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
O Pioneers!
A lot of the facets of TFA require a lot of trust and blind faith. I don't have a background in education, but I'm expected to become a teacher, and I trusted that TFA will magically morph me into a damn good one in the five weeks of Intenstitute. I moved to Phoenix having never been here before, but trusted that TFA would orient me around the city enough to the city that I would be comfortable here, the heat notwithstanding. Hell, I signed up to move here not even having a job placement - just the obscure promise of a job placement to come.
TFA places in all Title One schools - schools deemed by the federal government to have sufficiently high populations of students subsiding below the poverty line (and subsiding is about all you can do if you're below the poverty line) as to qualify for additional federal grant money. Those are the schools in which the achievement gap is most pronounced.
Think of your pre-existing archetypes of a low-income school...what do you think of?
Now think of the exact opposite, and you're picturing the school in which I now work. Pioneer Preparatory School is a brand new K-8 public charter school sponsored by The Challenge Foundation serving the low-income Maryvale neighborhood in Phoenix's underprivileged west side. Everthing gleams and glistens, from the walls to the tiled floors, to the employees' smiles. The staff is a young, energetic, and dedicated team of professionals dedicated to closing the achievement gap. The facilities are state-of-the-art, and the finishing touches are literally being applied to the brand-spanking-new building as we speak. The school is completely wireless, and classrooms are equipped with laptops, printers, document cameras, and LCD projectors. The library is fully stocked.
I'm not trying to brag - OK, wait...I'm trying to brag. It's just that I'm really excited, and certainly lucky, that TFA could have placed me in literally dozens of decaying schools throughout the Valley with jaded staffs, and I am at Pioneer. I don't know what I did to deserve this, but I'm thrilled, and it's up to me to take this gift of a placement and run with it - these kids deserve it.
peace and love from the grand canyon state,
pb
PS When I said the school was brand-new...I lied. It existed last year as a K-2 school with 4 teachers, 80 students, and borrowed rooms in the Boys and Girls Club. We now have a staff of 30 and 423 students and growing. But when I mentioned the staff was dedicated...I did not lie. The four original teachers had to set up and take down their classrooms each day - here's a YouTube clip of them doing just that.
That's dedication.
TFA places in all Title One schools - schools deemed by the federal government to have sufficiently high populations of students subsiding below the poverty line (and subsiding is about all you can do if you're below the poverty line) as to qualify for additional federal grant money. Those are the schools in which the achievement gap is most pronounced.
Think of your pre-existing archetypes of a low-income school...what do you think of?
Now think of the exact opposite, and you're picturing the school in which I now work. Pioneer Preparatory School is a brand new K-8 public charter school sponsored by The Challenge Foundation serving the low-income Maryvale neighborhood in Phoenix's underprivileged west side. Everthing gleams and glistens, from the walls to the tiled floors, to the employees' smiles. The staff is a young, energetic, and dedicated team of professionals dedicated to closing the achievement gap. The facilities are state-of-the-art, and the finishing touches are literally being applied to the brand-spanking-new building as we speak. The school is completely wireless, and classrooms are equipped with laptops, printers, document cameras, and LCD projectors. The library is fully stocked.
I'm not trying to brag - OK, wait...I'm trying to brag. It's just that I'm really excited, and certainly lucky, that TFA could have placed me in literally dozens of decaying schools throughout the Valley with jaded staffs, and I am at Pioneer. I don't know what I did to deserve this, but I'm thrilled, and it's up to me to take this gift of a placement and run with it - these kids deserve it.
peace and love from the grand canyon state,
pb
PS When I said the school was brand-new...I lied. It existed last year as a K-2 school with 4 teachers, 80 students, and borrowed rooms in the Boys and Girls Club. We now have a staff of 30 and 423 students and growing. But when I mentioned the staff was dedicated...I did not lie. The four original teachers had to set up and take down their classrooms each day - here's a YouTube clip of them doing just that.
That's dedication.
Arkies and Okies
So this is a weird thing about me, but I like to know things about states. For example, the state nickname for Minnesota is The North Star State and people from Maine are called Down Easters. I did not even have to Wikipedia those for verification; I just, for whatever reason, know them.
So I know that people from Arkansas are called Arkies, and people from Oklahoma are called Okies. These names were derogatory terms from the Dust Bowl when people from those states migrated in large numbers to California and were looked down upon (justifiably, I would assume) by the cosmopolitan Californians with which they then lived.
Well, people from Arizona have a nickname too: it's Zonies. Yup, not even making that up. I came across this the other day when I was asked at an in-service training, "Are you a Zonie?"
That got me thinking (always dangerous): Am I? I mean, so few people are actually from Arizona originally, that how long does it take to be "from" here?
That's always been interesting for me; I've lived so many different places that it's hard to say where I'm "from". I usually say Baltimore, or Maryland at the very least, but sometimes, when it suits me, I would say North Carolina - you know, throw in a few y'alls, and tell people I was from NC, and suddenly I'm a charming southerner.
I don't think two months necessarily qualifies me as a Zonie, but I'm working on it.
peace and love from the grand canyon state,
pb
So I know that people from Arkansas are called Arkies, and people from Oklahoma are called Okies. These names were derogatory terms from the Dust Bowl when people from those states migrated in large numbers to California and were looked down upon (justifiably, I would assume) by the cosmopolitan Californians with which they then lived.
Well, people from Arizona have a nickname too: it's Zonies. Yup, not even making that up. I came across this the other day when I was asked at an in-service training, "Are you a Zonie?"
That got me thinking (always dangerous): Am I? I mean, so few people are actually from Arizona originally, that how long does it take to be "from" here?
That's always been interesting for me; I've lived so many different places that it's hard to say where I'm "from". I usually say Baltimore, or Maryland at the very least, but sometimes, when it suits me, I would say North Carolina - you know, throw in a few y'alls, and tell people I was from NC, and suddenly I'm a charming southerner.
I don't think two months necessarily qualifies me as a Zonie, but I'm working on it.
peace and love from the grand canyon state,
pb
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
Alternate Universes
Somewhere, in another universe in another dimension, I am not a middle school teacher.
In the waning days of Intenstitute, our kids were asked a series of questions about us, and the results were compiled in a PowerPoint that we were shown on our last day at Agua Fria.
When asked what my greatest strength is as a teacher, the answer was "He has a ton of energy." I took that as a huge compliment.
When asked what I could do better, the answer was "Nothing, keep doing what you're doing." I took that as an even huger compliment.
When asked what I would be doing if I weren't a teacher the answer was "Librarian."
There were giggles in the room. I was surprised at first, but then remember that, as an English teacher, being called a librarian is pretty cool. At least they know I like books.
Then I remember that I used to BE a librarian; I worked for two and a half years at the UNC Music Library. They obviously have a sixth sense for these things.
So then it all made sense to me - in some alternate universe, I am not a middle school teacher. I am a librarian. And I am OK with that - kind of. They said another teacher, Erica, would be a "cool librarian". Apparently, I would be a not-as-cool librarian. Womp, womp.
peace and love from the grand canyon state,
pb
In the waning days of Intenstitute, our kids were asked a series of questions about us, and the results were compiled in a PowerPoint that we were shown on our last day at Agua Fria.
When asked what my greatest strength is as a teacher, the answer was "He has a ton of energy." I took that as a huge compliment.
