Real Housewife???

I am usually never at home because I work a lot, but this week I am getting a lot of household chores done and mostly staying around the house. I went through all of our boxes in the garage. I had to make sure no mice or rats had gotten into anything in our garage storage. Thank goodness everything was in tact. I vacuumed under all the furniture. I dusted and mopped. I did all of the laundry. I trimmed the vines on the side of the house.

Anyway, my neighborhood is kind of nutty; I am starting to really notice how nutty as I have been here more this week. First of all, it is kind of a retirement neighborhood, so my roommate and I are really young compared to the general demographic. Second, everyone here is really into the neighborhood. For example if we leave the garbage can out an extra hour they push it around the side of our house. Also, every time our neighbors see us they say something along the lines of "We've all been worried about you because you girls never come out of your house." Frankly, I am surprised they haven't kicked me out of the neighborhood because I don't have a little dog to walk around at six in the morning.

I thought I would write about a few of my more colorful neighbors. There is this guy that lives on the street behind us who lives with his wife and a fake woman. Now, his wife is probably in her late fifties or early sixties and the fake woman is clearly modeled after a woman in her twenties. In his garage, this guy has built some sort of man cave. He has a giant Coore's Light sign, a barrel full of beer, and several lawn chairs. The fake woman used to reside in this cave. The first time I saw her, I was really freaked out. She is all legs, and is wearing only a leotard and fish net stockings. I thought it was a very still, very strange living woman until I looked more carefully. Recently, the fake woman has been kicked out of the house entirely. She is now residing in the back of this man's truck. I think his wife said something along the lines of, "It's her or me." It still is a strange sight to see these legs clothed in fishnet sticking out of the back of this man's truck.

There is a woman that lives directly accross the street who is outside every single day. It gets really, really hot here but she is always outside. This woman does walk around her yard, but she also rides around the neighborhood on her scooter with a big red flag sticking out the top. This woman is BFFs with our landlord and his "partner" who used to live in this house. Consequently, whenever we are doing something we are not supposed to do (like trimming the vines on the side of the house) either my roommate or I have to be on guard for the scooter woman. This woman is good at giving the evil eye.

This post is really incoherent, but for anyone else enjoying Fall Break, I hope you are having a relaxing one!

I Wrote This Just for You!

FYI It is Fall Break here so I am not really doing any work and have no substantive comments today.

So, when I was worrying about someone from work finding this, I discovered an interesting tab on blogger I've never used called stats. It tells demographic information about who views your blog (I guess it is not paranoia to think Google is keeping tabs on us). Anyway, the cool thing that I learned is that there are visitors to this site from all over the world. Somehow, I just love that idea! It seems like having friends in far away places.

I am actually a huge geography nerd. I subscribe to National Geographic, I am addicted to the geography games website, and I constantly watch the travel channel. So, I was really excited to see that people in far away places visit here.

The other thing that I learned is that my posts on dating are the most visited (FYI google does not tell me who read what post or where individuals are from; the stats are very general). Something about people reading the dating posts amuses me because I have the least juicy dating life of anyone I know. Maybe, though, people read these because struggles in finding love are more universal than teaching struggles. Anyway, this got me to thinking that I never really followed up with my dating adventures on this blog.

I am not currently dating any of the guys from the website or anyone else for that matter. I quit the dating site. After ending things with Prelawguy, I realized that I had even more trouble opening up and connecting with strangers than with guys I have dated in the past. I just need to be friends with someone and have them be a part of my life first. Yeah, it's a problem for me that I work too much and don't always meet new people. My faith, however, leads me to believe that if there is someone out there for me, then I will meet him. My faith in a providential God leaves me with less anxiety about being single than most women. That is not to say that there isn't any anxiety.

Security Risk!!!

My phone had a cryptic text message this morning from the teacher I switched jobs with two years ago. "Hi Miss Understood, do you have a non-work e-mail address? I'd like to ask you about something, but not through school." I actually don't have a non-work e-mail, so I asked her to call me, but she couldn't call until about five hours later.

