Your trash, a teacher's treasure

Despite it being in my genes (both my parents, and to some extent my brother, do this) I'm not a natural pack rat. Rather, I prefer to purge stuff, which can go awry especially when I'm cleaning out the files on my hard drive. More than once, I've made my computer unusable because I accidentally deleted something vital. Thanks goodness for factory restore and flash drive storage.

But I've realized that being a teacher means stocking up on certain things like a nuclear fallout waiting to happen. The more expensive items - books, P.E. equipment, organizing storage - I'll probably accumulate slower and more deliberately than things like paper towel tubes and 2 liter soda bottles. I started hoarding cereal boxes and the like about a year ago and now my closet is full to bursting of what some people might describe as kindling.

One of the most useful things I've collected are magazines and mail order catalogs. These are great for collages and other projects that require a lot of glossy, color photographs and pictures. However, some of the magazines are just not child-friendly (what is the commonality between fashion and naked people? aren't fashion magazines supposed to advertise clothing??). And I don't want to recycle them simply because I have such a volume of them, and it'll seem like such a waste of good material.

Hence, the table made of magazines as pictured above. No glue or other fastening materials needed. Just magazines and about 20 minutes in front of 30 Rock last night, plus some tips from here, and I've got myself a new little round stand. Of course it's not the most permanent piece of furniture on the planet, but it is surprisingly sturdy and there's nothing at Ikea that can do better.

I haven't decided what to do with it yet. Although there is a potted plant sitting on top of a wooden file cabinet which I would like to re-commission. The file cabinet, not the plant. The stand made of magazines can be the plant's new home.

Point is, there are all sorts of cool DIY things one can do with trash. It just takes a little creativity and patience. And really effective google search words.

Phase III

English tutoring, Form 5, St. Paul's College.

Yay! Finally got news of my placement today!

5th Grade at EIB with JL as my CT. Funnily enough, I think this is the CT that my phase II CT had as a CT when she was in the program. Whoohoo! How many more times can I type CT into this paragraph? By the way, CT stands for "classroom teacher," "cooperating teacher," or "master teacher," all of which are interchangeable.

Scanned the schools' statistics on greatschools.net. They aren't great. But they aren't terrible either.

Ok, let me rephrase that. Their overall API score last year was 704. The state of California aims for every school to be at 800. A difference of 104 may seem like a lot, however I know many other schools with WAY less points than that.

But it definitely looks rather bleak for EIB. The 4th grade team seems to be really on the ball, according to their CST and CAT6 scores. But 5th grade has awful scores, especially in science and math. API ranking of 2 (out of 10) with a slightly better score of 5 (out of 10) when compared to schools of similar demographics and etc. Greatschools.net averages it out to 3/10. They were just shy of 2 points in meeting their improvement goals from 2007 to 2008. This 5th grade class will be taking their 2009 tests with me as one of their teachers.

Awesome, a challenge.

And thus that sinking feeling in my stomach begins anew.

This and double jointedness belong in the same category

Apparently, I haven't learned enough.

Today, I found out that CSUS dropped my enrollment because I forgot the payment deadline was last week. Today also marks the day I become the biggest doofus on the planet. Today, or the deadline that had just passed.

I'm not particularly worried about not being enrolled since I'm pretty sure I can work something out with the registrar's office. But it just goes to show what a rough semester it has been on me that I forget to pay tuition. It just isn't me. Granted, this semester has had decent amounts of drama outside of school/work so I can't blame it on the semester since I can't say stuff wouldn't have happened without CSUS. It is entirely my fault and I have no excuses.

That said, I really dislike the fact that CSUS makes students pay tuition weeks before the courses being paid even start. I paid for the Fall 2008 semester before summer even began. At UCD and at SJDC (the jc I attend off and on), all fees are due on the first day of the term. Certainly you can pay before, but that time from registering for classes and actually going to the classes is free of all monetary obligations. I know I've been at CSUS for two terms already, and I should know how they work it by now. However, old habits die hard, especially in times of emotional and physical stress. Plus, I've had 13 quarters of UCD's payment schedule on top of dunno-how-many years at the jc. It just makes sense to me that tuition is due on the first day of school.

I also am confused by the fact that some financial aid disbursements don't actually disburse until a week or so before school starts. Some students rely on financial aid to pay for school. I'm paying for the credential program completely out of pocket but more than one of my cohortmates have been through issues of enrolling, then being dropped by the school because they haven't paid. But they can't pay yet because their financial aid hasn't arrived. And some loans may not disburse, seeing that the student is not enrolled this term and thus assumes the student is no longer a student. Then the student can't prove they have the money to pay for school, and so the school won't let them reenroll.

