Teach For America teacher blogs are on Teach For Us

I <3 Scholastic!!

jessi — Thu, 23 May 2013 03:20:00 +0100

The Delta has an ELA initiative and we had two assignments to complete at the end of pre-work. One, which was optional, was to gather books for our classroom libraries. This was so much fun!! I guess you can tell, dear reader, that I am in fact a book nerd. I love books. One of the people in our Delta facebook group mentioned scholastic so I signed up for a teacher account. I also joined the scholastic book clubs. I felt like a kid in a candy store. I ended up ordering 48 new books for my classroom. I will add those to books I already have and hopefully have a great start to a classroom library. I highly recommend the scholastic book club to anyone who needs books. There are tons of books on sale and you get points for more books for each dollar you spend - win, win. Anywho, another tid-bit about scholastic is that they have warehouse sales. You can find a warehouse near you and volunteer at the sale. For each hour you work, you receive ten dollars worth of free books. On top of that most books are 50% off at the warehouse sales. My sister-in-law and I have been hitting the warehouse sales for a few years now. Unfortunately, when I moved I sold most of my books :( However, it is another great way to build your library. I just wanted to share as I await my box of books. I am so excited. I hope that my students will enjoy them as much as I enjoyed choosing them!

The Tornado

daltongoodier — Wed, 22 May 2013 15:06:07 +0100

I was I my classroom, waiting for a parent to show up when the administrators came over the loudspeakers. “Everyone in the portables needs to evacuate into the main building.” We’d heard rumors of storms and had been told by our principal to come to school prepared for some rough weather but so far we hadn’t yet experienced anything. As I stepped outside of my classroom, the rain was just beginning to fall on the portables. I lingered for a few moments because I didn’t have a class and was afforded the luxury of helping other teachers evacuate instead of being directly responsible for my own brood. As the last students scurried into the building, small bits of hail started to fall and thus began my experience with what many have been calling the worst tornado in recorded history. All every sense of the word, we were lucky. All of the southside schools spent much of the afternoon on lockdown but none of us received any real damage. In fact, it was impossible for us to know just how bad things were on the outside. Internet and cell services were spotty at best and so I had no idea that such devastation was occurring in Moore, a scant couple of miles away. This was my first ever tornado experience and all it looked like to me was a bad rainstorm with hail mixed in. Parts of the school’s parking lot and walkways flooded but that was the extent of it. The craziest part was the fact that the school was in lockdown until 45 minutes after school would normally dismiss. As we went in to lockdown, an inordinate number of parents started showing up looking for their kids. If you’ve ever seen RMS, you know that the building is designed to survive the worst. It might not be aesthetically pleasing, but I couldn’t believe that parents wanted to take their kids out of this fortress of a school back to the wooden one- and two-bedroom houses that so many of my students come from. In the end we had most of the families come in and take shelter in the gym until things passed over. After we wouldn’t let her take her son home, one mother declined our offer, saying that she’d left her two other kids at home and had to get back. As she walked away, I could only shake my head. All in all, the kids were great throughout the entire experience. No one had a meltdown and I haven’t heard of a single instance of disciplinary problems. The students hunkered down in their safety locations and were able to ride out the storm in good spirits, which made everything so, so much easier. For us, the storm ended as quickly as it started. We went from hail and pouring rain to sunshine and a settled mugginess within the span of maybe two minutes. It took us a while after to dismiss, but at that moment we knew we’d gotten through. Busses ran late and today we have no running water (you read that right- for our whole school!) but all things considered, everything’s been nothing short of perfect. It wasn’t until I finally followed the last student out at 5 that I realized how bad things were. Once I got far enough north, I regained cell reception and was slammed with about 30 texts from friends and family all over the country asking if I was okay. Twitter was dominated by the news. So many of my fellow Corps Members took to Facebook, telling their loved ones that they were okay. Only when I started to see all these things did I realize just how bad things were. Things didn’t entirely sink in until I got home and watched the news with Uncle Pat and Gramps. My thoughts and prayers are with those in Moore. Four of my good friends live there but their house was spared. The outpouring of love and offers to help from all over the city and state have warmed my heart. My MTLD and the Executive Director of TFA Oklahoma both reached out to me personally to make sure I was okay, which meant a lot. It was quite an experience for me and my kids, but it doesn’t begin to compare what those in Moore are dealing with. For those looking for a way to help, you can text RED CROSS to 90999. Be safe everyone.

