One of the greater achievements of Chinese civilization is that the Middle Kingdom gifted the rest of the world a professional bureaucracy.
Thanks, but no thanks.
Bureaucracy unnecessarily, and usually expensively to taxpayers or patience, gets in the way of what should be mundane, routine, or easy.
The Arizona Department of Education's teacher certification program is one example of where the T'ang Dynasty can take back it's contribution to global governance. (At least I believe it was the T'ang).
I should not have to wait for three hours at the ADE to get my papers processed. And when I do, I should be able to receive my certificate then and there, not have to wait for it. And I shouldn't have to pay $120 for it. And I shouldn't have to guess (wrongly, it turns out) which of the ADE's two offices to hit up for my certification.
I'm glad and fortunate to be certified to teach (I'm 21 and with a professional certification - that's pretty cool), and considered "Highly Qualified" at that because of my kickass PRAXIS scores. I just feel like a little instant gratification after waiting a whole afternoon at the ADE was appropriate.
Sorry for complaining, again.
peace and love from the grand canyon state,
pb
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
Language Arts
One thing the (in)famous Mr. Teach-Cop said when I told him I was teaching was "Language Arts? I've never heard of that."
I think most people are used to hearing about teaching reading or writing, not both - and I'm teaching both.
I mean, how can you teach one without teaching the other? Text must be written; what is written must be read. Two sides of the same coin. Two peas in a pod.
Naturally, I thought teaching both would be a breeze. After all, I was on such a role with teaching reading my first week at Institute, writing must come naturally, right?
No. Not by a long shot. The achievement gap is a literacy gap. And with literacy must come advanced thought, and creativity. That is lacking in underprivileged schools, many of which are so focused on testing and funding, and the unrealistic and unrepentant and unfounded demands of the teachers' unions, that creativity and analytical thought are not stressed. How can you teach prewriting when your kids cannot brainstorm? For that matter, how do you teach brainstorming when your kids' creative synapses have not been nurtured and taught to burst forth and fire at random?
Teaching writing is tough, and I let it show. Not that teaching reading skills are really that easy, but it certainly came more naturally for me.
I got frustrated when I taught writing, especially with kids with special needs who needed some differentiation. I tried a one-size-fits-all approach; didn't work. I tried writing investment strategies; didn't work.
What does work? Individual, one-on-one writing workshops. Modeling. And I learned that a little late in the game for my Agua Fria SuperStars.
Day One in my new classroom, and I'm fortunate enough that Pioneer starts late and I can still look forward, and not back, at Day One, I'm integrating both reading and writing in my Language Arts instruction. Two sides of the same coin. Two peas in a pod.
Maybe I learned a thing or two from Institute, after all.
peace and love from the grand canyon state,
pb
I think most people are used to hearing about teaching reading or writing, not both - and I'm teaching both.
I mean, how can you teach one without teaching the other? Text must be written; what is written must be read. Two sides of the same coin. Two peas in a pod.
Naturally, I thought teaching both would be a breeze. After all, I was on such a role with teaching reading my first week at Institute, writing must come naturally, right?
No. Not by a long shot. The achievement gap is a literacy gap. And with literacy must come advanced thought, and creativity. That is lacking in underprivileged schools, many of which are so focused on testing and funding, and the unrealistic and unrepentant and unfounded demands of the teachers' unions, that creativity and analytical thought are not stressed. How can you teach prewriting when your kids cannot brainstorm? For that matter, how do you teach brainstorming when your kids' creative synapses have not been nurtured and taught to burst forth and fire at random?
Teaching writing is tough, and I let it show. Not that teaching reading skills are really that easy, but it certainly came more naturally for me.
I got frustrated when I taught writing, especially with kids with special needs who needed some differentiation. I tried a one-size-fits-all approach; didn't work. I tried writing investment strategies; didn't work.
What does work? Individual, one-on-one writing workshops. Modeling. And I learned that a little late in the game for my Agua Fria SuperStars.