I was trying to figure out what she wanted to ask me about and I got totally freaked out that she knew about my blog. I actually blocked access to this website for most of this day. I keep this blog as anonymous as possible, but if you knew me, you could definitely figure out it is about me.

It turns out that she was texting me about something totally different, but it got me thinking: What if someone from my work did stumble across this. It is a long shot, but it is possible. Really, the only thing that I've written about that would get me in trouble is my tumultuous dealings with the former principal.

So, I decided to keep my blog but delete the initial year of posts. It was a tough decision because a part of me wants my initial struggles to be out there for someone going through similar things to read, but the risk is not worth it. If Principal Sadie wanted my head on a platter before, she would want it even more if those posts got out.

There was something therapeutic about deleting those entries anyway. Now, I can't go back and read them. Remembering the exact details about what happened made me a little bitter and now time will dull the memory and the sting.

The Pink Earring

It is like God is testing my resolve to blog about the brighter side of teaching by supplying me with an abundance of blog-worthy situations (ie legitimate complaints burning to get out of my mouth) (ie tear inducing, stress inducing incidents). Anyway, I haven't been so positive.

I was getting myself worked up on the way to work yesterday (ie feeling sorry for myself) (ie brainstorming better careers) (ie pondering injustice) (ie feeling bad about the fact that I can't control the way things are) (ie trying not to cry and ruin my makeup). Anyway, it was about 6am and I walked into good old room 24. My intervention table in the back was empty save one cheap, pink and silver, dangling earring.

On Thursday, one of the "lost boys" as I call them came up to me and presented me with the worthy gift. It was the end of the day, and I was attempting to get the kids to pack up quietly (it sounds a lot easier than it is). He walks up to me, proudly holding his closed fist in front of him. He gives a huge grin and opens his hand to reveal the earring. Now, this same student has brought an interesting list of things to school including hot sauce (the entire bottle), a spoon, an old cell phone, and a candle. "Is that your mom's," I asked him, "She'll probably be wanting it back."

"No, I found it," he explained, "It's pretty. I want you to have it."

"Thank you," I said smiling. I laid it on the back table and forgot about it.

The next day, as I was pondering how I don't get any respect or sleep or a reasonable pay check, I saw the silver and pink, dangling earring on that table alone. I can't explain how, but I realized that I do get something. There is something about the pink, probably stolen, earring that is the "why" I stay in this profession when all of the bad stuff seems overwhelming.

Parent Satisfaction Survey

You know, we are always having to hear about the "Parent Satisfaction Survey" telling how satisfied parents are with their child's teacher. I want a parent satisfaction survey that tells how satisfied I am with the parents I have to deal with. I tell you what, this year I am not satisfied at all! I have two parents in my room this year. Ha ha. That speaks for itself.

The first one is "the parent" at our school. I think you know what I mean. "The parent" that makes the office staff argue about who is going to take the call when their name comes up on the caller I.D. "The parent" who administration tells the secretary to always tell them the principal is in a meeting. "The parent" who is amazed that every year they have the same problems with a different teacher. Yeah, . She actually started complaining about me before the first day of school because "she hadn't heard of me."

Today, apparently she called the principal to demand a different teacher because: I am young. She says that she had a young teacher last year and her son didn't learn anything. She feels sure that this will happen again because I am young. She says that she believes I am a good teacher, but I am a bad fit for her son because he can't be taught by a young teacher. When asked why she felt this way her only justification is that "a mother knows, her son doesn't seem to have enough sparkle in his eyes after going to school, and it is her right as a parent to demand the teacher she wants."

The other parent I have is one of those parents whose idea of being a good parent is ensuring her child gets a good education by regularly complaining. The latest e-mail I got from her was that the homework doesn't have enough Social Studies. "When she was a child she took text books home every night, and her angel has yet to take a text book home this year." The very same day I received a two page e-mail about the lack of Social Studies in the homework; she emailed the teacher of her other child with a different list of complaints. Really, did she just stay up the night before dreaming up a list of complaints for all her children's teachers?

I have so many high needs kids to deal with this year, but what is taking up my VALUABLE time? Entitled. Parents.

Please, someone give me a Parent Satisfaction Survey!