How is this logical? It's like a m⍥bius strip gone wrong.

Anyway, I'm pretty sure my case can be fixed, perhaps with a little more drama involved but still repairable. I'm boggled by the fact that I forgot the deadline. I'm even more boggled by the system. It's quite astounding.

Things I've learned this year:

- I still look forward to when Christmas is over, even when there are fun things to do with fun people. New Year's Eve still rocks solid.

- It is definitely not a good idea to have caffeine after 1pm. Or else I'll be awake, like I am right now when I really really want to sleep.

- I cannot live with my parents for an extended period of time and still maintain a healthy relationship with them.

- I have the confidence to take the RICA and think I can pass. Actually passing is a whole other story.

- I miss China.

- I miss my China teammates and other friends from T.

- I miss my brother. Weird.

- I would very much like to return abroad. Preferably in a teaching/learning capacity.

- I like teaching first grade.

- I would very much like to earn a Ph.d some day.

- I like someone. Who is already in a relationship. So I am also a coward/passive observer about it. But I think I can live with it if he is happy too.



Things I haven't learned yet:

- What exactly I'll do about my future.

- What exactly is going on with my spiritual life.

- The best way to format a lesson plan. At least for my own use, since there really is no "best" way.

- If I'm really a grown-up or still a kid.

- How not to be socially awkward with teenage girls. Teenage boys are ok. It's the girls I don't get. See next line.

- Why children are mesmerized by Hanna Montana.


I've only ever had one super-long term goal for myself, and only because a high school English teacher made us write about short and long term goals once. That is: to make the last year of my life the best. And since one never knows when one will up and smoke it, it seemed like just another way to say carpe diem without the latin.

However, that goal may not be quite as worthwhile after all. It is also very vague. What does "best" mean exactly? And what if the die just weren't rolling my way the year before I kick the bucket? So I've decided on a new, hopefully more concrete goal:

To learn more things than not in any given year.

One can say that one never learns more things than not. For instance, I will probably never learn the finer details and calculations associated with String Theory. Not an impossibility, just slim chances. But when this time of the year rolls around again and again, I would like to make a list similar to the above with which I can prove that I've been more productive with my life than not.

And that would make it a decently "best" year for me.

I'm going to miss those first grade booger snots

I went into room 10 for the last time today. Half in a daze, partly because I didn't have coffee and partly because my mental self had allowed my physical self to loosen some accumulated tension, I helped with some crafts and read some stories for the afternoon.

Then, the students surprised me with thank you letters they wrote themselves. The pictures are the most hilarious. A lot of them remembered to put glasses on me; which made me wish I had worn contacts at least once during the school year to freak them out a little.

They went to P.E. and I helped my CT deal with a kid off his meds. Then we chatted for a little bit with her visiting boyfriend. The bell rang and I went to say a final good bye to the students.

K, one of my favorite students, hugged me for a long time. She is the sweetest, most well behaved kid, albeit not quite academically at standard yet. Far from it actually. But she has shown great improvement.

K: Ms. Ng? Will you come back?
Me: Probably not, but you never know. [my CT had asked if I can sub for her in May when she goes to So. Cal. for a wedding. I said I would if I had no other engagements.]
K: Thank you for the card. [I had given all the students a Christmas card with bunches of stickers to go with it.]
Me: You're welcome.
K: I'm going to miss you.
Me: Me too.

She hugged me again, and then reluctantly left with her mom and siblings.

Yeah, me too K, me too.

When "high tech" educator tools only make me want paper and pencil again

Dear Taskstream,

I want to take this extra time to say: you annoy the hell out of me. Take note that this may not necessarily be your fault (although I really dislike your never ending pop-up windows of d00m). This may not necessarily be my fault either (but like most people of the tekkie generation, I believe anything that doesn't accomplish its task instantly is taking WAY too long).

I am annoyed by you because the Beautiful State of California requires me to do something called a PACT, aka Pressure to Achieve Craptastic redundantness for Teachers, which I must submit online at your site. If I do not do this, I am not allowed to teach until I sacrifice my first born child at the feet of the CCTC, the governator, and all California legislative and nonlegislative staff related to the Almighty Board of Eduction. Regardless of any actual competency in teaching. Or competency in general.