Day One in my new classroom, and I'm fortunate enough that Pioneer starts late and I can still look forward, and not back, at Day One, I'm integrating both reading and writing in my Language Arts instruction. Two sides of the same coin. Two peas in a pod.
Maybe I learned a thing or two from Institute, after all.
peace and love from the grand canyon state,
pb
Happy (Belated) 234th, America!
Think of any of the iconic roads that drum up timeless images of Americana, and the list narrows down to a few: Route 66, Broadway, Pennsylvania Avenue.
And the Las Vegas Strip. What's more American than the glitter, glitz, and glam of Vegas?
Naturally, it was the perfect place to heartily celebrate America's 234th birthday.
I've talked about how much I just love Las Vegas. But, after getting lazy with my blogging, I never really go to talking about how my 4th of July weekend there actually was.
Answer? Awesome.
Now, I've been called crazy before, and I may indeed be. And I have done, and continue to quite regularly do, some crazy things. But one thing I am not crazy enough to do is jump out of an airplane.
Think about it: you're not even supposed to be up there in the first place (Do you have wings? Oh and then there's, umm...GRAVITY). So once you are up there, in relative comfort and safety, why the hell would you jump out?
So I was not as crazy as my friends who woke up at 6AM on the 4th to celebrate their liberty and freedom by freely falling out of a perfectly good airplane and plummeting 13,000 feet to the Strip below (let alone crazy enough to wake up at 6AM in the first place).
But my friends did go skydiving, and me and the other sane ones enjoyed our morning rest at the TroLo before heading over to Caesar's for some craps and pool time.
I don't love gambling, which is good, because if I did, I would certainly be even poorer than I am right now, what with my luck. I can never find the right balance; I'm either too conservative, or too liberal with my betting, or I never know the rules and nuances of the games well enough to win big. I mean, I dabble, but I'm not a huge fan.
Maybe I should be. My friends hit the craps tables, and hit 'em hard, racking up hundreds of dollars in winnings. I lost $4 in video poker and called it an afternoon. I should've just lit my money on fire myself, it would have done as much good and been far more fun.
So we rendez-voused with the Crazies (our friends who went skydiving) and headed to the Caesar's pool.
The Caesar's pool is actually like a seven-pool complex that is totally free and open to the public. It's probably about as ornate as Caesar himself enjoyed, although with a great deal of Vegas kitsch thrown in.
And I'm sure good old Julius paid a hell of a lot less for his drinks than I did.
Pool time means pretty brown skin time. I got my tan on, and was perfectly happy celebrating my 4th by relaxing, and drinking, all day by the pool.
Dinner was a purely American affair - burgers. Well, not just any burgers - the current trend in Vegas, and nationwide, seems to be boutique upscale burger joints, and Le Burger Bistro at Paris in Vegas certainly fits that bill. I mean, the name itself literally glitters with pretentiousness.
But it's delicious. Imagine: crispy, crunchy Chick-fil-A style waffle fries smothered in sour cream and guacamole, and covered with barbeque chicken, black olives, and fresh red onions. I hope that's what heaven is like.
And that was only the appetizer; with appetizers like that, it's no surprise I can't remember the damn meal. Context clues suggest I ate a burger, though.
We rushed through the meal, naturally, in order to make the Strip in time for fireworks. Now, we weren't entirely sure there would BE fireworks, or where they would be, or when. But it being July 4th, and it being Las Vegas, we were sure the show would be epic.
So we ran out there, and sure enough the sky was just beginning to light up above Caesar's. And we had the perfect spot, right in front of Bally's, to catch the illuminations.
If anywhere can put on a show, it's Las Vegas, Nevada. Bigger and better than any fireworks show I've ever seen, the sky was ablaze for more than half an hour, I'm sure.
4th of July fireworks on the Strip, that's pretty American.