When asked what I could do better, the answer was "Nothing, keep doing what you're doing." I took that as an even huger compliment.
When asked what I would be doing if I weren't a teacher the answer was "Librarian."
There were giggles in the room. I was surprised at first, but then remember that, as an English teacher, being called a librarian is pretty cool. At least they know I like books.
Then I remember that I used to BE a librarian; I worked for two and a half years at the UNC Music Library. They obviously have a sixth sense for these things.
So then it all made sense to me - in some alternate universe, I am not a middle school teacher. I am a librarian. And I am OK with that - kind of. They said another teacher, Erica, would be a "cool librarian". Apparently, I would be a not-as-cool librarian. Womp, womp.
peace and love from the grand canyon state,
pb
"Mr. Boyle is Awesome!"
Institute was five weeks long; the kids were in the actual Ninth Grade Success program for four of those weeks. Not a long time.
But since TFA is soooo data-driven, they found time, in the second week of instruction, to fit in a midterm exam. We actually started planning it after only four days of teaching. This was to give us a good pulse check to see where our students were, what we had accomplished thus far, and to identify any gaps in what we had done to that point in the classroom.
I know it’s a little odd for me to write about the midterm when they’ve already taken the final and Institute is already over, but the midterm turned out to be great for me, and it actually came at the perfect time. I had struggled the two lessons before with my writing instruction – the kids just weren’t getting it, and the really didn’t like to write – I was wearing thin. But in life, there always seems to be those moments that pick you up when you need them to most, that get you back on track towards success, and that revive your mind and spirit when you need it most.
I’ve never enjoyed midterm exams, so who’d’ve thunk that the midterm exam would be one of those moments for me?
I was already relieved, since I wouldn’t be giving a writing lesson and would be administering the test, instead, so I could regroup and find ways to better focus my writing instruction. My only goals for the day were to invest the students in the test, and to make sure they actually took the damn thing without any mishaps.
Test days are fun days.
So they come back from lunch, and they’re always a bit rowdy when they come back from lunch, so I decided to channel that energy into something positive. I’ve mentioned a few times that, in some cases, no one has ever really told these kids how good they are, or how well they can do, so I decided we would take some investment time and do just that.
They walk in, and with all of my built up Intenstitute crazy energy, I run around the room and point at each of them shouting “You’re awesome! And YOU’RE awesome! And YOU’RE awesome! And Jonathan’s awesome! And Melissa’s AWESOME!”
If anyone has seen my adaptation of Dave Cook’s “Humpback Whale” routine, you can visualize that and have a pretty good idea of what was going on in J4.
Well, they got super into it. They started pointing at each other and shouting “You’re awesome! And you’re awesome! And I’m awesome!”
The best part was when Melissa pointed at me and shouted “And Mr. Boyle is awesome!”
YES! Greatest triumph as a teacher to that point. I was super proud. It’s a great feeling to know you have actually reached your kids as a teacher. One of the best feelings I can think of.
I then made all of them stand up and shout with me “I…AM…AWESOME!”
Maybe no one had told any of them they were awesome before, but it’s the little things that seem to make the biggest difference. The kids sat down, took their midterms – and performed astoundingly. 86% mastery of objectives!
We were so proud of them – our hard work, and their hard work – had paid off. Two students even got 100% on the exam.
Not only did they find my awesome, but they apparently found my class awesome too, and showed amazing progress on the midterm.
I mentioned earlier that my moods were strongly tied to my performance in the classroom – I was on cloud nine that day.
peace and love from the grand canyon state,
pb
But since TFA is soooo data-driven, they found time, in the second week of instruction, to fit in a midterm exam. We actually started planning it after only four days of teaching. This was to give us a good pulse check to see where our students were, what we had accomplished thus far, and to identify any gaps in what we had done to that point in the classroom.
I know it’s a little odd for me to write about the midterm when they’ve already taken the final and Institute is already over, but the midterm turned out to be great for me, and it actually came at the perfect time. I had struggled the two lessons before with my writing instruction – the kids just weren’t getting it, and the really didn’t like to write – I was wearing thin. But in life, there always seems to be those moments that pick you up when you need them to most, that get you back on track towards success, and that revive your mind and spirit when you need it most.
I’ve never enjoyed midterm exams, so who’d’ve thunk that the midterm exam would be one of those moments for me?
I was already relieved, since I wouldn’t be giving a writing lesson and would be administering the test, instead, so I could regroup and find ways to better focus my writing instruction. My only goals for the day were to invest the students in the test, and to make sure they actually took the damn thing without any mishaps.
Test days are fun days.
So they come back from lunch, and they’re always a bit rowdy when they come back from lunch, so I decided to channel that energy into something positive. I’ve mentioned a few times that, in some cases, no one has ever really told these kids how good they are, or how well they can do, so I decided we would take some investment time and do just that.
They walk in, and with all of my built up Intenstitute crazy energy, I run around the room and point at each of them shouting “You’re awesome! And YOU’RE awesome! And YOU’RE awesome! And Jonathan’s awesome! And Melissa’s AWESOME!”
If anyone has seen my adaptation of Dave Cook’s “Humpback Whale” routine, you can visualize that and have a pretty good idea of what was going on in J4.
Well, they got super into it. They started pointing at each other and shouting “You’re awesome! And you’re awesome! And I’m awesome!”
The best part was when Melissa pointed at me and shouted “And Mr. Boyle is awesome!”
YES! Greatest triumph as a teacher to that point. I was super proud. It’s a great feeling to know you have actually reached your kids as a teacher. One of the best feelings I can think of.
I then made all of them stand up and shout with me “I…AM…AWESOME!”
Maybe no one had told any of them they were awesome before, but it’s the little things that seem to make the biggest difference. The kids sat down, took their midterms – and performed astoundingly. 86% mastery of objectives!
We were so proud of them – our hard work, and their hard work – had paid off. Two students even got 100% on the exam.
Not only did they find my awesome, but they apparently found my class awesome too, and showed amazing progress on the midterm.
I mentioned earlier that my moods were strongly tied to my performance in the classroom – I was on cloud nine that day.
peace and love from the grand canyon state,
pb
On the Name
So one of the facts about myself that I am super proud of is that I have traveled a ton; so much so, in fact, that I had extra pages added to my passport.
On these extra pages are inspirational phrases from American history. One is "Go west, young man, and grow with the country", attributed to Horace Greeley.
Since that happens to be exactly what I'm doing - going west and "growing" personally and professionally - I could not have picked a more perfect title to this blog.
Idle curiosity - and a need to remember the exact quotation - led me to the Wikipedia page for the saying.
Turns out, it's quite controversial. Greeley favored Western Expansion relating to Manifest Destiny, and that quotation apparently appeared in an 1865 editorial the famous journalist wrote advocating for the concept.
However, Greeley never claimed to have coined the famous phrase, and it's original author remains unknown, an enigma lost in the mists of history.
No matter who first said it or wrote it, the sentiment remains the same.
peace and love from the grand canyon state,
pb
On these extra pages are inspirational phrases from American history. One is "Go west, young man, and grow with the country", attributed to Horace Greeley.
Since that happens to be exactly what I'm doing - going west and "growing" personally and professionally - I could not have picked a more perfect title to this blog.
Idle curiosity - and a need to remember the exact quotation - led me to the Wikipedia page for the saying.
