up falling sideways and getting jammed. They are mostly useless. Everyone knows that a good stapler is expensive -- and heavy enough to inflict bodily injury on intruders to your home, office, cubicle, or classroom. (Just a note for any of you thinking about Christmas presents already. Actually, a gift certificate to Office Max, Office Depot, or Staples would work. I'm sure I'll be out of paper by Christmas.)

But no, this evening I just completed what I will choose to call my TPS Reports. Everyday, after taking attendance on my seating chart and transferring it to my gradebook, I then go "online" to the 20-yr-old DOS program and input attendance there. THEN, after four weeks, the school sends me a print-out of what I input and asks me to verify it. Theoretically, everything matches perfectly. In actuality -- not so much. Or at leat not this time for me. I'm still learning EVERYTHING, so there were some corrections to make. Some stump me (I have no idea where I went wrong). Some I can tell were where I clicked on the wrong line. Some I thought were mistakes but really weren't because I was looking at the wrong line in my gradebook compared with the line on the print-out -- a hazard of working with 36 kids in a class. I know one was from when I forgot to click the super-secret date that actually *records* the information that I input into said DOS program.

And all of this just seems, so, well, like a waste of my time. Sure, I should get attendance right every time. I should. But I don't. And I'm sure I'm not alone in that. I know I'm not as bad as this person I heard about who just didn't take attendance for a month and a half -- this person is no longer employed at the school. But how do I know that what I put in my book is really any more accurate than what I typed in the computer (especially four weeks later)? I am so frantic during every class (what with the 35-37 students that I am trying to wrangle, teach, and talk to) that who knows if I put it on the correct line in my gradebook or in the computer. In a perfect world, I would have fewer students and more time to spend double-checking my work. But I don't. And I end up opting for spending more time monitoring my students than staring at a computer screen. I'm not saying it's the right choice, just my choice.

I guess I'll find out sooner (or later) if my attendance problems are enough to warrant administrative action.

But at lesat, as far as I know, my reports do not currently need a cover sheet. But I'm not holding my breath that that won't change.

Baby's New Knits

My friend M just had a baby. Well, two months ago, but still. And while I started a blanket for him back in June, I waited (of course) until yesterday morning to finish it. Yesterday morning as in an hour and a half before the baby shower. That is, after staying up until 1am working on it on Friday.

And because I'm me, I adapted the pattern from one I found online. So my gauge was a bit off. It's really hard to tell these things when the yarn is on the needles. And it's really hard to tell when you've only got one row cast on. Knit fabric stretches and it always seems much smaller with one row than with 150 rows. So... I ended up making it a bit too wide.

But, as I mentioned, I was running out of time. When it looked like I'd gotten it to an appropriate length, I finished up the border and cast off. And when it was off the needles, it became very apparent that the blanket was far more rectangular than square. Of course, had I just made it narrower by 30-40 stitches, that extra would have gone into the length and it would have been damn-near perfect. Drat. And I take such bad notes I don't even remember how many stitches I cast on in the first place. So the next blanket is likely to look the same (or too narrow for its long length).

However, J (the baby) doesn't seem to mind and M doesn't seem to mind, either. I am not-so-secretly hoping that this turns into a blankie (my blankie was one knit for me by my mother) and at that point, the size won't matter at all. A blankie can be any size; it's about the comfort, not the coverage (or the komfort, not the koverage). Of course, kids (cids?) will latch onto whatever they please, and the blanket might just get relegated to the bottom of the toy box -- and it won't even be personal.



Also, M's family is awesome. They invited me over for dinner after the shower, forced me to stay the night, then fed me breakfast. They also insist that I join them for Thanksgiving, even though M will be back in Utah by then. They are friendly, supportive, and offer everything one could hope for in a surrogate family including food, wine, and teaching materials. (Just in case any of you were worrying about my support structures out here in the valley.)

For those of you who have ever put me up for a holiday, know that the tradition of my crashing your family events survives.

Inky's New Klothes

Inky got some new clothes this week. I finally got my sh*t together and got her her Cali plates. Sadly, they are much less pretty than her Oregon ones. Oregon's plates are blue and purple and green, with mountains and trees and a beautiful sunset. Cali plates, on the other hand, are very functional. The plate is a shimmery white with blue letters and a red "California" scribbled across the top. It gets the job done, with just the "appropriate" amount of patriotic coloring. ho-hum.