I'm No Superman

I had this dream the other night that I was riding in a car, but I wasn't driving. I was on a freeway, and I saw two children by the side of the road. "Stop, stop there are lost children," I told the driver. When we pulled over, one of the children had Down's Syndrome. She didn't know where her parents were, and she didn't know how to tell me. We followed a long path, but I just remember the strong urge to help her find her way. That feeling from my dream was a really familiar feeling. I feel it every day.

It is a feeling like my best isn't good enough.

In the past, I have struggled with confidence in my ability to teach. In the past, I have struggled with competence in my ability to teach. This year it is different. I really am the best I have ever been as a teacher. I feel happy and confident. I know how to reach my students. I am just truly overwhelmed by the case load of students I am dealing with. I have three students that aren't reading. I wake up all the time thinking about when I am going to teach them to read. More than that, I worry that I am spending so much time with the lowest students that I am neglecting other significant need, and I know that this IS the case.

There is all of this discussion recentely about the superior performance of charter schools in America. I get it that there are some great charter schools out there. Yet, being a really successful charter school seems less remarkable than being a successful public school.

Down the road from my school, is a charter school which by test scores out performs my highly performing public school. A lot of parents want their children to go there, but they won't take just anyone. They take students that will perform and then those students do perform.

My school and my classroom, though seems more American to me. We should have an inscription reading, "Give me your huddled masses, give me your non-English speakers, give me your disabled and impoverished yearning to learn."

On days when I am so tired, I think about the private and charter schools that don't take the tough cases. I think about a vastly smaller number of IEP meetings and not writing ILLPS. I think about how nice it would be not to call disconnected numbers. I think about getting test scores that weren't earned through blood, sweat, and tears. Then, I think about faces.

How could I not be happy to have my quiet little non-reader? How much would I be missing if I never met my little friend with a severe disability? How rewarding is it to here my monolingual student from China converse in English? Like the sick need a doctor, the tough cases need a teacher; and I am that teacher.

I am not superman and sometimes my best isn't good enough to meet every need, but until superman or the education fairy or whatever cure all people are expecting arrives I'll do all I can for whoever walks into my classroom.

Adapting

The thing about teaching is that there is no magic formula, there is no easy answer, and what works in one situation might not work in another. When I was a new teacher, people gave me a lot of advice that was helpful but it was really challenging for me to meet the specific needs of a specific group of students. Now, as a more experienced teacher, well, it is still really challenging, but I have some idea about how important it is to adapt.

This year I would refer to my class as all of the following: Where the Wild Things Are, Land of the Lost, Survivor, Area 51, and the Bermuda Triangle. The art teacher said to me the other day, "You have one of the strangest groups of children I've ever worked with. I tried to picture them as the adults they might grow into, but I just couldn't do it." I was watching third grade recess and I noticed one of my students spent the entire time hitting the tether ball alone. Another one was repeatedly spinning in a circle. Another one was digging alone. Another one was just staring at the wall.

I was watching my class at the third through fifth grade assembly. The teachers turned on some dance music and as I looked around the auditorium almost every class felt too cool to dance. They were all kind of standing there. Not my class. Those kids danced with no awareness of those around them. They ran into each other and didn't seem to notice when the music stopped. That is just who they are. They dance to the beat of a different drum.

I have learned that this group of students is not auditory at all. Even if they are silent and looking at me when I am speaking they retain nothing spoken to them. I write everything in the smartboard and they physically demonstrate what they are supposed to do.

I have to speak in a soft, whisper tone with them because if my voice is louder these kids start humming and making noises and they seem to be unaware they are doing these things.

I have to focus my kids for morning routine. I have always had my class come quietly in and start doing morning work independently. For the first time, I have to gather my kids up front and focus them on the tasks of turning in papers and folders, unstacking chairs, and writing to the morning prompt.

I have to set the kids up for the next subject before we leave the room. When they transition to work time I have to have all 23 of them stand behind their desks check to make sure the correct supplies are out. "Do you have two sharp pencils, your reading book, and your reading journal out?" Then they all sit down and push their chairs under their desks.

I pass out every paper prior to lessons and give instructions away from desks.