Friday, May 14, 2010
by Amanda.
A few months ago, one of my college friends was venting to me via instant messenger. He’s a science teacher at a low-performing school in San Antonio now, which is to say, “The kids are crazy!”
Kids are always crazy to some extent at any school, but science class really brings that out in them. There’s something about all the potentially hazardous chemicals and entropy.
I haven’t taught in a classroom in a few years, but I’m happy to give my thoughts on teaching. Mind you, I’m no expert. My best interactions with kids are one-on-one or in small groups. But I can still think like a teacher.
Here’s a question from Billy, who is no doubt a crazy kid but seems very much like a student I’d like:
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
by Amanda.
Some of the most interesting comments I receive are about teaching in NYC. Longtime readers (or people who’ve read the About page) know that I started blogging to chronicle my first two years as a middle school teacher in Harlem.
Those first two years turned out to be my last two years.
It was an experience I don’t regret, but it showed me that I didn’t want to stay in the education field for myriad reasons.
Monday, December 28, 2009
by Amanda.
How does that story go?
Some woman was attacked back in the 1960’s. It was night. Summer probably. She screamed from the streets and many people heard the commotion and looked out their windows.
And they didn’t do anything. They watched her get killed.
Monday, December 7, 2009
by Amanda.
You never get over being an teacher. I haven’t anyway.
I still think like a teacher, looking for analogies to bridge the everyday with the more erudite.
And yep, I know how I would teach the definition of “erudite.”
Jing and Borun, the eighth-graders I tutor, reap all the benefits. Well, sometimes they reap them. Some lessons are a bust.
Like that time we were reading this really intense article from Slate.com, and I was trying to explain “hegemony” as simply as possible.
“Umm, yeah. Basically, in this case it sucks. Hegemony is something that sucks. Let’s move on.”
I felt as articulate as Sarah Palin.
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
by Amanda.
I’ve always respected teachers.
After my rocky, short-lived stint as a teacher in NYC, I have even more respect for those who stick with it.
And I have the utmost respect for teachers who love what they do and make a real difference. Teachers like Mr. B, the music teacher and chorus director at P.S. 22 in Staten Island.
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
by Amanda.
I still get questions about teaching in NYC from time to time, and they make me feel a bit like a dunce.
Yes, I taught in Harlem public schools for two years. I helped a few kids master reading comprehension and threatened many more with calls home, recess detention, and eternal damnation.
I’m no expert on how to be an amazing inner-city school teacher who could be portrayed by Jennie Garth in a made-for-TV movie.
I’m also no expert on how to be a good inner-city school teacher with her paperwork turned in and half her students in a straight line.
Two years was not enough time for me to get my shit together. I don’t think three years would’ve been, either.
Here’s a question from Jessica:
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
by Amanda.
The weather in NYC changed abruptly in the last few days, so fast I think it deserves a letter in its file.
“A letter in its file” - that’s an allusion to NYC public school teaching that I’d like to dedicate to Dr. Richard Kimball, whomever he may be. Last night, I talked to a friend I taught with at my second school in Harlem. She cringed as she recalled threats of mythic letters in mythic files.
Because really, who possibly cares enough to store these letters? Especially when it’s not like something serious happened? My friend, she of the letters in her file, never mistreated anyone. Her bulletin boards weren’t colorful enough, and she argued that she’d been told the opposite and besides, that stuff didn’t really matter. That’s what got her in trouble.
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
by Amanda.
A few weeks ago, quite a few literary people were buzzing about Mary Gaitskill’s essay “Lost Cat” in Granta 107. The piece is about well, a lost cat. Her lost cat. And what it made her realize about other relationships she’s lost.
Some people were calling it a tour de force. Others were like, “Dude, it’s a cat.”
But as a person who has wept over an English bulldog until tears froze on my face, I could relate.
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
by Amanda.
Today’s the first day of school in NYC. Though I only have one close friend still teaching in the city, I was full of anticipation all weekend.
The beginning of the school year doesn’t really affect me, but I brainstormed what I’d wear and planned to go to bed early. As the rush hour trains fill with kids again, it’s a good time to start anew.
Friday, July 3, 2009
by Amanda.
My friend Elizabeth and I taught at a Harlem charter school together. Though we’ve since moved on to other careers, we still reminisce.
Me: Remember N.? I wonder what she’s like now.
Elizabeth: Probably the same. The kids were so mean to her.
Me: Remember how much I talked to her about how to handle them? She never listened.