It was too early by far to hit up the clubs, so we went in to Bally's, and I caved. We hit up the craps tables and threw some dice. Throwin' dice, that's pretty American too, right?
I ended up exactly even. If someone wins in Vegas, someone loses, and I wasn't winning, so I damned sure made certain I didn't lose either. At least I was sober enough to "know when to hold 'em, know when to fold 'em", so to speak.
The next move was uncertain. We decided to head over to Caesar's to hit up Pure, one of my favorite clubs in the world, when a suited man approached us on the bridge to the Bellagio.
Turns out the guy was a promoter for Bank, the club in the Bellagio, and we had been, in the words of one of my friends, "flagged as a good looking group of people". The promoter gave us free drink tickets, put us on the list, and we were set: to the Bellagio we would go.
Now, I know that it's this guys job to build up his club and get people in the door. But it sure does feel pretty damn swanky to be approached and flattered and given free drink passes to a club as nice as Bank.
Bank was preceded by some good old-fashioned pregaming at Caramel, the Bellagio's bar, with 2-for-1 drinks courtesy of Mr. Promoter (I still have "Bank Promoter" saved as a contact in my phone...you never know when you'll need to hop the line and jump over the velvet ropes in Vegas).
Then, no wait time in line and an elevator ride and $50 cover later (yes, I know, a bit steep. But it was Vegas, and the 4th of July, and, again, we were flagged as a good-looking group of people. Totally worth it), we arrived.
Bank is awesome. I've been to a ton of clubs all over the place, but this was just...cool. Nice atmosphere, a good DJ playing pretty much only songs I knew (it's like he stole my mental iPod), and great friends.
I just wished my pictures turned out better. The bubble-showers and free champagne were pretty cool.
A night of partying accomplished, we left Bank as a beautiful moon shone down, out-shining, it seemed, the neon of Las Vegas Boulevard.
What a great, quintessential 4th of July: pool time, burgers, fireworks on the Strip, throwing dice, partying hard. What's more American than that?
peace and love from the grand canyon state,
pb
And the Las Vegas Strip. What's more American than the glitter, glitz, and glam of Vegas?
Naturally, it was the perfect place to heartily celebrate America's 234th birthday.
I've talked about how much I just love Las Vegas. But, after getting lazy with my blogging, I never really go to talking about how my 4th of July weekend there actually was.
Answer? Awesome.
Now, I've been called crazy before, and I may indeed be. And I have done, and continue to quite regularly do, some crazy things. But one thing I am not crazy enough to do is jump out of an airplane.
Think about it: you're not even supposed to be up there in the first place (Do you have wings? Oh and then there's, umm...GRAVITY). So once you are up there, in relative comfort and safety, why the hell would you jump out?
So I was not as crazy as my friends who woke up at 6AM on the 4th to celebrate their liberty and freedom by freely falling out of a perfectly good airplane and plummeting 13,000 feet to the Strip below (let alone crazy enough to wake up at 6AM in the first place).
But my friends did go skydiving, and me and the other sane ones enjoyed our morning rest at the TroLo before heading over to Caesar's for some craps and pool time.
I don't love gambling, which is good, because if I did, I would certainly be even poorer than I am right now, what with my luck. I can never find the right balance; I'm either too conservative, or too liberal with my betting, or I never know the rules and nuances of the games well enough to win big. I mean, I dabble, but I'm not a huge fan.
Maybe I should be. My friends hit the craps tables, and hit 'em hard, racking up hundreds of dollars in winnings. I lost $4 in video poker and called it an afternoon. I should've just lit my money on fire myself, it would have done as much good and been far more fun.
So we rendez-voused with the Crazies (our friends who went skydiving) and headed to the Caesar's pool.
The Caesar's pool is actually like a seven-pool complex that is totally free and open to the public. It's probably about as ornate as Caesar himself enjoyed, although with a great deal of Vegas kitsch thrown in.