Turns out, it's quite controversial. Greeley favored Western Expansion relating to Manifest Destiny, and that quotation apparently appeared in an 1865 editorial the famous journalist wrote advocating for the concept.
However, Greeley never claimed to have coined the famous phrase, and it's original author remains unknown, an enigma lost in the mists of history.
No matter who first said it or wrote it, the sentiment remains the same.
peace and love from the grand canyon state,
pb
Monday, July 26, 2010
Behind
When I was abroad and gallivanting all over the world during my junior year, I started journaling, and I really liked it. Problem was, I always had way too much to write about and not enough time, or maybe motivation, or hand strength what with the constant writing in small notebooks, to keep it up. I would always fall days behind and end up journaling about events that happened two months earlier. Yes, I do have a pretty good memory for those things, but it became too much, and I’m not going to follow that route with this blog.
But it seems like may be; I can never seem to find the time to blog, and when I do, I end up writing like thirteen entries at a time, and nothing is in chronological order, and I get confused, and sometimes I think y’all might, too.
So yes, I am a little behind in my blogging; my to-do list has “Blog” right on it, and there are 23 entries waiting in the wings for me to find some time to write.
Apologies, apologies, apologies for that. Hopefully I can find some sort of routine where I can actually update this on time, and sequentially, so you’ll have an idea of what it’s like to be in the trenches fighting the evil armies of the achievement gap pretty soon after I fight each battle, not weeks afterwards.
That’s my new Big Goal.
peace and love from seat 19E on us airways flight 480,
pb
But it seems like may be; I can never seem to find the time to blog, and when I do, I end up writing like thirteen entries at a time, and nothing is in chronological order, and I get confused, and sometimes I think y’all might, too.
So yes, I am a little behind in my blogging; my to-do list has “Blog” right on it, and there are 23 entries waiting in the wings for me to find some time to write.
Apologies, apologies, apologies for that. Hopefully I can find some sort of routine where I can actually update this on time, and sequentially, so you’ll have an idea of what it’s like to be in the trenches fighting the evil armies of the achievement gap pretty soon after I fight each battle, not weeks afterwards.
That’s my new Big Goal.
peace and love from seat 19E on us airways flight 480,
pb
It's Over
I know I haven’t really gotten to write too much about Intenstitute, at least the ins and outs of it, and hopefully some of that will come as I have time to continuously unwind from that pressure cooker. But now that FINALLY those five weeks are over, I can look back, and hopefully glean (Erin, that word’s for you) a few takeaways from the experience.
I went into Institute thinking it would be the toughest and most challenging thing I had ever done. Looking back on the experience a week after it ended, I can safely say that I think it was.
It wasn’t just the long hours, or the lack of sleep, or the intensity of it all; it was the fact that there was a lot actually riding on what I was doing. I was just going through training sessions and hours in the classroom for my own benefit; there were students who depended on me, for whom my failure was not an option at all, whose successes were directly linked to my successes or missteps as a teacher. I needed to succeed not just for myself, but for those students for whom success at the Agua Fria Ninth Grade Summer Success Program would mean, in the short-term, in some cases, promotion to high school, but hopefully in the long-term, and maybe this is just me reverting to John Lennon-esque “dreaming”, but better preparation for high school and, hopefully, beyond. Some of these kids had never thought about going to college before; some of them even considered dropping out literally as soon as they could. If I could invest and inspire at least a few of them to consider changing life paths, I think I did well.
So, on the balance, how did I do in the classroom? TFA is all about Big Goals (with appropriate, reverent capitalization); the Big Goal for everyone at Institute was that, in each of our classrooms, (Freudian note: I manage to type “classtooms” most of the time I try to write “classrooms”; interpret that how you will, but I think I just have clumsy fingers) each of our students would meet his or her Big Goal. Now, I know this is getting somewhat confusing, what with all the Big Goals running around, so I’ll attempt to explain: Each of our students had a Big Goal based on our pre-test; their Big Goals were based upon the results of the top quartile of last year’s Institute. Say, for example, you scored 50% mastery of objectives on the pre-test; your Big Goal for the post-test would be around a 76% mastery of objectives, or thereabouts. These are ambitious goals, all based upon what the cream of the crop of last year’s Corps was able to achieve with their students. So MY Big Goal was that ALL of my students would reach THEIR Big Goals. Make sense?
Sorry to get bogged down in the weeds of Big Goals, but that’s a lot of what TFA is all about. Throughout their lives, in many cases no one has believed that many of these kids could achieve to high levels, and we were there to break that mold, to set high standards, and to reach for them. So how did I do, going back to my original question? Well…alright. 4 of our 11 students met their Big Goals; not a great mark, but pretty much average for the Ninth Grade Summer Success Program. Overall, the class as a whole improved 11 points, from a 61% to a 72%, on the post-test; I think, for four weeks of teaching by novices, that’s awesome. On the pre-test, only 3 of 17 objectives were mastered by 80% or more of students; on the post-test, 9 of 17 objectives were mastered by more than 80% of the class, with 4 objectives reaching mastery by 100% of the students. Even though 100% of our kids didn’t meet 100% of their individual Big Goals, I think we did pretty damn well, considering.
Considering what? Well, although I certainly cared strongly about each of my students’ progress and achievement, and although I certainly know that all of them can achieve at a high level, I did not have the easiest class. It’s not like I had a ton of management problems; in fact, we had hardly any major management problems in J4. They were the SuperStars they were meant to be in that regard. But 6 – out of 11 – of my students were either students with special needs or English Language Learners. That’s an unheard-of level in a regular classroom, and that created an interesting dynamic in J4 – with no leading personalities, those facets of the class became dominant, and participation and processing were major struggles for us. Because there was no dominant personality to move the group, despite my best investment efforts, we had a very strange class dynamic, and the slower-processing typical of students with special needs and English Language Learners dominated the class instead.
My supervisors and mentors commented “Man, Peter, you’re not kidding – that’s a strange class.” When we took our “silly picture” at the end of the summer, only I did anything silly, and all I did was stick my tongue out. Everyone else is just standing there, awkwardly.
God I miss them.
I once made a joke, “Institute has made me a great dentist; I’m awesome at pulling teeth.” It was awkward, yes, and the timing was poor, but that kind of encapsulates how participation in my class was – getting them to talk was like pulling teeth from a toothless person. But I tried hard, I really did, and my energy level, in my opinion, was outstanding (that’s not, actually, just my opinion: one of my mentors commented that “Well, based on what I’ve seen you do, they SHOULD be participating and engaged – it’s an interesting dynamic”…yes, yes it was. And, most importantly, the kids noticed my energy too. On the last school meeting, we had a heart-wrenching slideshow of what our kids said about us. When prompted, my kids said their favorite thing about me was that I had a lot of energy – so I’m not really just making this up).
So yes, all things considered, I think I was able to do great things with my class.
Maybe the support was a little lacking at Institute for dealing with anomalous classes like mine, but that goes back to an important point: Institute has two major purposes, one of which, student achievement, I’ve just described in (hopefully not too boring) detail. The other is our own professional development; how can we Corps Members lead to student achievement if we don’t know at all what we’re doing?
In this regard, our individual Big Goals were to move from Novice to Beginning Proficiency on the Teaching as Leadership rubric – TFA’s teaching Bible. There are about forty-odd different facets of the TAL rubric (that’s another TFAcronym for ya); I did, indeed, move, with the incredibly support of all of the awesome mentors out here, to Beginning Proficiency in all aspects, and Advanced Proficiency in some.
