So, You Want Me to Undermine My Colleagues, or What?

We had our first parent-teacher conference this past week. Overall, a great experience. I love the chance to talk one-on-one with students’ parents. They see what I’m all about, and I get new insight to the kids I teach.

The last encounter of the night was a little strange, though. It wasn’t a parent of one of my students. It was the parent of another teacher’s student, in the grade below the one I teach.

She was concerned about the teacher her child has (but I didn’t entirely get why). She was concerned about the new standards. (She’s not the only one, but guess what—I kinda like them.) She said she’d talked to the principal before school started, and then again that night. He’d pointed me out to her (I’m not sure why).

Bottom line, I have no idea what this mother wanted from me. Just hoping that I’ll have the same class assignment next year and will get her child? Just wanting to vent and have someone tell her they understand?

Did she want me to say, “You heard right. I’m awesome. Sorry my colleague sucks.”

On what planet would I ever do that?

On what planet would it ever be acceptable for anyone to do this?

That’s my gut reaction. On the other hand, I understand how frustrated parents can be when a teacher isn’t working for their student. There often isn’t much they can do about it, and I really know the kind of impact a bad (or good) math teacher in particular can have on a kid.

On the other other hand (the third one, right?), I’ve already been dealing with teacher reputations a ton this year. I’m the “new” teacher, so kids who didn’t want the other option (whether by past experience or by reputation) transferred to me just for that. The “other option” is not a bad teacher, nor a bad person. We plan our units together. As far as I know, we don’t teach that differently.

Try telling that to the people who figured even an unknown quantity had to be better.

Then again, I agree that sometimes certain personalities don’t gel in a great way, so one teacher might be more effective with certain types of kids than another.

But the end effect is that my classes are all bigger than the others in the grade.

*sigh*

Is there a solution to any of this? Probably not, other than to do what I plan on doing … continuing to do the best job I can in my classroom, and maintain my professionalism at all times.

I’m not going to cut down good, hard-working teachers. I hope no one else would do so to me, either.

People-Watching, Junior High Style

This Friday, a few more random observations from the teen-trenches, post-Parent-Teacher-Conference edition.

Sometimes when two teens don’t get along, it’s mega-obvious. Like, their proximity to each other includes a DEFCON 1 alert. When two such teens are put in the same class, it’s my lucky job to keep it from coming to blows. (One such crisis averted yesterday … I’ll save the sigh of relief, though.)

Sometimes when two teens don’t get along, you’d never know it to look at them in class. One parent said something about one friend of her child hating another friend in the same class. I never, ever would have guessed, so I guess they’re good at faking it. Whatever’s behind it all, I appreciate the lack of drama.

Some parents will tear down a good kid. No, the kid isn’t perfect, a few things can be improved, but on average, the kind of kid you’d want to have.

Some kids try to tear themselves down, and it’s up to the parents (and me) to talk them off the ledge, convince them there’s nothing wrong with having an A-minus at midterm.

Popularity is a weird thing. So are cliques. I have a good rapport with a lot of kids who are similar to me at that age (so, the shy/quiet, slightly awkward, not-so-confident geeks). I also have a good rapport with a lot of kids who are at the highest echelon of the social system (this includes some geeks of a different kind). I am much more popular as a teacher than I ever was as a student, which kind of warps my brain.

Some of the most awesome kids are those who cross those social boundaries as though oblivious to their existence.

Most parents are on the teacher’s side, because they know the teacher’s on the kid’s side, whether the kid thinks so or not. (At least, that’s how it should be, though of course there are bad teachers out there, just as there are bad parents … as noted above.)

Most teens know what they should and shouldn’t do. They know all the great reasons for such things. That often doesn’t stop them from doing what they shouldn’t or not doing what they should. And they know that, too. Knowledge may be power, but it’s no substitute for willpower and self-control.

One of the saddest things is to realize I have more faith in a student’s capability than their own parent.

One of the greatest things is to see the relief in a parent’s eyes when they realize I share their belief in a struggling student’s potential …

… and it makes me wonder if they had teachers in the past who wrote that student off.

I hope I never get to that point. Even on the days when the student tries their best to convince me they’re a hopeless case.

Why Casinos Aren’t Publishers

That’s right, ladies and gentlemen, it’s another math-centric spiel on probability.

We all know why casinos work and make money, right? It’s because they know the odds are stacked in their favor. They go to great lengths to safeguard against cheating. As a player, some games have better odds than others, but the numbers are what they are. You can’t change them—all you can do is know the parameters, consider your choices within them, and take a chance.

As writers, we talk about trying to increase our odds of getting an agent, getting published, making a bestseller list, etc.

It seems a natural statement, but we can’t do it. There are no odds. Odds assume all things are equal—the dice aren’t loaded, the roulette wheel isn’t rigged. In the writing and publishing world, nothing is equal.

We’re all have different strengths and weaknesses. We’re all at different stages of progression. Some have a story agents/editors want right now; some have a story they might have wanted a year or two ago; some have a story agents/editors won’t want for a year or two (or five) yet.

Seriously, no probabilities or odds out there at all.

I can understand the urge to think of it that way, though. Just like the casino, much of what happens is out of our control. And like the casino, there is some luck involved, if only as far as timing—getting the right agent’s (or editor’s) attention at the right time with the right project.

When things aren’t within our control, we tend to think of them in terms of chance, odds, hoping the cards fall our way.

When we think that way, we may forget things that are within our control. Working hard to continually improve our craft. Looking ahead to the next project (and the next, and the next) when the stars don’t line up for one, rather than staying stuck on that one, never moving forward. Educating ourselves on the industry and our options within it.