And I'm sure good old Julius paid a hell of a lot less for his drinks than I did.
Pool time means pretty brown skin time. I got my tan on, and was perfectly happy celebrating my 4th by relaxing, and drinking, all day by the pool.
Dinner was a purely American affair - burgers. Well, not just any burgers - the current trend in Vegas, and nationwide, seems to be boutique upscale burger joints, and Le Burger Bistro at Paris in Vegas certainly fits that bill. I mean, the name itself literally glitters with pretentiousness.
But it's delicious. Imagine: crispy, crunchy Chick-fil-A style waffle fries smothered in sour cream and guacamole, and covered with barbeque chicken, black olives, and fresh red onions. I hope that's what heaven is like.
And that was only the appetizer; with appetizers like that, it's no surprise I can't remember the damn meal. Context clues suggest I ate a burger, though.
We rushed through the meal, naturally, in order to make the Strip in time for fireworks. Now, we weren't entirely sure there would BE fireworks, or where they would be, or when. But it being July 4th, and it being Las Vegas, we were sure the show would be epic.
So we ran out there, and sure enough the sky was just beginning to light up above Caesar's. And we had the perfect spot, right in front of Bally's, to catch the illuminations.
If anywhere can put on a show, it's Las Vegas, Nevada. Bigger and better than any fireworks show I've ever seen, the sky was ablaze for more than half an hour, I'm sure.
4th of July fireworks on the Strip, that's pretty American.
It was too early by far to hit up the clubs, so we went in to Bally's, and I caved. We hit up the craps tables and threw some dice. Throwin' dice, that's pretty American too, right?
I ended up exactly even. If someone wins in Vegas, someone loses, and I wasn't winning, so I damned sure made certain I didn't lose either. At least I was sober enough to "know when to hold 'em, know when to fold 'em", so to speak.
The next move was uncertain. We decided to head over to Caesar's to hit up Pure, one of my favorite clubs in the world, when a suited man approached us on the bridge to the Bellagio.
Turns out the guy was a promoter for Bank, the club in the Bellagio, and we had been, in the words of one of my friends, "flagged as a good looking group of people". The promoter gave us free drink tickets, put us on the list, and we were set: to the Bellagio we would go.
Now, I know that it's this guys job to build up his club and get people in the door. But it sure does feel pretty damn swanky to be approached and flattered and given free drink passes to a club as nice as Bank.
Bank was preceded by some good old-fashioned pregaming at Caramel, the Bellagio's bar, with 2-for-1 drinks courtesy of Mr. Promoter (I still have "Bank Promoter" saved as a contact in my phone...you never know when you'll need to hop the line and jump over the velvet ropes in Vegas).
Then, no wait time in line and an elevator ride and $50 cover later (yes, I know, a bit steep. But it was Vegas, and the 4th of July, and, again, we were flagged as a good-looking group of people. Totally worth it), we arrived.
Bank is awesome. I've been to a ton of clubs all over the place, but this was just...cool. Nice atmosphere, a good DJ playing pretty much only songs I knew (it's like he stole my mental iPod), and great friends.
I just wished my pictures turned out better. The bubble-showers and free champagne were pretty cool.
A night of partying accomplished, we left Bank as a beautiful moon shone down, out-shining, it seemed, the neon of Las Vegas Boulevard.
What a great, quintessential 4th of July: pool time, burgers, fireworks on the Strip, throwing dice, partying hard. What's more American than that?
peace and love from the grand canyon state,
pb
I sat
I'll keep writing about Intenstitute until the cows come home, I don't care. It's been over for a while, thankfully, but I still feel like, to really share my experience to a non-TFA, to really get to the meat and potatoes of what it is I do as a Corps Member and what I will do in the classroom, I need to go back to the roots of my experience - Intenstitute.