What took the most work? Checking for understanding, which is the process of questioning during a lesson, is difficult. You have to ask the right questions, to the right students, and respond in the right ways to make sure your class is either on track, or, as frequently happens, is way off track and needs some more practice or guidance. It’s tough and there’s definitely an art to it. It’s difficult to know how to respond a way-off answer this a response that’s not “Umm, well that’s an interesting answer, Jimmy, but, yeah…you’re wrong” – you’ve got to finesse it to make sure Jimmy SEEMS right and then coach and correct him with guiding questions to get back on the right path…oh, it’s tough.
What were my standout strengths? I seem to have acquired a great classroom presence – teacher voice, teacher stare, the movement, the energy level, everything – and that, I think, is how a degree in international business can help a new teacher. Presentations, more presentations, and then some more presentations back at Carolina certainly helped in that regard.
So yes, I definitely developed professionally, and yes, my students definitely achieved. TFA achieved those two of its own Big Goals. BUT, there is another, important goal, one I discussed earlier.
You need to make friends at Institute too; in fact, it would be impossible to make it through this experience without a valuable and reliable support system. So the social aspect of Institute is huge, too, and I definitely have carved a niche for myself and made a ton of friends here, too.
So, that was Intenstitute, a week after it ended. Was it tough? Yes. Was it worth it? Hell yes, and I think my kids would agree. Going back to my original thoughts, was it the most challenging thing I had ever done? Yes. But I imagined it to be tougher – absolutely no sleep, no time for socialization, no chances to eat or sleep or work out or breathe. It came close, but I think I handled it well, established a routine that worked for me, and forged out support systems to get through it all.
It was definitely the most fun I would never like to repeat again.
peace and love from 30,000 feet above what i think is the lone star state,
pb
PS: Wow, this turned into a far longer post than expected. I guess that’s what five weeks of pent-up thoughts and reflections and data and exhaustion and Intenstitute will do to somebody.
And apologies for all of the data in this post; TFA is all about data, and it’s helpful to use data to reflect. Sorry if I bored y’all, but remember, this blog is about me doing some self-reflection, too!
I went into Institute thinking it would be the toughest and most challenging thing I had ever done. Looking back on the experience a week after it ended, I can safely say that I think it was.
It wasn’t just the long hours, or the lack of sleep, or the intensity of it all; it was the fact that there was a lot actually riding on what I was doing. I was just going through training sessions and hours in the classroom for my own benefit; there were students who depended on me, for whom my failure was not an option at all, whose successes were directly linked to my successes or missteps as a teacher. I needed to succeed not just for myself, but for those students for whom success at the Agua Fria Ninth Grade Summer Success Program would mean, in the short-term, in some cases, promotion to high school, but hopefully in the long-term, and maybe this is just me reverting to John Lennon-esque “dreaming”, but better preparation for high school and, hopefully, beyond. Some of these kids had never thought about going to college before; some of them even considered dropping out literally as soon as they could. If I could invest and inspire at least a few of them to consider changing life paths, I think I did well.
So, on the balance, how did I do in the classroom? TFA is all about Big Goals (with appropriate, reverent capitalization); the Big Goal for everyone at Institute was that, in each of our classrooms, (Freudian note: I manage to type “classtooms” most of the time I try to write “classrooms”; interpret that how you will, but I think I just have clumsy fingers) each of our students would meet his or her Big Goal. Now, I know this is getting somewhat confusing, what with all the Big Goals running around, so I’ll attempt to explain: Each of our students had a Big Goal based on our pre-test; their Big Goals were based upon the results of the top quartile of last year’s Institute. Say, for example, you scored 50% mastery of objectives on the pre-test; your Big Goal for the post-test would be around a 76% mastery of objectives, or thereabouts. These are ambitious goals, all based upon what the cream of the crop of last year’s Corps was able to achieve with their students. So MY Big Goal was that ALL of my students would reach THEIR Big Goals. Make sense?
Sorry to get bogged down in the weeds of Big Goals, but that’s a lot of what TFA is all about. Throughout their lives, in many cases no one has believed that many of these kids could achieve to high levels, and we were there to break that mold, to set high standards, and to reach for them. So how did I do, going back to my original question? Well…alright. 4 of our 11 students met their Big Goals; not a great mark, but pretty much average for the Ninth Grade Summer Success Program. Overall, the class as a whole improved 11 points, from a 61% to a 72%, on the post-test; I think, for four weeks of teaching by novices, that’s awesome. On the pre-test, only 3 of 17 objectives were mastered by 80% or more of students; on the post-test, 9 of 17 objectives were mastered by more than 80% of the class, with 4 objectives reaching mastery by 100% of the students. Even though 100% of our kids didn’t meet 100% of their individual Big Goals, I think we did pretty damn well, considering.
Considering what? Well, although I certainly cared strongly about each of my students’ progress and achievement, and although I certainly know that all of them can achieve at a high level, I did not have the easiest class. It’s not like I had a ton of management problems; in fact, we had hardly any major management problems in J4. They were the SuperStars they were meant to be in that regard. But 6 – out of 11 – of my students were either students with special needs or English Language Learners. That’s an unheard-of level in a regular classroom, and that created an interesting dynamic in J4 – with no leading personalities, those facets of the class became dominant, and participation and processing were major struggles for us. Because there was no dominant personality to move the group, despite my best investment efforts, we had a very strange class dynamic, and the slower-processing typical of students with special needs and English Language Learners dominated the class instead.
My supervisors and mentors commented “Man, Peter, you’re not kidding – that’s a strange class.” When we took our “silly picture” at the end of the summer, only I did anything silly, and all I did was stick my tongue out. Everyone else is just standing there, awkwardly.
God I miss them.
I once made a joke, “Institute has made me a great dentist; I’m awesome at pulling teeth.” It was awkward, yes, and the timing was poor, but that kind of encapsulates how participation in my class was – getting them to talk was like pulling teeth from a toothless person. But I tried hard, I really did, and my energy level, in my opinion, was outstanding (that’s not, actually, just my opinion: one of my mentors commented that “Well, based on what I’ve seen you do, they SHOULD be participating and engaged – it’s an interesting dynamic”…yes, yes it was. And, most importantly, the kids noticed my energy too. On the last school meeting, we had a heart-wrenching slideshow of what our kids said about us. When prompted, my kids said their favorite thing about me was that I had a lot of energy – so I’m not really just making this up).
So yes, all things considered, I think I was able to do great things with my class.
Maybe the support was a little lacking at Institute for dealing with anomalous classes like mine, but that goes back to an important point: Institute has two major purposes, one of which, student achievement, I’ve just described in (hopefully not too boring) detail. The other is our own professional development; how can we Corps Members lead to student achievement if we don’t know at all what we’re doing?
In this regard, our individual Big Goals were to move from Novice to Beginning Proficiency on the Teaching as Leadership rubric – TFA’s teaching Bible. There are about forty-odd different facets of the TAL rubric (that’s another TFAcronym for ya); I did, indeed, move, with the incredibly support of all of the awesome mentors out here, to Beginning Proficiency in all aspects, and Advanced Proficiency in some.