Overheard in Chipotle...

abcde — Wed, 22 May 2013 00:49:28 +0100

"You were a real nice teacher, Mr. K!" -T.R., former student, after chatting with me for the first time in 2 years. I'm working in DC for the summer, and I'm living in the same neighborhood as before. This, of course, means the inevitable--bumping into students on the street. I was standing in line at Chipotle this evening when I noticed T.R. We caught up. It's crazy to think that the last time I saw her was two years ago--and that she'd graduated from high school already. How time does fly...

Moore,Oklahoma Tornado

gdwest999 — Tue, 21 May 2013 04:51:33 +0100

Tomorrow morning, the headlines will be dominated by a huge tornado that destroyed 30 square miles of Moore, Oklahoma today. Moore is a community that is just south of Oklahoma City. The OKC metro area is huge. It extends from Edmond and Yukon in the north (possibly even Guthrie, to be honest) and goes all the way down to Norman. Moore is a densely populated area with many new homes and nice, upscale businesses. This is what was left in the trail of the tornado's 2 1/4 mile base: The twister destroyed an estimated 500 homes, a movie theater, several businesses, and most horribly, two elementary schools. So far several elementary school children were found drowned inside their school. There were several stories of devoted teachers who covered their cowering students with their own bodies to protect them from flying debris and saved their lives. One man recounted his team having to pull a car that was thrown through the wall of a school off a teacher who had three children underneath her. None of them survived. The devastation is unimaginable. It looks like a tsunami wiped the landscape clean. Blocks after block, nothing was left standing. Some of the meteorologists say this was the worst tornado ever witnessed. Debris from Moore is still falling in Branson, Missouri some 250 miles away. At our school, we received the notification to head to the designated shelters shortly before the storm came through. We were about 5 or 6 miles north of the area. Our school has lots of discipline problems and very few of the kids ever want to comply with the instructions during tornado or fire drills. They wanted to argue with us as we insisted they get into position. It was incredibly frustrating. Here we had school children dying just a few miles away and our kids only wanted to give us pushback and backtalk. I find this incredibly frustrating. My military experience taught me the need to be obedient to regulations. Sometimes you don't always know why you need to obey. There's not always time to ask questions and get answers before we comply. Immediate compliance could mean the difference between life and death. It frustrates me that, even in a real, life-threatening emergency, our students don't take anything seriously. I approached one girl who refused to get into the safety position next to the wall and I told her emphatically, "Look, this storm has just destroyed two elementary schools a few miles away! Get down on your knees!" Her answer was, "F**k them! I don't care!" That's so disturbing! It's one thing to struggle to deal with the achievement gap and problems like investment. We're so far away from that at my school, it's unreal. Our kids need to have lessons in human empathy first, not reading or math! Their lives are so messed up that we have to teach them how to be human first. How do you invest them in learning when they're really not even invested in life? I don't mean to sound cynical, but it's more important to teach them to care about other people. They laugh when someone hurts himself or herself. They rejoice in the misfortune of others. It's no wonder that many of them don't care about reading better or improving their future chances in life. Seeing this callousness and lack of empathy is troubling. The death toll is far from final at this point. I don't know if I'll be at school tomorrow. OKC wasn't hit by the storm, but it took me five hours to get home because of the roads that were closed. If it takes that long to get back, I would have to leave in about 15 minutes (it's almost midnight now) to arrive in time. I'm grateful that the storm didn't hit my home or neighborhood and I'm thankful that it didn't hit our school, also. I mourn for the loss of the children at the two elementary schools and the inevitable grief to be experienced by the parents. I don't worry that the kids I teach will be too traumatized by the incident. I worry that they'll be nonplussed by it. If you're a praying person, I invite the reader to invoke whatever deity you worship and ask for blessings for our neighbors in Moore, OK. While you're at it, send a few bucks to the Red Cross or other local charities. They'll need all the help they can get.