One of TFA's innumerable acronyms is ISAT - Institute Student Achievement Toolkit (which isn't quite as good as BARB - the Big Ass Red Book). The ISAT was our curriculum for the four weeks of Institute - it included our standards, objectives, calendar, curriculum scope and sequence, and pre- and post-assessment.
It was awful. First off, how am I supposed to be expected to teach prewriting strategies IN ONE DAY?? I don't think it's fair to the kids, or me, to expect that.
The objectives were way too broad; the curriculum far too expansive to cover in four weeks.
That was bad - but the worst, the WORST thing I hated about the ISAT was its assessment tool. Paragraphs were missing from long passages; typos were strewn throughout; hell, of 20 questions on the damn thing, I even missed a few, not because I cannot master Arizona's 8th grade reading and writing standards (or let's hope not), but because of the ways in which the questions were worded. If three of the multiple choice answers are ALL equally correct, which one were students supposed to pick?
I own my successes and missteps in Institute, and I know this. I am not making excuses. But when you, and your students, are measured by such a shitty standard, how can I perform?
Case in point: characterization. On this objective in the ISAT pre-test, 47% of students mastered it. On the midterm, 82% did. Wonderful, real success. However, on the ISAT final, after touching on characterization twice more and in review, only 73% mastered the objective. Umm...that's not accurately reflecting student, or by extension, my progress.
Parts of plot: 27% on the pre-test, 93% (!) on the midterm, 45% on the post-test.
Maybe I am making excuses; after all, I will have to deal with standardized tests that are out of my control as long as I am an educator.
Or maybe, as everyone at Agua Fria complained about it, the document was flawed. Just sayin'.
I hated the damn typo-infested thing, poorly written objectives and questions and all.
I don't miss being held to that flawed standard.
peace and love from the grand canyon state,
pb
One of TFA's innumerable acronyms is ISAT - Institute Student Achievement Toolkit (which isn't quite as good as BARB - the Big Ass Red Book). The ISAT was our curriculum for the four weeks of Institute - it included our standards, objectives, calendar, curriculum scope and sequence, and pre- and post-assessment.
It was awful. First off, how am I supposed to be expected to teach prewriting strategies IN ONE DAY?? I don't think it's fair to the kids, or me, to expect that.
The objectives were way too broad; the curriculum far too expansive to cover in four weeks.
That was bad - but the worst, the WORST thing I hated about the ISAT was its assessment tool. Paragraphs were missing from long passages; typos were strewn throughout; hell, of 20 questions on the damn thing, I even missed a few, not because I cannot master Arizona's 8th grade reading and writing standards (or let's hope not), but because of the ways in which the questions were worded. If three of the multiple choice answers are ALL equally correct, which one were students supposed to pick?
I own my successes and missteps in Institute, and I know this. I am not making excuses. But when you, and your students, are measured by such a shitty standard, how can I perform?
Case in point: characterization. On this objective in the ISAT pre-test, 47% of students mastered it. On the midterm, 82% did. Wonderful, real success. However, on the ISAT final, after touching on characterization twice more and in review, only 73% mastered the objective. Umm...that's not accurately reflecting student, or by extension, my progress.
Parts of plot: 27% on the pre-test, 93% (!) on the midterm, 45% on the post-test.
Maybe I am making excuses; after all, I will have to deal with standardized tests that are out of my control as long as I am an educator.
Or maybe, as everyone at Agua Fria complained about it, the document was flawed. Just sayin'.
I hated the damn typo-infested thing, poorly written objectives and questions and all.
I don't miss being held to that flawed standard.
peace and love from the grand canyon state,
pb
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
TTD
A little bit ago, I wrote about how much I love countdowns. I think it's because of the mild triumph one feels when slowly but surely approaching "0".
That's exactly how I feel about my somewhat legendary To-Do Lists.
Right now my To-Do List has 24 things on it; my To-Blog List has 29. But I just love crossing things off. I think, subconsciously, that's why I add so many things to the list - to feel the sense of accomplishment, and yes, triumph, when I cross something off of it.