What took the most work? Checking for understanding, which is the process of questioning during a lesson, is difficult. You have to ask the right questions, to the right students, and respond in the right ways to make sure your class is either on track, or, as frequently happens, is way off track and needs some more practice or guidance. It’s tough and there’s definitely an art to it. It’s difficult to know how to respond a way-off answer this a response that’s not “Umm, well that’s an interesting answer, Jimmy, but, yeah…you’re wrong” – you’ve got to finesse it to make sure Jimmy SEEMS right and then coach and correct him with guiding questions to get back on the right path…oh, it’s tough.
What were my standout strengths? I seem to have acquired a great classroom presence – teacher voice, teacher stare, the movement, the energy level, everything – and that, I think, is how a degree in international business can help a new teacher. Presentations, more presentations, and then some more presentations back at Carolina certainly helped in that regard.
So yes, I definitely developed professionally, and yes, my students definitely achieved. TFA achieved those two of its own Big Goals. BUT, there is another, important goal, one I discussed earlier.
You need to make friends at Institute too; in fact, it would be impossible to make it through this experience without a valuable and reliable support system. So the social aspect of Institute is huge, too, and I definitely have carved a niche for myself and made a ton of friends here, too.
So, that was Intenstitute, a week after it ended. Was it tough? Yes. Was it worth it? Hell yes, and I think my kids would agree. Going back to my original thoughts, was it the most challenging thing I had ever done? Yes. But I imagined it to be tougher – absolutely no sleep, no time for socialization, no chances to eat or sleep or work out or breathe. It came close, but I think I handled it well, established a routine that worked for me, and forged out support systems to get through it all.
It was definitely the most fun I would never like to repeat again.
peace and love from 30,000 feet above what i think is the lone star state,
pb
PS: Wow, this turned into a far longer post than expected. I guess that’s what five weeks of pent-up thoughts and reflections and data and exhaustion and Intenstitute will do to somebody.
And apologies for all of the data in this post; TFA is all about data, and it’s helpful to use data to reflect. Sorry if I bored y’all, but remember, this blog is about me doing some self-reflection, too!
Thursday, July 22, 2010
174 Awesomes
No one seems to really know hoe many of us there are, but the number of TFA Phoenix 2010 Corps Members started around 177, and as far as anyone can tell, is now around 174.
174! 174 of us made the initial cut. 174 of us survived Intenstitute. That's pretty impressive.
Now, I really liked the Law & Public Policy Program at Towson High and the GLOBE Program at Carolina because those programs made a large institution small and were composed of like-minded passionate and talented individuals with the same goals and similar, awesome personalities.
And, for the most part, that's what the 2010 Phoenix TFA Corps is. 174 passionate, talented, and awesome people who picked up and moved to the desert to try and make a difference.
Not only is everyone super-smart and talented, but everyone was a complete all-star in college. But no matter what everyone's background may be, and the backgrounds here are VERY diverse, everyone is truly united under the TFA banner. We've all drunk the Kool-Aid, and call me corny, but it really is inspiring to truly be part of a movement of such amazing and dedicated and accomplished people trying to solve this massive problem of educational inequity. (Yeah, just gave y'all some major props)
And everyone is super fun. Be it road trips to Vegas or nights out on Mill, we always have a good time. Some of my best nights out are when all of us are out together, raging. Too much fun.
You've got all kinds here - but there are a TON of Midwesterners running around. I think I've met four Midwesterners in my entire life, maybe (you know who you are), and now they totally dominate the TFA 2010 Corps. I've gotten REALLY used to Midwestern accents.
Yeah, you've actually got all kinds here - remember the scene in Mean Girls when Lindsay Lohan (topical = just arrested) arrives at North Shore and Janice draws a map of the cafeteria, with all of the different cliques all mapped out? It's not that the Corps is a segregated bunch, but all of the cliques definitely exist. There's a large contingent of frat guys, your sorority girls, athletes, artsy folks, the people you never ever see and don't really know what to do, and then another group, that doesn't so much exist in a fictional high school: old people.
In the education world, their called "nontrads", I think: nontraditional teachers. We have a smattering of old people. Super passionate like the rest of us, yes, but certainly interesting to see in a dorm setting. The level of technology literacy definitely isn't there, that's for sure.
You know when you move someplace new, or when you go to a new school, you're always worried about whether or not you'll make any friends, and you picture yourself hating everything and sitting alone all the time? Well, that's not a concern here - it's great to be among such amazing company, and I'm definitely looking forward to the next two years with all these cool new friends.
peace and love from a quick mini-vacation back home to the old line state,
pb
174! 174 of us made the initial cut. 174 of us survived Intenstitute. That's pretty impressive.
Now, I really liked the Law & Public Policy Program at Towson High and the GLOBE Program at Carolina because those programs made a large institution small and were composed of like-minded passionate and talented individuals with the same goals and similar, awesome personalities.
And, for the most part, that's what the 2010 Phoenix TFA Corps is. 174 passionate, talented, and awesome people who picked up and moved to the desert to try and make a difference.
Not only is everyone super-smart and talented, but everyone was a complete all-star in college. But no matter what everyone's background may be, and the backgrounds here are VERY diverse, everyone is truly united under the TFA banner. We've all drunk the Kool-Aid, and call me corny, but it really is inspiring to truly be part of a movement of such amazing and dedicated and accomplished people trying to solve this massive problem of educational inequity. (Yeah, just gave y'all some major props)
And everyone is super fun. Be it road trips to Vegas or nights out on Mill, we always have a good time. Some of my best nights out are when all of us are out together, raging. Too much fun.
You've got all kinds here - but there are a TON of Midwesterners running around. I think I've met four Midwesterners in my entire life, maybe (you know who you are), and now they totally dominate the TFA 2010 Corps. I've gotten REALLY used to Midwestern accents.
Yeah, you've actually got all kinds here - remember the scene in Mean Girls when Lindsay Lohan (topical = just arrested) arrives at North Shore and Janice draws a map of the cafeteria, with all of the different cliques all mapped out? It's not that the Corps is a segregated bunch, but all of the cliques definitely exist. There's a large contingent of frat guys, your sorority girls, athletes, artsy folks, the people you never ever see and don't really know what to do, and then another group, that doesn't so much exist in a fictional high school: old people.
In the education world, their called "nontrads", I think: nontraditional teachers. We have a smattering of old people. Super passionate like the rest of us, yes, but certainly interesting to see in a dorm setting. The level of technology literacy definitely isn't there, that's for sure.
You know when you move someplace new, or when you go to a new school, you're always worried about whether or not you'll make any friends, and you picture yourself hating everything and sitting alone all the time? Well, that's not a concern here - it's great to be among such amazing company, and I'm definitely looking forward to the next two years with all these cool new friends.
peace and love from a quick mini-vacation back home to the old line state,
pb
Thursday, July 15, 2010
Sin City
A lot of my entries recently have been some heavy teaching stuff; let’s move on to some lighter topics.
And nothing is a lighter topic than Vegas, a city of such total and complete debauchery that naturally I cannot wait until I go back.
The thing about Vegas that one of my friends pointed out to me the other day was that everyone goes there to celebrate something – whether it’s blowing their most recent paycheck at the Roulette wheel or celebrating an engagement (which could easily become celebrating a marriage in that city’s innumerable wedding chapels) – so you know they’re gonna do it big.