Goodbye

waywardjournalist — Mon, 20 May 2013 04:03:39 +0100

I held off on telling my students that I was leaving at the end of my corps member experience. My kids don't know what Teach For America is, but they do know that all of the white teachers in this town have a weird habit of staying for only a two-year period. And I knew that, despite my intentions, I had to make that announcement to somewhat cap off the winding down of the year, as I felt it would result in lesser investment from students. I knew the cat would get out of the bag quickly, so I chose to break the news to one of my afternoon classes on Thursday -- the class most curious about me as a person -- before telling every other class on Friday. After spending weeks deferring all questions, I promised that I would make an announcement in the final five minutes of that Thursday class. And so, I did. And it was hard, in a way that I never thought possible. As established in every other post on this blog, I don't really like anything about my placement. And in that way, my job search and subsequent employment in Houston was so exciting and liberating, because I had nothing of value that I was losing by leaving this place. Or so it seemed. But by telling my students in that class that I was leaving, I broke the 21 most valuable relationships that I had made at the school where I teach. It was hard to make the words come out, but they did. The class turned somber, a few mouths dropped, and others were left speechless. Yet there was an awkward sense of excitement.

"Sir, can we take pictures?" "Sir, will you sign my yearbook?"

(we did neither, as I am still there for a few more weeks.) While I was not in tears, I was closer than I could have ever imagined. (Spice Girls - Goodbye)

One Fine Morning---

memphismind — Fri, 17 May 2013 01:24:56 +0100

"Gatsby believed in the green light, the orgastic future that year by year recedes before us. It eluded us then, but that’s no matter—tomorrow we will run faster, stretch out our arms farther. . . . And then one fine morning—"

On January 7th, I received an e-mail from Teach for America informing me that I was invited to join the 2013 Memphis Corps. Upon acceptance, I have spent the last semester talking with my future Corps Members, engaging in Onboarding curriculum with my TLC group, trying to organize my life and fathom moving my hundreds of books, and learning about & instilling TFA's mission. Two days ago, I was hired at a charter school to teach secondary English.

In two weeks, I will move to Memphis, TN for real to begin Institute-- the first time Memphis has had its own Institute training program.

I am scared, but excited. I am empowered. I love my students already, and I have not even met them yet.

Feel free to follow me as I reflect on my life-changing journey! :)

Why We Don't Stay (Even Though I Am)

