The gym teacher weighs 425 pounds.

Introducing Marquette

The most challenging student I have is a funny little kid named Marquette. He's been diagnosed with ADD and takes Concerta each morning to keep him somewhat sedated. He can often be found doing the exact opposite of what he's supposed to be doing. However, unlike most other ADD students I've had, he is quite pleasant and even hilarious--a natural comedian. This is good, because it keeps me from wanting to strangle him on a daily basis.

In days past, Marquette has come up to me to say, apropos of nothing, the following things, all delivered with perfect comic timing:

"Ms. Sweetland, I have something very important to tell you. From here on, I shall no longer answer to the name Marquette. I insist that you refer to me, rather, as Betty." (Exit Marquette, stage left, imaginary boa trailing wildly behind him.)

"Ms. Sweetland, what's that on your desk? Wait, wait. Don't tell me. Is it a box of family recipes handed down from generation to generation?" (Um, no Marquette, that's actually my coffee mug.)

"Ms. Sweetland, Is it true that ants have no knees? Or is that just a rumor?"

Definitely a rumor.

I have such a great job!

I've started the children on this great project in which I have challenged them to draw a perfect map of the United States, including outlines of each individual state, from memory, by the end of the quarter. I can't even come close to doing this, but I am confident that the kids will be able to. It's an idea I adapted from a Ted Sizemore book--his version was to have high school kids draw a map of the world from memory.

So far the project is going well. I began by giving them each a blank sheet of paper and telling them to just see what they could come up with. The variation among children was fascinating: Ernest's map was all straight lines and angles, remarkably accurate for the Western states, but a bit confused for the curvy states in the East. Several children placed Washington, DC where Washington state actually is. (That's the sort of thing kids come away with when all they're exposed to is badly-done rote learning activities.) Alexus wouldn't even try...my friend/mentor Ms. Brill advises me that this sort of child is a strong whole-to-part learner, unable to do bits of things until the whole can be confidently visualized.

Anyway we labled these first attempts "Attempt #1." After a couple of days spent tracing the US map, we embarked on Attempt #2 and the difference was so striking that all the kids commented on it. I wish I had time to practice with them, so I could do it too!

From today's tests about the Supreme Court:

2. How do Justices get to be on the Supreme Court?
"The President researches and picks a person to fill that spot. After that they have a Confirmation Herring. After the Herring the Senate votes on the person."

--I like the idea of a Confirmation Herring. Maybe it could be genetically altered to turn red or blue, thereby indicating the political leanings of the nominee.

6. What else do you know?

'I know Sandrade Corror is going to retire."

"I know William H quit and died."

"I know that to get off the court, you have to resign, retire, die, or be a peach."

"I know it should be more than one Black person on there."

My principal sat me down with the other new teacher for a little meeting. "Ladies, I have a dilemma," she announced, "and I was hoping you two could help me out."

This seemed like a bad sign since I thought the meeting was to go over some pro forma new teacher stuff and she was just trying to be uncharacteristically efficient by talking to both of us at the same time. But no.

Turned out she wants me to switch classrooms with the second grade teacher. I have quite a large room, but only 11 students. My counterpart, who is brand-new to teaching and experiencing the predictable growing pains, has a smaller room and 23 students. The second grade feels crowded. I, on the other hand, was just about to move a large, clearly optional, 'reading couch' into my room before the meeting started. My principal feels the solution is obvious.

And it is, except that it was also obvious BEFORE SCHOOL STARTED and BEFORE I SPENT THREE WEEKS SETTING UP MY ROOM!

I said this to her, minus the capital letters. Honestly.

I really don't want to move. I like my room. I spent a lot of time and effort putting it together. More importantly, I think it sends a very bad message to the parents and children--everything seems so fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants at the school and it upsets people. (Especially me.) And it will be difficult for the children. Routine, comfort, stability and safety are all very important in establishing a good classroom atmosphere. I've gotten a good start on all that and moving would set my class back. And, moving would add to my workload significantly for a week or two...and I'm at my limit already.

But I know how hard it is to go through your first year, and I want to help the new teacher, and I don't want to second-guess every single decision my so-called boss makes. Honestly. So I said that although it was very upsetting to be asked to do something so disruptive when it could have easily been prevented by a little planning, and that I really didn't appreciate being put on the spot by being asked in front of the other teacher, I would think about it, and talk to my kids about it, and we could probably do it. And then I asked when she thought would be a good time.

"Well, we have a half-day tomorrow, and I was thinking we could all just do it then."

TOMORROW?

She pointed out that the longer the second grade felt cramped, the worse the problem would get.

This is when I wanted to start speaking in capital letters. But instead I just pulled out one of my favorite quotes: "A failure to plan on your part does not constitute an emergency on my part, lady." And yes, I actually said that, but not the 'lady' part.

I don't think she took this very well. And then it occurred to me that maybe it was not one of those things you're supposed to say out loud to people. So I asked if I could have an hour to think about it. She said sure, take my time, but not too much time, because she wanted to let the other teachers know that they'd all be helping me move tomorrow. As if they hadn't already made plans for their work for the afternoon.

She left, and the new teacher left, without saying a word.

And I just burst into tears.

I know it doesn't seem like the sort of thing one should cry over but I felt like I was between a rock and a hard place. If I said no, would my new colleague hold it against me? Would the staff interpret it as me being 'too good' to help out, marking me as even more of an outsider than I already am? And had I really signed on for a year with a boss who made my job harder whenever she got the chance? Too much, too much, too much.