Now I’m not a Vegas expert, but I have been to Sin City twice in the past month, and I certainly plan on becoming an expert sometime soon – why not? It’s a quick 5-and-a-half hour drive through the Mojave and over Lake Mead, and you’re there. (Out West, distance is relative – I would never say Charlotte and Raleigh are “close”, because they are two-and-a-half hours apart; but I do consider Tucson and Phoenix “close”, and they are the same distance away. So Vegas is “close enough” to Phoenix in that sense)
The Strip is awesome – open containers are totally fine; in fact, I think anything would be totally fine. It’s tough to walk though – even though the Venetian and Bellagio are like 2 blocks apart, those are llllooooonnnnngggg blocks to walk, especially if you’re all decked out and ready to hit the clubs (which of course you are, because you’re all my friends) There are pools, palaces, zoos, aquariums, slot parlors, designer shopping malls, a roller coaster, replicas of the CN Tower, Manhattan skyline, Camelot, Patong Beach, and the Eiffel Tower all on one simple street – it’s amazing they’ve created this oasis (or is it a mirage?) of glamour in the Nevada desert.
The casinos range from the happily kitsch Excalibur, where I stayed on my roadtrip, to the grand and palatial Bellagio and Caesar’s Palace. It all depends on what you’re looking for. And I love how each one has a schtick – if you want France, go to Paris. If you want China, head to the Imperial Palace. If you’re a poor teacher from Phoenix, go to the Travelodge (which I call the TroLo) – most terrifying hotel I have ever been to, and I include all Asian hostels in that statement.
So Vegas does indeed have something for everyone – shows and entertainment if you’re looking for a calm night; the world’s best clubs and bars if you’re not. Some of the best restaurants are in Vegas (I’m partial to San Marco’s at the Venetian and Le Burger Bistro at Paris); so are some of the world’s longest and trashiest buffets.
Vegas is party and glamour central if you’re young or a high-roller looking for a good time; it’s damned depressing if you’re not. Looking at old ladies spending all of their fixed incomes by listlessly lifting levers on slot machines in the midst of all the hullaballoo is sad as hell. And slots aren’t even fun.
It’s a city with a wild streak and a seedy underbelly –on the floor at one of the megacasinos, you wouldn’t be at all surprised to see George Clooney and the Ocean’s 11 crew enter one entrance as a CSI: crew leaves another.
It’s hyper, it’s neon, it’s silicone, it’s sunburned, it’s sandy, it’s gray, it’s throbbing, it’s alive – needless to say I love it.
Can’t wait to go back soon – next time to visit Alina!
peace and love from the grand canyon state,
pb
And nothing is a lighter topic than Vegas, a city of such total and complete debauchery that naturally I cannot wait until I go back.
The thing about Vegas that one of my friends pointed out to me the other day was that everyone goes there to celebrate something – whether it’s blowing their most recent paycheck at the Roulette wheel or celebrating an engagement (which could easily become celebrating a marriage in that city’s innumerable wedding chapels) – so you know they’re gonna do it big.
Now I’m not a Vegas expert, but I have been to Sin City twice in the past month, and I certainly plan on becoming an expert sometime soon – why not? It’s a quick 5-and-a-half hour drive through the Mojave and over Lake Mead, and you’re there. (Out West, distance is relative – I would never say Charlotte and Raleigh are “close”, because they are two-and-a-half hours apart; but I do consider Tucson and Phoenix “close”, and they are the same distance away. So Vegas is “close enough” to Phoenix in that sense)
The Strip is awesome – open containers are totally fine; in fact, I think anything would be totally fine. It’s tough to walk though – even though the Venetian and Bellagio are like 2 blocks apart, those are llllooooonnnnngggg blocks to walk, especially if you’re all decked out and ready to hit the clubs (which of course you are, because you’re all my friends) There are pools, palaces, zoos, aquariums, slot parlors, designer shopping malls, a roller coaster, replicas of the CN Tower, Manhattan skyline, Camelot, Patong Beach, and the Eiffel Tower all on one simple street – it’s amazing they’ve created this oasis (or is it a mirage?) of glamour in the Nevada desert.
The casinos range from the happily kitsch Excalibur, where I stayed on my roadtrip, to the grand and palatial Bellagio and Caesar’s Palace. It all depends on what you’re looking for. And I love how each one has a schtick – if you want France, go to Paris. If you want China, head to the Imperial Palace. If you’re a poor teacher from Phoenix, go to the Travelodge (which I call the TroLo) – most terrifying hotel I have ever been to, and I include all Asian hostels in that statement.
So Vegas does indeed have something for everyone – shows and entertainment if you’re looking for a calm night; the world’s best clubs and bars if you’re not. Some of the best restaurants are in Vegas (I’m partial to San Marco’s at the Venetian and Le Burger Bistro at Paris); so are some of the world’s longest and trashiest buffets.
Vegas is party and glamour central if you’re young or a high-roller looking for a good time; it’s damned depressing if you’re not. Looking at old ladies spending all of their fixed incomes by listlessly lifting levers on slot machines in the midst of all the hullaballoo is sad as hell. And slots aren’t even fun.
It’s a city with a wild streak and a seedy underbelly –on the floor at one of the megacasinos, you wouldn’t be at all surprised to see George Clooney and the Ocean’s 11 crew enter one entrance as a CSI: crew leaves another.
It’s hyper, it’s neon, it’s silicone, it’s sunburned, it’s sandy, it’s gray, it’s throbbing, it’s alive – needless to say I love it.
Can’t wait to go back soon – next time to visit Alina!
peace and love from the grand canyon state,
pb
Moody Me
I’ve always been one to wear my moods on my sleeve, no matter what that mood may be – and this is especially true after a few drinks. But it’s crazy just how my moods can change based on what happens in class on a given day.
If a struggling student masters a key point on that day’s assessment, I can be ecstatic, so bubbly that my sobriety is called into question. If the quietest kid in the class asks a great and insightful question or volunteers to read that day’s passage, I get positively giddy. My kids’ successes are my successes, and it shows.
But unfortunately, the opposite is true to. If I’m having a rough day, and perhaps the kids don’t do as well on the assessment or maybe I have to give out a ton of consequences, it shows. I know I can’t take it personally; I know that being a teacher is just one aspect of my personality, and everyone has ups and downs, but this is definitely one aspect of the job on which I certainly struggle.
peace and love from the grand canyon state,
pb
If a struggling student masters a key point on that day’s assessment, I can be ecstatic, so bubbly that my sobriety is called into question. If the quietest kid in the class asks a great and insightful question or volunteers to read that day’s passage, I get positively giddy. My kids’ successes are my successes, and it shows.
But unfortunately, the opposite is true to. If I’m having a rough day, and perhaps the kids don’t do as well on the assessment or maybe I have to give out a ton of consequences, it shows. I know I can’t take it personally; I know that being a teacher is just one aspect of my personality, and everyone has ups and downs, but this is definitely one aspect of the job on which I certainly struggle.
peace and love from the grand canyon state,
pb
Can’t Read My, Can’t Read My, No You Can’t Read My Teacher Face
One of the major perks about being a teacher that I’ve definitely mentioned in a previous post is the fact that there are 12 people in J4 at Agua Fria High School who have to do exactly what I tell them to, or there are major consequences. It’s instant gratification for the thousands of dollars my parents spent to get me a business degree; I’m already in a management position right off the bat. The only caveat is that the people I manage are…14 years old.