Caroline — Thu, 16 May 2013 03:52:42 +0100

I'm getting fat. I've picked up a few awful habits in past months and lately have spent a lot of time dedicated to thinking of why I haven't taken care of myself. Why I'm not on fire. Why these are statements, now, and not raging exclamations, or questions, at least. I'm disappointed in myself. My spine might have turned to jelly, my teaching pedagogy might have changed to getting by, status quo, hiding. No one watches me teach. No one coaches me. No one holds me accountable. No one knows any different. I'm getting lazy. Lazy is a word I've adamantly ignored because I feel there is a very incredibly damagingly negative connotation, and it's usually misused. Maybe I forgive too easily, maybe I make too many excuses, but I think very, very few people are genuinely LAZY. They are stuck, they are emotionally messy, they are unbelieving that they can complete the task at hand. Rarely lazy. Mostly fearful. But I'm lazy. I know better, I expect more, I am capable of more, I am scared of I've turned myself into and perhaps more scared of why. I don't run. I do the minimum at school. I eat poorly. I drink constant caffeine and my body feels bloated and useless. I'm a mess, pretty much. This is part of what's stopped my updates. The laziness, and mores the embarrassment that comes as a result. Bigger than that: this is my Third year. I'm TFA-grown and by golly, I should know better. I should do better. I should be better than a first or second year teacher because regardless of anything else I've been here longer and I know what it means to work hard and I know what it means to have high expectations and I expect myself to have them. Until I lose motivation. Or accountability. Or anyone around me that has the time or energy to point out I've stopped working as hard. To call me lazy. Third year TFA means No Longer TFA means Good Luck and Have Fun Feeling Alienated because if you're not on staff and not a corps member, well, then you're a teacher. You should have figured it out by now. This makes me fear the fourth year. I simultaneously very much want to plan and don't want to plan at all. Facing failure, again, is scary. Keep me where I'm safe and dry and hidden! Keep praising me for Staying A Fourth Year because no one Really wants to stay here, do they. Well, yes, sometimes. I love my community for my community, not for TFA, not for proving a point, not for being a martyr or earning incredulous and totally uninformed compliments. I love being here and I know there are other teachers who love being here, too, but if people wonder why it's so hard to stay, why so many TFAers leave so quick: this is why. The support runs out. The well runs dry. Or as I've said 800 times in the past three months: you hit the ceiling. It seems the only people who can help develop alumni are entirely (and rightfully, in the sense of a job) dedicated to the current corps. The rest of us, they figure, MUST be doing SOMETHING right or we wouldn't have stayed that this or fourth year, right? We'll be fine. And yes, we will be fine. We always are. But what about our kids?

Input // Output

Caroline — Mon, 13 May 2013 21:28:01 +0100

Lately I've felt anything but consistent. Ecstatic? Sometimes. Crushed? Sometimes. Exhausted? A lot of times. It's the end of year three and despite a mostly clean bedroom, despite the kaleidoscope sunlight dancing on my bed, despite long hair and big plans and so many things that push me up today I feel low. I've written more than one post, a few half-complete, one eaten by the surprise computer attack, and none posted because life keeps coming up before computers. I miss writing. I miss chronicling. Today I came home and crawled into bed, stayed alert to the texts and phone calls I have about this year's talent show and continue feeling conflicted about everything. I can't cut out some concise picture of life right now, so again, sadly, I'll consolodate with bullets mostly for the sake of recording. Hopefully consistent posts will show up again sometime soon.

Two weeks ago we had a BB gun shooting at school. It was a pretty big deal, and created a stir in the community, and put us on local news twice in a week. It made teaching difficult from a psychological perspective-- a sad time.
Someone I care about was hospitalized for a week for fear that a suicide attempt. I find it interesting that while my best friends were literally attempting suicide while I was in high school and college I could thick skin myself out of being too distraught about it. This person, though, brought me to tears with just a note saying it's been contemplated. Funny what maturity brings.
I feel, maybe selfishly and maybe falsely, that I am giving a lot. In many circumstances. To the point where I feel I am continuing to do this and feeling slightly more bitter about it each time, but these things I'm "giving" have a quickly depreciating value and I can't fix the quality. I am trying to have a strong output, to stay refreshed and motivated and happy, but instead I am grinding metal against concrete, I am pushing with nothing but air I am falling shorter and shorter each time.
My biggest complaint of recent times is that I feel I have little help, and little confidence. I whine about it but today the sixth grade team had everything taken care of, and I found myself in a surprising (and worrisome) backseat at a meeting. I was so grateful because the talent show and my personal life have been taking everything out of me (but I'm embarrassed to say that because of the results of both). But I feel like a perpetual failure lately. The culture in my classroom is often horrific. My lessons have hardly existed the past few weeks. My summer hangs over my head, a dangling tantalizing treat, but just past that is a class of kids. Kids I'm ignoring because I'm so focused on something I want and can't yet have. It is excruciating.