But that's not the good part.

Most of you know about my abiding love for UNC (go Heels!). Before I left the state, I stocked up on all sorts of Carolina paraphernalia -- sweatshirts and pants and t-shirts and hats and window decals -- and a license plate holder. I was all set to put it on the car in Oregon, but while North Carolina's stickers go on the top corners of the plate, Oregon's stickers go on the bottom. Thus, the license plate holder would have covered the very important stickers and might result in a traffic stop. :-( So, I just put the thing in the trunk and there it stayed.

Until Thursday.

Upon the sticking of the stickers in the upper corners of my new license plate, I realized that Inky could finally wear her Carolina gear. Worried that I had misplaced the cover during those five years (me? lose something? nawwww), I went straight to the box of junk in my trunk. (No, that is not a reference to my butt, but the actual box of random items in my car's trunk.) And there, under a pile of old wedding negatives (don't ask), was the "platinum" plate holder.

I must say, I had a very exciting evening on Thursday installing my license plate with my Carolina Alumni license plate holder (thereby defining me as a Tar Heel born and bred, and not just some fly-by-night bandwagon follower). I have been looking forward to this day for five years.

Inky looks just darling in her new outfit. Now if Michael will just buy me a new window decal to replace the one that's falling off and almost totally gone. I mean, he's working there now, how hard is it to walk across the Pit or over to Shrunken Head?

P.S. Go to Hell, State!

Adorable

It was a long day at school today. So long, in fact, that this morning seems like yesterday. But no, it was just this morning.

A brief word about why today was so long. It was Back to School Night! Actually, besides the whole "super long" thing, it wasn't too bad. The parents rotated through their child's schedule and spent 10 minutes in each class. I got to give my spiel about learning and policies, except instead of the blank stares of my students, I was met with the appreciative nods of my parents. I also got some phone numbers and emails, and they got mine. One mom was also very interested in volunteering in my class -- her son was not. But that's OK, because he's a Hellstudent. That would be at least one class where he wouldn't be Hellstudent. MWA-HA-HA-Ha-haaaaaaaaaaa.

Anyway, this morning we had a "William Inspection". Since I am now living in THE most litigious state in the Union, everything is controlled by one lawsuit or another. Sure, the intention is to give every citizen equal rights, but it's quickly becoming old. Sorta like getting transported back to the height of the PC movement.

ANYWAY. Back to Williams. This guy sued Cali because he (or his son) wasn't getting appropriate services. The school was rundown and the students didn't have their own textbooks. A deplorable situation, and one that should be remedied across this nation. (We called them "low-wealth schools" in NC, in Oregon they were just "failing".) But somehow, the solution is these inspections which make sure I don't have cords running across the floor and that all my students have textbooks to call their own.

What this means in practice is that I can't have a class set of books (regardless of whether or not my students can keep their books at home). So, I have to harass, cajole, threaten, and punish my students into bringing their heavy-ass (the technical term) books to class just to prove that we are not lying and they do indeed have them. It also means I have to spend two hours on a Saturday dressing cables in my classroom. Good thing I have all that TV experience, eh?

When they come to inspect the schools, they are supposed to do so quietly. But they didn't. A gaggle of inspectors (three inspectors and a school VP) burst into my classroom and actually took over. One lady was giving a pep talk while one dude was sitting at a desk taking notes and a third was harassing my students asking about their books. All of them had checked out books (thank God), but not all brought them. I've done my best, though; I have the consequences for not bringing a book posted on the wall and I write which book (big-ass text or kid-friendly soft-cover workbook) the student need on any given day. So, I probably won't get fired for the 5-6 kids who left their books at home (grrr).

But this is the adorable part. When the inspectors burst in my room and took over the show, I was desperately trying to figure out what was going on while the Hatchet Woman asked how many studnets I had in my class and I overhead the Ringleader asking my student about their teacher (me). The angels (ANGELS!) said I was a great teacher. Awesome. The best. I didn't even coach them on this. (I had no idea it would come up.) They didn't blink. Didn't miss a beat.

You don't even know how glad I am that the Big Show arrived during first period, and not fourth. Of course, they came back during second. Once is just not enough! And it seems they targeted the first-year teachers. Because I don't have enough to do or think about.