So I'll cross off #27: To-Do Lists on my To-Blog list and move right along.
It feels good.
peace and love from the grand canyon state,
pb
That's exactly how I feel about my somewhat legendary To-Do Lists.
Right now my To-Do List has 24 things on it; my To-Blog List has 29. But I just love crossing things off. I think, subconsciously, that's why I add so many things to the list - to feel the sense of accomplishment, and yes, triumph, when I cross something off of it.
So I'll cross off #27: To-Do Lists on my To-Blog list and move right along.
It feels good.
peace and love from the grand canyon state,
pb
A Little Bit of Calcutta
Arizona is certainly a state prone to climactic extremes - it has both the hottest metropolitan area in country (Phoenix), and one of the coldest (Flagstaff).
But, on the whole, and as everyone has been warning me since mid-November when I was placed here, Arizona is primarily a dry, arid state. Hell - I live in a desert.
Now, that being said, I'll talk about another place I've lived for just a second. Hong Kong, in the Asian subtropics, was about as non-arid as it gets. Hong Kong was wet. Monsoons were serious business - they call it "Black Rain", because you can't see a damn thing when it happens.
I loved Hong Kong - I hated the weather, and I'm glad to be done with it. It was the worst thing I hated about Hong Kong.
I've always associated monsoons with the tropics, with Asia, with India, with rainforests.
I no longer think those things. Arizona is prone to monsoons, too. The Arizona Monsoons mean the dry, sunny desert can become a cold, wet, humid, flooded mess in about 8 seconds. Seriously. You see those black clouds, you run. And if you're stuck in a wash, which are the dried streams in the desert, you're dead when those suckers flood. (I would provide a reference link for that, too, but I just learned that on a CSI: episode a few years back, but I'm sure it's true. Look it up if you must, but I place much faith in Gil Grissom and his crew.)
It's actually beautiful. But they wreak havoc on the Valley's transportation systems during the month of August. I mean, the freeways shut down. Traffic comes to a standstill. Despite, the police presence on the roads, Zonies are...how can I say this...interpretive drivers, at best. No one knows how to drive in rain, so people literally just put cars into park on the freeways. A 10-minute commute becomes a fifty-minute one.
I have a friend from Arizona (I hope you're reading this, Kimberly!) who had to ask us how windshield wipers worked - don't deny it Kim, we were in BK. But that's pretty much par for the course here.
The Arizona Monsoon is like when it snows in North Carolina or when a chicken runs around with its head cut off: fun to watch, and beautiful (maybe not so much the chicken), but you don't really want to be the one involved in it.
peace and love from the grand canyon state,
pb
But, on the whole, and as everyone has been warning me since mid-November when I was placed here, Arizona is primarily a dry, arid state. Hell - I live in a desert.
Now, that being said, I'll talk about another place I've lived for just a second. Hong Kong, in the Asian subtropics, was about as non-arid as it gets. Hong Kong was wet. Monsoons were serious business - they call it "Black Rain", because you can't see a damn thing when it happens.
I loved Hong Kong - I hated the weather, and I'm glad to be done with it. It was the worst thing I hated about Hong Kong.
I've always associated monsoons with the tropics, with Asia, with India, with rainforests.
I no longer think those things. Arizona is prone to monsoons, too. The Arizona Monsoons mean the dry, sunny desert can become a cold, wet, humid, flooded mess in about 8 seconds. Seriously. You see those black clouds, you run. And if you're stuck in a wash, which are the dried streams in the desert, you're dead when those suckers flood. (I would provide a reference link for that, too, but I just learned that on a CSI: episode a few years back, but I'm sure it's true. Look it up if you must, but I place much faith in Gil Grissom and his crew.)
It's actually beautiful. But they wreak havoc on the Valley's transportation systems during the month of August. I mean, the freeways shut down. Traffic comes to a standstill. Despite, the police presence on the roads, Zonies are...how can I say this...interpretive drivers, at best. No one knows how to drive in rain, so people literally just put cars into park on the freeways. A 10-minute commute becomes a fifty-minute one.