There is no magic bullet or shortcut, no counting cards or rigging the machines. We can do everything right and still not “win.”

Because there are no numbers to work. There is only work to be done.

Well, there’s one number out there. If we quit—or never get out there in the first place—our “odds” of success are precisely zero. As long as we avoid that number, we’re on the right track.

Teachers Making Do, Like It or Not

We’re a few weeks into the school year, and I admit, I’m not entirely teaching as I’d like to.

I’m not teaching badly (I don’t think), but I’m doing things pretty traditionally. The circumstances added up.

I didn’t find out exactly what I was teaching until just before school started.

We don’t have textbooks yet (supposed to finally arrive this week).

My classes average 38 students each.

More importantly, due to the way our math lab classes for struggling students work, the other 9th grade teacher and I need to stay in lock-step with each other. The same sections covered on the same day, the same homework assignments given.

I’m still free to teach the material any way I want to. But there’s no time for that kind of planning. Not with all the grading that has to be done. And not with counselors still letting students transfer from one teacher to the other.

In the end, though, I feel like I’m making excuses. I could spend every hour outside of school developing my own curriculum (or at least modifying the one I’ve been given). But what about writer-me? What about having free time to keep my sanity intact?

Selfishness or self-preservation? Maybe a little of both.

Despite these reservations, I think I’m off to a good start this year. A few things need tweaks and adjustments. The kids are learning, regardless of how I feel about the style of instruction.

I’ll see what I can do moving forward, and if nothing else, make sure I’m ready to tackle next year more thoroughly.

Mockery—The Permissible Form of Bullying?

Working against bullying is a big deal in schools, as well it should be. I’ve seen workshops, policies, text hotlines, and more. Some efforts seem more effective than others, and for some, I really have no idea whether they work or not. When teens already know they shouldn’t do something, does telling them it’s wrong again really stop them if they’re so inclined?

Not sure. The main things I feel I can do are make it clear that I won’t tolerate bullying in my classroom, and more importantly, set a good example.

Sometimes I wonder what kind of example we set amongst ourselves, though. Especially in this age of social media.

As I browse through my Twitter lists, it’s mostly fun, games, and good information. There are also opinions, which are great. What’s not so great is when opinions are of a type akin to “Anyone who thinks this way/votes this way/belongs to this party or organization is an idiot AND a lesser human being.”

I’m nowhere near perfect, but whenever I disagree with someone, I do try to come at it from an angle that isn’t judging them as a person. It takes a lot of effort—sometimes a crap-ton of effort, sometimes more effort than I can manage—but often I can get myself to the following head-space:

Their view on this is the total opposite of mine. We couldn’t disagree more on this. But I see where they’re coming from, and coming from there, what they think is reasonable for them. I still believe what I think is reasonable for me. We see it differently, and that’s okay.

I have friends all along various spectrums—political, religious, whatever—so this mindset is very important to me. They’re fabulous people—even the ones who hate math!

If a student vocally, stridently denigrated (for instance) people who buy into creationism, or gay people, or people who own guns, or people who have a live-in boyfriend … if they did that in the middle of class, knowing there’s every likelihood that someone in the room falls into that category, would we let it go?

Why, then, is it okay to watch a political party convention (either one) and go to town with mocking tweets, declaring the utter stupidity of everyone associated with that party?

Because we’re adults and should be able to take it? Isn’t that the old response to bullying? “You need to toughen up and just take it.” Because we’re free to fight back? That always goes well.

My opinion (and yes, just my opinion, so you can disagree): The way forward is in understanding. Not necessarily agreement. Definitely not homogeneity. But understanding where other views come from, and trying to find common ground.

Mockery closes doors and raises walls. My hope is that we all (myself included) will remember to think before we tweet (or post, or whatever). Who will be on the receiving end? Might I be actively insulting them by saying this?

Are my words hiding hate behind a veil of snark?

And what kind of example am I setting for future generations?

"But My Writing Teacher Said (or Asseverated) …"

Speaking of undoing what other teachers have done …

Did anyone else go to school and have a poster or handout with 75 or so alternatives to “said”? Bellowed, whispered, mumbled, hissed—ooh, that last one sparks fights. Can you actually hiss words?

Enter the world of aspiring novelist and you’re told to only use “said,” if you must use a dialogue tag at all. Maybe “asked” if you really think the question mark isn’t doing its job.

There’s another one I see all the time when students ask me to look at their writing assignments. I’m not sure what their English teacher’s stance is on it, which makes it hard to know what to say.

Descriptions. Extreme overuse of adjectives. Since I don’t teach English or creative writing, I don’t have a volume of teenage story samples, but from what I have seen, it’s near impossible for a character to enter a scene without making their hair and eye color known, at minimum.

Thing is, they’re kids. They’re learning. Maybe their teacher wants them to be more descriptive and develop that skill. If their own character/setting visualizations are too transparent on the page, maybe that’s all right for now. Maybe they need to lay it out there in black and white as they practice, working toward more nuanced ways of painting pictures with words.

Weaving description into a narrative is an art all its own—one I’m constantly working on improving myself. Getting characters to speak (or whisper or mumble or even hiss) for themselves is another one.

How do you take students (or writers in general, at any age) from these school-days practices to more seamless techniques?

How did any of us get there? Personally, I find it hard to pinpoint where/how I learned specific things about writing. I can tell you how I learned about differential equations. I can’t tell you how I learned about writing dialogue that works, creating multi-dimensional characters, or even most grammatical conventions.

That’s always made the idea of teaching something like language arts mind-boggling to me.

Any such teachers out there who can share how they approach teaching creative writing in their classrooms? When students decide they want the math teacher’s opinion (because word of her “other job” got out), what kind of feedback might I want to give?