Asim enters the classroom before school starts. He is a thirteen-year-old built like a refrigerator, and a gentle giant for the most part. His ipod earbuds plug up his ears.
Posts under ‘Teaching in Harlem, NYC’
Silver screen teachers
I saw Freedom Writers with my co-worker/friend Julia a few weekends ago. We’d wanted to see Children of Men, but the film was sold out, and we had few alternatives. Every time the music swelled, Julia unabashedly spilled the coaxed tears. I tried to be more stubborn - I don’t like having my emotions manipulated by depictions of teaching that are so utterly false and unrealistic. Neither does this guy.
Cause and effect
The worst thing a parent has ever (allegedly) said during a parent-teacher conference:
Three amusements
1. This emailed anecdotal from a co-worker:
Both of these students were completely off task during French. I sat at their table and graded papers. The entire class, they talked to each other, complained loudly how wack the school was, griped at each other, did not follow along with the lesson, and tapped their pens. When the rest of their table was doing a good job and not feeding into them, they began talking to themselves. Not to each other, but literally talking to themselves. At one point I even asked Bernice who she was talking to. She just hissed and rolled her eyes. While Kenyon was reading they both talked over him. DaShawn at one point was removed, but came back worse. DaShawn banged on the table, kicked the table, and complained about everything very loudly. They were in their own world and did not follow anyone’s directions. Bernice will serve a removal for Monday in addition to tomorrow and DaShawn will serve a removal for tomorrow.
Letting it unfold
Hello again.
I haven’t felt like writing much during this first week I’ve been back in New York. I now believe that I was suffering a malady far worse than bad salad, though given recently documented cases of e. coli in spinach and lettuce, bad salad is nothing to take lightly. I’ve been exhausted every morning when I wake up, and my stomach still can’t handle eating certain foods. I learned this the hard way when I went out with some co-workers Friday night, and ended up spangling the curb with some margarita-tinged chunks.
Explaining black comedy to my black students
Me: Yeah, like a black comedy.
Ain’t no sunshine
Wowie. I’m exhausted. Time for a mundane blog entry!
I didn’t see the sun all day. It’s amazing how much that zapped my energy. I have a final project to do by Sunday afternoon. Upon its completion, I’m going on vacation. I’ll be working until Friday, but I’ll be baking cupcakes for a student’s birthday and treating my charges with some kind of holiday party. My colleagues and I are also probably taking the kids to Happy Feet. I know I’ll be in lighter spirits, and anticipate going out every night to get some Cade time in before leaving for Texas on the 23rd. Until then, though, I’m stuck in front of the computer blathering on about classroom assessment. I am so ready to be done with this class.
Why I could never teach kindergarten
Karen, my co-teacher: Teaching middle school is challenging. [Turning to the kindergarten teachers we're sitting with]. Your kids are challenging in a different way.
Jane Goodall turns to teaching
I just l-o-o-o-ve teaching middle school! This was an emailed anecdotal at work:
Nyree talked throughout advisory today. She literally interrupted others talking when it was their turn, interrupting me when I was reading, and having her own conversations or argument whenever she felt. Numerous times during advisory she yelled at Quinton, kicked Quinton, yelled out asking to go to the bathroom, and snapped at other student. She did not correct her behavior even with endless reminders. In addition, her body language showed that she was not engaged. She kept slouching, pouting, sucking her teeth, rolling her eyes, and staring into space.
Leveling out
“When I look down, I just miss all the good stuff. When I look up, I just trip over things.” - Ani DiFranco