I have a friend from Arizona (I hope you're reading this, Kimberly!) who had to ask us how windshield wipers worked - don't deny it Kim, we were in BK. But that's pretty much par for the course here.
The Arizona Monsoon is like when it snows in North Carolina or when a chicken runs around with its head cut off: fun to watch, and beautiful (maybe not so much the chicken), but you don't really want to be the one involved in it.
peace and love from the grand canyon state,
pb
Relentless Pursuit of Results
All TFA Institute have wrapped up now, I believe, so I won't ruin anything by writing this post - I've waited so long so I wouldn't spoil the surprise! Now that Alina, who ended Institute last, is entrenched in Vegas and done with Institute, I can FINALLY write this post about something that happened in early July!
Every week during Intenstitute - and yes, I'm still writing about it, and probably will be for some time, as, I think most Corps Members would agree, Institute is a pretty formative milestone for most TFAs - we would get a schedule at the beginning of the week letting us know what sessions were coming up during the upcoming days. DCA sessions are about diversity and working with communities, parents, and administrators; management sessions are exactly what you would think - classroom management strategies.
On the Tuesday of the third week of Institute, which was the halfway point, there were two mystery sessions on the schedule: Relentless Pursuit of Results 1 and 2 - and they were scheduled to take all afternoon.
Aww hell, I thought - 4 hours of Institute sessions. That's like, to paraphrase one of my favorite humor authors, Dave Barry, about 28 hours worth of a more enjoyable activity, such as open heart surgery without anesthesia. Disclaimer: Sessions were informative. Sessions were helpful. Sessions were...long.
Anyway, I braced myself for the worst - extra snacks, extra papers to grade, and I made sure I sat at a table with Play-Doh (During Institute, we were allowed to play with Play-Doh to keep ourselves occupied and stay awake. We were kindergardeners). Actually, come to think of it, I think I may have stolen some Play-Doh that day to make sure I had some.
Not important. So were all, all of us, in this room, everyone's thinking the same thing: what the hell is going on? We don't have sessions altogether, we don't ever have "Relentless Pursuit" sessions. There had to be something afoot.
My CMA - think of her as my Instenstitute mentor - told us that the Relentless Pursuit sessions were her favorite part of Institute. This was puzzling. WHAT was going on?
The nervous tension in the room mounted. The session began, but not with a PowerPoint, but with a discussion between the CMAs, about how other Institutes called their Relentless Pursuit sessions (bear with me; I know I'm bogging down in TFA speak, and I'm sorry) "TFA Day".
This makes sense...Relentless Pursuit of Results is one of TFA's Core Values, and that's one of the first ingredients of the Kool-Aid they make everyone drink during Induction.
But wait for it...the conversation between the CMAs took a bizarre, thrilling, and joyous turn - turns out TFA Day stands for TOTALLY FREE AFTERNOON!
YES! We had a totally free afternoon, with no 4 hour sessions, no lesson planning, no nothing. Only fun activities, like karaoke, happy hour specials at The Vine, basketball tournaments, and a Mexican fiesta in the dining hall. So what did I do?
Nothing.
(Haha - astute readers I'm sure would have predicted I headed over to booze up at the world's best bar AKA The Vine, but I have you all fooled. How I've matured since graduation...)
Bliss. I laid by the pool, working on my pretty brown skin and my novel. It was perfect; a break in the middle of Instenstitute is like an armistice that ends a world war: well-deserved and couldn't have come soon enough.
In fact, not only could it not have come soon enough, but it came at the exact perfect day: the day before had been my Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day.
The stars were aligned. The timing was cosmic.