Most of this, today, is coming from a lack of sleep. It's unfortunate that the days I actually post are the days I am feeling the weakest. This year has been wonderful, and I'm excited for next year, but right now I just want to sleep.

19 days left in China...

jessi — Sat, 11 May 2013 16:55:55 +0100

I only have 19 days left in China and then I head back to the states. Soon after I set my feet on U.S. soil I am going to drive to the Delta. I know it is going to be a whirlwind. I cannot leave sooner because of my current job at an international school. Honestly, I am not looking forward to going through induction with jet lag. China is 13 hours ahead of the Delta - I am praying I will adjust quickly. I am trying to finish the year strong and remain present. It is so hard not to think of the future. However, I had a moment of realization the other day. I was reminded of the quote "Character is who you are when no one is looking." I was teaching at English Corner. It is a free English class that I voluntarily teach on Friday nights. I always thought that I would be a somewhat lazy teacher if I didn't have the accountability of a school or standards. What I realized about myself is that I really do enjoy teaching! I feel like I have been going through the motions a bit this semester. English corner has helped me to remember that teaching does fill my cup, and that I truly do love what I do. I am so happy that I had this realization before the chaos of the next few weeks ensues. I hope everyone enjoys the next three weeks we have before institute. I also hope that your time is not as hectic as mine! :)

No room for vindication

daltongoodier — Fri, 10 May 2013 19:55:18 +0100

I watched the tears stream down his face while his mother continued to abscond him in here broken English. "I work hard every day for you. Your teachers, they work hard every day for you. Is this what you want? Is this the life you want to lead?" Eduardo* continued to cry but didn't say anything. It was the longest silence I'd heard from him all year. While his mother continued to tear into him, I looked aorund at the passive faces of Eduardo's other teachers. It was a familiar scene that has played out many times this year: we set up the meeting, briefly make the parent aware of what's been going on, and then step back and watch the parent go to work. I can't tell you how many Spanish conversations I've listened to, understanding only because of the unmistakable tones being used. Eduardo has been one of my biggest problems all year. Although he's quite intelligent, he's often content to scrape by with the bare minimum and he's got quite the attitude. I admit that part of this is my fault. Especially when I was brand spanking new, I didn't have the means or the wherewithal to challenge him. He got used to being bored in my class and learned to not respect me. I've been paying for that lack of ability all year. However, over the last month or so, he went from being a nuisance to a major distraction in my class. He started going out with one of my students who got suspended for drugs and the addition of another new student in his class really threw him off. I assigned him lunch detention and he didn't go, knowing that he couldn't get suspended because state testing was going on. I tried to call home and his parents promised again and again to come up, only to always no-show their appointments. The next day, Eduardo would come in laughing. "I heard you tried to get my parents to come up." Finally, I wrote him up and reccomended that the principal suspend him pending a parent conference. After a three day wait, his mom arrived, leading to the aforementioned crying episode. When the smoke had cleared, I stepped in and explained to him again what the expectations for school are. I told him that a person of his intelligence could achieve so much more. He sniffled and nodded. Ever since then, he's been a model student. The whole episode told me something: down here, there's no room for vindication. This kid deserved to get reamed. He deserves to fail the 7th grade. For all the anguish he's caused others (he bullies another kid sometimes and from time to time deliberately destroyed things in my room just to be spiteful), he had something coming. But in that meeting, watching him cry, I wasn't thinking about that at all. I didn't see the bully or the lazy kid or the jerk or the obnoxious loudmouth. Instead, I just saw a hurting child who just wanted to be liked. Who just wanted his mom's affection. Who just wanted his teachers to leave him alone. Who made fun of others because there was nothing he himself was proud of. Down here, there's no room for getting even. There's no room for hoping people get what's coming to them. There's no room for justice in the way that most of us think of justice. It reminds me of a quote I once heard: "The beauty of grace is it makes life unfair."