In this case, you, dear Taskstream, take on the unfortunate role of middleman. I do not envy you. I'm sure the feeling is mutual. And I would love to take a we're-all-in-this-together stance, however I, unlike you, have yet to make any kind of living out of all this hoop-jumping. And frankly, I have no mercy for your pains. Because in reality I am about $6,000 in the hole, and counting, since the start of this credential adventure, a chunk of which is residing in your pockets right now. So unless you are an African or Southeast Asian baby suffering from malnutrition and disease, you are not getting my pity.

Just thought you would like to know.


Sincerely,

Bandwith Challenged Student Teacher Feeling Like a Dressed Up Pink Poodle

Thanksgiving

Room 10 as well as the other 3 first grade classrooms had a Thanksgiving potluck last Tuesday. It was awesome, to say the least. I was surprised that so many parents brought items to share. Not that the parents at my ST school are more (or less) non-participatory than your typical school, but we ARE Title I, and 99.9% of these kids are on a free/reduced price lunch program. I personally would have changed it to only one class (or pair up with another class) for the potluck. Then the parents would only have had to make enough for 20-40 rather than 80+.

But they did, and the teachers supplied pizza, and the kids were So. Very. Full. After lunch it was chaos. One of my students had to just put his head down for awhile.

All the first graders made this "Albuquerque the Turkey" placemat, tracing their hands on construction paper and glueing beaks and waddles to the thing. They turned out rather cute, and I'll make a note to take a photo of one of the absent student's placemat tomorrow and post later.

Everything they did that day had a turkey theme: from the math facts, to a connect the dot activity sheet, to a story book. Hopefully, they will be turkey-ed out and we won't have to mention them for another year.

Sunday seems to be a good day to post. Except for last Sunday, I've been pretty consistent about it for several weeks now. So let's make Sunday my posting day. I'll try to up it to twice a week, but no promises. Which is sad, because there is so much I want to make a note of and comment on. I've learned so much this past semester.

Just say no!

A couple weeks ago (actually, closer to a month ago) was Red Ribbon Week. What I remember of RRW from my own elementary school years consisted of drug sniffing dogs showing off their skills, various competitions among classes for a pizza party, and copious amounts of thin plastic red ribbon tied to the fences, randomly or by design.

Considering that, RRW hasn't really changed all that much. Here's a breakdown of the activities my school participated in:

Monday - start of RRW; pass out those awful, scratchy, "red" but really orange, plastic bracelets that I always was relieved to take off at the end of the week; assembly by a puppeteer/magician with catch phrase "Too smart to start!"; beginning of prize give away at lunch time for students who have their plastic bracelets (each bracelet has a number on it)

Tuesday - nothing related to RRW (except the lunch time give away) because yesterday's assembly was so freaking long that teachers spend all of today catching up on academics.

(I'm not at my student teaching school after Tuesday of each week, but they informed me about it anyway)

Wednesday - students spend some class time working on "Too smart to start!" themed activities; depending on grade level, these activities ranged from drawing pictures of different ways to be "Too smart to start" through the physical, emotional, psychological, and economical effect of drugs.

Thursday - another long-ass assembly, this time a presentation from the local police force, sans drug sniffing dogs (boo, the dogs are cool); murmurs throughout teacher population of doing away with RRW in lieu for teaching actual content; the smarter, more savy, and thus better teachers breathe a sigh of relief (or a smirk of arrogance, depending on the personality of the teacher) for planning ahead and integrating RRW themes into academic content.

Friday - last day of RRW!; competitions in K-3 and 4-6 categories of who drew the best pictures/wrote the best essays about being "Too smart to start!" judged and prizes handed out; the entire school population can finally cut off those plastic bracelets and feel the blood circulate through that hand again.

The funny thing is, most kids at this school probably have more first hand experience with seeing the effects of drugs than any of their upper-middle-class, mainly white teachers. I saw some of the drawings they did; a blind person would have been able to detect the fakeness in some of those illustrations.

Which leads me to ask: are we really teaching students to say no to drugs, or are they the ones playing along, pacifying the adults? Who, for many inner city students, is the sole steady grown-up role model they have and thus want to impress. Because these are the people, maybe the only people, who have higher aspirations for them. Who view through jaded-but-still-rose-colored glasses, hoping that their students will reach that full-ride scholarship to a prestigious 4-year university, unscathed by the environment they live in. Most of these students know, at the bottom of their hearts, parts that they don't even know they have, that statistics are against them, as is practically everything else on the face of the planet.