I walked downstairs to talk to Ms. Harris, the kindergarten aide, who is very sweet and wise. She assured me that no one would think less of me if I said no, and that the principal could be infuriating at times, patted me on my head and told me 'please don't cry baby.' Mrs. Thomas, the first grade teacher, said pretty much the same thing, without the head-patting.

All this made me feel like I had the right to say no, which then made me more inclined to say yes. So I went to talk to the second-grade teacher.

"Don't think I asked her for this," she said the moment I walked into the room. "I heard about that idea when you did!"

That totally blew me away. The other teacher was not too psyched about moving rooms, either. "I just set it up!" Word, sister, word.

So we talked about whether she felt the additional space would be helpful...and she said it would, but maybe not so helpful that it was worth the effort and disruption...and we agreed that if we decided to do it, we would do it when we had time to plan.

If I have to move I will be a bit pissed off and slightly bitter but I'm confident I can make the new room work. We'll see what happens. Wish me stability...

First full day of school today--last week was all half-days. Definitely noticed the difference; kids either got antsy or zoned-out, according to their temperments, in the afternoon.

We've been doing a series of personality tests from this great little book called 'Psychology for Kids.' Today the kids found out if they were auditory, visual, or kinesthetic learners. I've got a predominance of hands-on learners, as it turns out, and only one visual learner.

Today we started learning about the Supreme Court--a little out of order, as the curriculum goes, but seems like a good time to do it with the confirmation hearings and all coming up. The discussion was pretty interesting from an assessment point of view: The knowledge level in my class ranges from one girl who could name Thurgood Marshall and cite some of his important cases to another kid who couldn't make sense of the word 'court,' even when class volunteered Judge Judy as an example, until someone did an acutal Judge Judy impression. Whew!

Why Money Matters in Education, Volume 1

It is very stylish nowadays, even for liberals, to admit that "money isn't the only solution" to problems in education. That is such an insult to professional teachers working with completely inadequate resources that it makes me want to cuss, and I often do.

Here is a quick demonstration of a very simple way that funding impacts the quality of teaching. If Iadd up the time I've spent on getting adequate supplies into my classroom--tasks that I wouldn't have to do at a school with more funds--it's clear that money has a made a direct impact on my ability to prepare for actual teaching.

45 minutes: Ordering basic supplies (posterboard, chalk, etc) for my classroom. (Well-run/adequately-staffed schools have someone to do this for teachers.)
30 minutes: Cutting out stupid little letters for my mandated bulletin boards. Teachers in some schools just order these pre-made, but at $6 a set, they're not in the budget here. Teachers in even better schools don't have to deal with bulletin boards at all because they have aides to do them.
45 minutes: Repairing damaged books in classroom library. (With more money, I could either order replacements for badly damaged books and ask the librarian to deal with minor repairs. Here, no budget for books, no librarian...so it's up to me and my trusty roll of book tape.)
45 minutes: Researching printer for my classroom and ordering online.
35 minutes: Setting up printer once it arrived.
15 minutes: Quick trip to Staples to procure printer cable; does not include travel time.
2 hours: Round-trip travel time for extra trip to school on a Saturday to be present to greet and thank community volunteers who were painting my classroom and other rooms in the school.
1 hour: Painting dirty, old teacher's desk and bookshelves so they were fit for classroom use.
2 hours: Sorting through hundreds of donated books to find grade-level texts for my room.

I'm sure there were dozens of similar tasks that I can't even think of at this point--but the running total so far is about eight hours. Every minute (or in this case, each hour) I spend on mundane tasks is time taken away from my main purpose: Designing and delivering high-quality learning experiences for children. So, even though school has been in session for less than a week, already my students are saddled with a teacher who has had one day's less time to plan than kids at schools with more funding. It's easy to see how that could add up over time...and translate, in the long run, to large disparities in teacher effectiveness, just through the simple 'time is money' equation.

Not Fair!

There's a great poem by Eloise Greenfield I shared with my students today:

When I’m by myself
And I close my eyes
I’m a twin
I’m a dimple in a chin
I’m a room full of toys
I’m a squeaky noise
I’m a gospel song
I’m a gong
I’m a leaf turning red
I’m a loaf of brown bread
I’m a whatever I want to be
An anything I care to be
And when I open my eyes
What I care to be
Is me.

Having kids write their own version of this poem is a classic activity lots of elementary teachers use. I am always thrilled with the results by my students. Some of the best couplets my kids came up with today:



I'm a saber-toothed tiger
I'm a sticky-webbed spider
--William, who is far from a saber-toothed tiger, but who hit upon the bright idea of using the dictionary for unusual nouns when he found he was struggling to come up with ideas

I'm a friend holding hands
I'm a one-man band
--Alexus, although I think Taylor really wrote it for her

I'm a silent running deer
I'm a crystal clear tear
--Jada, who I love! I had her older sister Tiffany last time I taught at the school, coincidentally. Wonderful family. And her mom has told all the other parents I'm 'great' so I have a good reputation coming in...nowhere to go but down now!

I'm a sun-hating vampire
I'm an expanding empire
--Anthony, who has quite the vocabulary

I'm a puckery sour pickle
I'm a friendly little tickle
--Taylor, who is The Pretty Popular Girl of the crew

I'm a black chair standing tall
I'm a pouring down waterfall
--Marquette, who is diagnosed with ADD and has been my most 'challenging' student in the class so far, and so I was very pleased to find he's a natural poet! He ended his poem, quite accurately and insightfully: "I'm a dog that can't find his bone/I'm a broken telephone." His classmates commented sensitively that it summed him up well, since he has trouble communicating sometimes, and is often found digging around for his stuff.

Next week we will combine final drafts with a handwriting exercise, and post the finished versions out on our Show Off board.