TFA has a lot of traditions that are passed down from Corps to Corps as time goes by, but even though I had worked for the recruitment staff for a year, I had no idea TFA Day was coming - it is the best kept secret in all of TFA (unless there is a secret that Wendy Kopp is secretly Mikhail Gorbachev, or something like that - I mean have YOU ever seen them at the same place at the same time??).
Sorry if I ruined the surprise for any potential 2011 CMs reading this - but don't tell anyone and look forward to an AWESOME and rewarding day - a chance to relax, reflect, and get your tan on.
peace and love from the grand canyon state,
pb
Every week during Intenstitute - and yes, I'm still writing about it, and probably will be for some time, as, I think most Corps Members would agree, Institute is a pretty formative milestone for most TFAs - we would get a schedule at the beginning of the week letting us know what sessions were coming up during the upcoming days. DCA sessions are about diversity and working with communities, parents, and administrators; management sessions are exactly what you would think - classroom management strategies.
On the Tuesday of the third week of Institute, which was the halfway point, there were two mystery sessions on the schedule: Relentless Pursuit of Results 1 and 2 - and they were scheduled to take all afternoon.
Aww hell, I thought - 4 hours of Institute sessions. That's like, to paraphrase one of my favorite humor authors, Dave Barry, about 28 hours worth of a more enjoyable activity, such as open heart surgery without anesthesia. Disclaimer: Sessions were informative. Sessions were helpful. Sessions were...long.
Anyway, I braced myself for the worst - extra snacks, extra papers to grade, and I made sure I sat at a table with Play-Doh (During Institute, we were allowed to play with Play-Doh to keep ourselves occupied and stay awake. We were kindergardeners). Actually, come to think of it, I think I may have stolen some Play-Doh that day to make sure I had some.
Not important. So were all, all of us, in this room, everyone's thinking the same thing: what the hell is going on? We don't have sessions altogether, we don't ever have "Relentless Pursuit" sessions. There had to be something afoot.
My CMA - think of her as my Instenstitute mentor - told us that the Relentless Pursuit sessions were her favorite part of Institute. This was puzzling. WHAT was going on?
The nervous tension in the room mounted. The session began, but not with a PowerPoint, but with a discussion between the CMAs, about how other Institutes called their Relentless Pursuit sessions (bear with me; I know I'm bogging down in TFA speak, and I'm sorry) "TFA Day".
This makes sense...Relentless Pursuit of Results is one of TFA's Core Values, and that's one of the first ingredients of the Kool-Aid they make everyone drink during Induction.
But wait for it...the conversation between the CMAs took a bizarre, thrilling, and joyous turn - turns out TFA Day stands for TOTALLY FREE AFTERNOON!
YES! We had a totally free afternoon, with no 4 hour sessions, no lesson planning, no nothing. Only fun activities, like karaoke, happy hour specials at The Vine, basketball tournaments, and a Mexican fiesta in the dining hall. So what did I do?
Nothing.
(Haha - astute readers I'm sure would have predicted I headed over to booze up at the world's best bar AKA The Vine, but I have you all fooled. How I've matured since graduation...)
Bliss. I laid by the pool, working on my pretty brown skin and my novel. It was perfect; a break in the middle of Instenstitute is like an armistice that ends a world war: well-deserved and couldn't have come soon enough.
In fact, not only could it not have come soon enough, but it came at the exact perfect day: the day before had been my Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day.
The stars were aligned. The timing was cosmic.
TFA has a lot of traditions that are passed down from Corps to Corps as time goes by, but even though I had worked for the recruitment staff for a year, I had no idea TFA Day was coming - it is the best kept secret in all of TFA (unless there is a secret that Wendy Kopp is secretly Mikhail Gorbachev, or something like that - I mean have YOU ever seen them at the same place at the same time??).
Sorry if I ruined the surprise for any potential 2011 CMs reading this - but don't tell anyone and look forward to an AWESOME and rewarding day - a chance to relax, reflect, and get your tan on.
peace and love from the grand canyon state,
pb
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