But they still pop out with pat answers, play acting the dream for the adults who care so much for them and wish them so much better, because these kids know what it feels like to be disappointed.

Wow, I didn't mean to make this entry so angst-filled. On a brighter note, the essays by the older grades were less contrived. A few were quite good. Maybe it's just the natural tendency for younger students to please their teachers that make them do the fake-answer thing. I hope so.

A note on behavior management

This past week made me want to pull out my hair. What is with all the chatter? Is this how people grow up to be obnoxiously loud, especially on their cell phones?

I know I am WAY too lenient. I personally don't really give a damn if people are chattering and not listening to me during daily conversations. Their rudeness is their own problem, not mine, and if they have no desire to listen, well, I have no desire to speak to them.

However, obvious differences in a classroom environment makes me need to care. Students are not going to learn much if they are forever chattering away in personal conversations. Thus, the following will be implemented in strict order, with no exceptions, from now on. And if the Ss start to dislike me, so be it. I am there to teach them something, not be their friend. Or their mother. Which is a whole different issue entirely and, as always, deserves to stand on it's own at another time.

Anyway, my hiearchy of behavior management, moving up the steps if the previous doesn't work:

ONE nonverbal intervention
ONE verbal intervention, consisting of a warning to the next step if they don't shape up
ONE move to an isolation from the group (if at the carpet), or closer to me (if at grouped desks)
ONE phone call home
Ejection from classroom lasting no longer than 15-20 minutes
Principal time; which usually means some form of suspension/detention

Time wasted continues to be taken from recess.

I've done nearly all of these things up to isolating the student from the group. Which usually works and thus no more interventions are necessary. But I have trouble with the ONE of each level. Usually I give them so many second chances to prove themselves, the message being delivered now is that "the consequences to misbehavior are negligible."

But no more Teacher Nice. They will already have a second/third chance with the nonverbal and verbal warnings. It's time to stop babying them and put the responsibility of their behavior (thus the consequences too) on their own shoulders.

$$$$$ vs. $

My CT recently asked me why I prefer working at Title I, or equivalent, schools. I gave her a very impassioned and strong answer - something I haven't been doing for a while now (being impassioned, I mean). When I got home, I wondered why (haven't I been more impassioned lately, that is).

Hmm, maybe not being able to communicate in any coherent way plays a factor. The fact that a lot of theories is being shoved down my gullet right now doesn't help with developing my own opinions very much. Lack of reflection time.

Anyway, Title I schools are awesome. I know most teachers flee to the 'burbs - if they haven't quit already - because of better pay/benefits/local environment and students who don't live as tough a life as inner city kids. But these schools deserve a lot more than what they get. There is just as much talent, if not more, here. There is ambition, intelligence, hard work, and yes, even fun here.

Most of all, the vibe of Title I schools feels so much more comfortable to me. Many students spend the majority of their time at school. They get fed here, they play here, they see friends here, they come into contact with responsible adults who care about their well-being and provide the structure that they need.

Not that all these things don't happen at home sometimes. It's just other times, it doesn't happen at all. Reality bites, even for 7 year olds.

School is where they come into contact with books, stories, problems that they can solve, the social circles that are important to them, and a wider world they may not be able to see from home. These schools are more home-like, sometimes, than their homes. School is where they get flu shots, eye exams, hearing exams. Schools are the first level of detection for CPS, health issues, psychological needs. Some Title I schools open the campus for food drives, as storm shelters, or clothing drives.

Non-Title I schools, or at least the ones I've taught at, are...well...not home-like. At least not to me. The students in these schools have support elsewhere, so school life is not as important to them. They have computers at home, so it's not such a cool thing to use them at school. They have books at home, so getting them at school isn't a novelty. They have friends, responsible adults (although, again, sometimes not), social circles outside of school. Thus school is less a place of community, more like a bunch of buildings that they have to spend 6 hours a day in.

Frankly, the attitudes I see in non-Title I schools are much more intense. Not just about academics, but also about diversity. Students and staff alike.

Now, not all Title I schools are communities, and not all non-Title I schools are arrogant stuck-ups. It's just the tendencies I see. Most of all, I like Title I schools because these kids need me, in all my noobie-student-teacher-mistake-making-insufficient-management-handling glory.

And it's always nice to be needed.