One of the major principles of classroom management is to keep a small problem a small problem. That is to say, don’t let the minor misbehaviors become major ones. If you let them get out their seats without asking once to sharpen a pencil, God knows you’ll have them running around the classroom in no time. If you let them make snarky side comments, God knows no one will ever pay attention to you ever again. Sweat the small stuff – make it stay small stuff.
This is the exact opposite of how I was while in school. My philosophy, pretty much about life in general, is that it is easier to ask forgiveness than permission. It’s totally true. So I did pretty much whatever I wanted in school and got away with murder because teachers liked me and I performed well so if I talked to my neighbors or left school midday to go get Taco Bell, so what, he’ll be back and ace the test.
I now hate that mentality, and endeavor to be the No-Nonsense Nurturer, a teacher that gets the behavior and investment messages across while keeping a friendly touch in the classroom.
The way we manage behavior at the Phoenix Institute is called the Behavior Management Cycle. It is propagated by an elderly education guru by the name of Lee Canter. We had to watch a million videos of Mr. Canter – he’s an awful public speaker and definitely does the “T-Rex” presenting pitfall (keeping his elbows at his side while vigorously moving his forearms) while presenting. But his methods are sounds, and I’ve found them incredibly helpful in my practice.
It works like this: first, give incredibly explicit directions. They may be in 9th grade, but kids have no idea what to do unless you explain it to them explicitly and clearly and model exactly how it should be done. I thought this was incredibly stupid at first (who doesn’t know how to work quietly and independently?) but it really is true – no one knows what to do unless someone teaches it to him or her, and that includes procedures and directions.
Next, focus on the positive and do something called Behavior Narration – that means, within two to three seconds of giving out an expectation or directions, you narrate what the kids are doing. An example would be that if you explicitly direct kids to get out of their desks and do a headstand against the back wall of the classroom for six minutes, three seconds after you give that direction you would say things like “Melissa is getting out of her seat and is going to do a headstand; Javier is at the back wall ready to do a headstand; Junior has started his headstand and will keep doing this for six minutes” etc.
It sounds corny and hilarious and it is. My CMA (that’s my mentor at Institute) thinks I’m good at it and it’s effective because I think it’s so funny. So I behavior narrate my ass off and have the best time, and here’s the crazy thing: it works! If one student is misbehaving (and trust me, you always have a kid who commits those irksome minor misbehaviors nonstop), behavior narrate all of the positive things the kids around him or her are doing, and eventually he’ll get the social cue and start doing it, too. Peer pressure works wonders.
But what if he or she doesn’t get it the first time around? Well, the third step of the Behavior Management Cycle is my least favorite: giving consequences. No one likes to be a “bad cop”; we all want our kids or coworkers or colleagues or employees to like us. But sometimes, you need to let them know they are out of line and need to step up their game, behavior-wise. An example:
“Stewie [I would laugh so hard if I ever teach a kid named Stewie], the expectation is that you are doing a headstand at the back wall of the classroom for six minutes. You have chosen to not follow the expectation, and this is your first warning, and it has been noted. Please get to the back wall and do a headstand for six minutes with the rest of the class.” (Of course I would do this in my best teacher voice – calm, confident, assertive, and leaving no doubt as to who is in charge of this classroom).
Giving consequences sucks; you never want to take away students’ privileges. In the case of Agua Fria J4, that would be chances to win a bathroom pass which we call StarBucks! (We took our SuperStars theme to the logical extreme – and beyond). However, sometimes you need to just remind them what the expectation is, and that they need to be following it. It totally makes class run that much smoother and decreases the chances that the misbehavior will happen again.
So that’s the formal way; I have, and I think all teachers do have, informal ways of keeping the kids in line. If the back right corner is chatting, go stand in the back right corner and conduct the lesson from there. Move around seats to ensure an optimal seating chart that minimizes misbehaviors. Put your hand on a student’s desk if he or she isn’t working – chances are he or she will snatch up that pencil and start writing so fast you won’t even get to behavior narration (which would be sad – I love to behavior narrate).
The best, however, and my favorite, is the Teacher Stare (hence the Gaga allusion at the title of this post). It’s cold, it’s piercing, it’s effective – and I’ve mastered it. If two kids are talking, just cock your head in their direction, purse your lips, fold your arms, and squint your eyes ever so slightly – their heads will be down and pencils will be moving so fast you have no idea. It’s actually an excellent power trip.
So that’s how I keep my class in line and avoid my worst nightmare – a class so out-of-control that they run circles around me and tie me to my chair with duct tape and pummel erasers at my forehead.
And that’s also how I put my management degree to good use.
peace and love from the grand canyon state,
pb
One of the major principles of classroom management is to keep a small problem a small problem. That is to say, don’t let the minor misbehaviors become major ones. If you let them get out their seats without asking once to sharpen a pencil, God knows you’ll have them running around the classroom in no time. If you let them make snarky side comments, God knows no one will ever pay attention to you ever again. Sweat the small stuff – make it stay small stuff.
This is the exact opposite of how I was while in school. My philosophy, pretty much about life in general, is that it is easier to ask forgiveness than permission. It’s totally true. So I did pretty much whatever I wanted in school and got away with murder because teachers liked me and I performed well so if I talked to my neighbors or left school midday to go get Taco Bell, so what, he’ll be back and ace the test.
I now hate that mentality, and endeavor to be the No-Nonsense Nurturer, a teacher that gets the behavior and investment messages across while keeping a friendly touch in the classroom.
The way we manage behavior at the Phoenix Institute is called the Behavior Management Cycle. It is propagated by an elderly education guru by the name of Lee Canter. We had to watch a million videos of Mr. Canter – he’s an awful public speaker and definitely does the “T-Rex” presenting pitfall (keeping his elbows at his side while vigorously moving his forearms) while presenting. But his methods are sounds, and I’ve found them incredibly helpful in my practice.
It works like this: first, give incredibly explicit directions. They may be in 9th grade, but kids have no idea what to do unless you explain it to them explicitly and clearly and model exactly how it should be done. I thought this was incredibly stupid at first (who doesn’t know how to work quietly and independently?) but it really is true – no one knows what to do unless someone teaches it to him or her, and that includes procedures and directions.
Next, focus on the positive and do something called Behavior Narration – that means, within two to three seconds of giving out an expectation or directions, you narrate what the kids are doing. An example would be that if you explicitly direct kids to get out of their desks and do a headstand against the back wall of the classroom for six minutes, three seconds after you give that direction you would say things like “Melissa is getting out of her seat and is going to do a headstand; Javier is at the back wall ready to do a headstand; Junior has started his headstand and will keep doing this for six minutes” etc.
It sounds corny and hilarious and it is. My CMA (that’s my mentor at Institute) thinks I’m good at it and it’s effective because I think it’s so funny. So I behavior narrate my ass off and have the best time, and here’s the crazy thing: it works! If one student is misbehaving (and trust me, you always have a kid who commits those irksome minor misbehaviors nonstop), behavior narrate all of the positive things the kids around him or her are doing, and eventually he’ll get the social cue and start doing it, too. Peer pressure works wonders.
But what if he or she doesn’t get it the first time around? Well, the third step of the Behavior Management Cycle is my least favorite: giving consequences. No one likes to be a “bad cop”; we all want our kids or coworkers or colleagues or employees to like us. But sometimes, you need to let them know they are out of line and need to step up their game, behavior-wise. An example:
“Stewie [I would laugh so hard if I ever teach a kid named Stewie], the expectation is that you are doing a headstand at the back wall of the classroom for six minutes. You have chosen to not follow the expectation, and this is your first warning, and it has been noted. Please get to the back wall and do a headstand for six minutes with the rest of the class.” (Of course I would do this in my best teacher voice – calm, confident, assertive, and leaving no doubt as to who is in charge of this classroom).
Giving consequences sucks; you never want to take away students’ privileges. In the case of Agua Fria J4, that would be chances to win a bathroom pass which we call StarBucks! (We took our SuperStars theme to the logical extreme – and beyond). However, sometimes you need to just remind them what the expectation is, and that they need to be following it. It totally makes class run that much smoother and decreases the chances that the misbehavior will happen again.
So that’s the formal way; I have, and I think all teachers do have, informal ways of keeping the kids in line. If the back right corner is chatting, go stand in the back right corner and conduct the lesson from there. Move around seats to ensure an optimal seating chart that minimizes misbehaviors. Put your hand on a student’s desk if he or she isn’t working – chances are he or she will snatch up that pencil and start writing so fast you won’t even get to behavior narration (which would be sad – I love to behavior narrate).
The best, however, and my favorite, is the Teacher Stare (hence the Gaga allusion at the title of this post). It’s cold, it’s piercing, it’s effective – and I’ve mastered it. If two kids are talking, just cock your head in their direction, purse your lips, fold your arms, and squint your eyes ever so slightly – their heads will be down and pencils will be moving so fast you have no idea. It’s actually an excellent power trip.
So that’s how I keep my class in line and avoid my worst nightmare – a class so out-of-control that they run circles around me and tie me to my chair with duct tape and pummel erasers at my forehead.
And that’s also how I put my management degree to good use.
peace and love from the grand canyon state,
pb
Monday, July 12, 2010
Investing and Paying Dividends, pt. 1
At Kenan-Flagler Business School at UNC, whenever people talked about investing, I tuned out because that has to do with finance I think and I just don't get finance and I was going to be a teacher anyway and coasting through all my classes, so I thought whatever, Professor Blocher, I don't care and I'm not going to listen to you.
At Agua Fria High School at the TFA Phoenix Institute, it means getting students, parents, and teachers involved and engaged in lessons to the point where they self-motivate. It's an intriguing concept, motivation in - what lights that internal drive in a student? How can you foster that? How can you make a kid WANT to learn - to move from the "I CAN do it" (which is tough enough for some kids to begin with) to the "I WANT to do it". The second one was how I was in school, and how most of y'all probably were too, so I never really had thought about it before.
But getting kids to want to learn is tough.
There are all kinds of strategies - class themes to pique students' interest (ours is SuperStars - more on that to come), continued communication about student progress, references to students' dreams, aspirations, and their "Big Goals", building informal relationships - all of these are ways to foster that "I WANT".
My favorite, however, is positive reinforcement. These kids need to know that they are indeed capable of succeeding, that it will take a lot of work, and they we, as TFA teachers, are here to guide, facilitate, and help them along the way. The best way, I have found, of doing this is to repeatedly, constantly, and consistently praise students for what they do well. Focus on the positive, not on the negative. In TFA terms, the "pluses" and not the "deltas".
If Joe is misbehaving, mention all of the positive behaviors you see from students around Joey, and he'll come around.
If Jared is struggling in his writing, make sure you make a big deal when he does well, and he'll come around.
If Junior is not participating, make sure you praise him when he does and thank him for volunteering, and he'll come around. You'll see his hand more than anyone else's, as a matter of fact, by the end of the week.
Tell your kids they're SuperStars. Chart their progress on a "StarChart" in the room to let them know how well they're doing. Give them constant and unsolicited praise - it works.
That's kind of the set-up to the Investment process - it's become a big deal in my daily routine at Institute. However, I'm not the only one Investing - TFA staff invests in us daily just as much as we invest in our students.
And more to come about this later; I'm exhausted and really need to go to bed.
good night from the grand canyon state,
pb
At Agua Fria High School at the TFA Phoenix Institute, it means getting students, parents, and teachers involved and engaged in lessons to the point where they self-motivate. It's an intriguing concept, motivation in - what lights that internal drive in a student? How can you foster that? How can you make a kid WANT to learn - to move from the "I CAN do it" (which is tough enough for some kids to begin with) to the "I WANT to do it". The second one was how I was in school, and how most of y'all probably were too, so I never really had thought about it before.
But getting kids to want to learn is tough.
There are all kinds of strategies - class themes to pique students' interest (ours is SuperStars - more on that to come), continued communication about student progress, references to students' dreams, aspirations, and their "Big Goals", building informal relationships - all of these are ways to foster that "I WANT".
My favorite, however, is positive reinforcement. These kids need to know that they are indeed capable of succeeding, that it will take a lot of work, and they we, as TFA teachers, are here to guide, facilitate, and help them along the way. The best way, I have found, of doing this is to repeatedly, constantly, and consistently praise students for what they do well. Focus on the positive, not on the negative. In TFA terms, the "pluses" and not the "deltas".
If Joe is misbehaving, mention all of the positive behaviors you see from students around Joey, and he'll come around.
If Jared is struggling in his writing, make sure you make a big deal when he does well, and he'll come around.
If Junior is not participating, make sure you praise him when he does and thank him for volunteering, and he'll come around. You'll see his hand more than anyone else's, as a matter of fact, by the end of the week.
Tell your kids they're SuperStars. Chart their progress on a "StarChart" in the room to let them know how well they're doing. Give them constant and unsolicited praise - it works.
That's kind of the set-up to the Investment process - it's become a big deal in my daily routine at Institute. However, I'm not the only one Investing - TFA staff invests in us daily just as much as we invest in our students.
And more to come about this later; I'm exhausted and really need to go to bed.
good night from the grand canyon state,
pb
The Parent Trap Remix
So a few weeks ago, I wrote about how nervous I was the first time I chatted with parents about their students' progress.
One student's Mom and I had a great chat about why her daughter needed to be in school and how education is very important. I left the conversation impressed about the parent's positive involvement in her student's education and expecting great things for the next week.
Well I certainly need to follow up on this one.
The next day, the student came to class and was quiet as ever. I made a point to do some more one-on-one instruction with her, especially on her writing skills, which, while technically correct in terms of conventions and content, were totally lacking in voice or fluency - it was as if a robot had answered the writing prompt. I thought we came to an understanding about why more advanced writing was important, and why attendance in school is important as well.
We gave her a progress report and sent her home for the afternoon expecting to see her tomorrow.
Well, we didn't see her the next day. So my Collaborative (aka Kristy, the other half of my Agua Fria personality) called Mom to see what was up, and tell her that if the student (I'm hiding all names to protect the innocent/guilty/students/don't wanna get sued) missed one more day of the program, she would not receive credit for it. On top of this, our records indicated that this particular student needed the class to be promoted to 9th Grade - in other words, this is a very high-stakes class for her.
The Mom went ballistic, saying the student didn't need to come to the class, she wasn't being challenged (this made me exceptionally mad - I certainly had challenged her the day before in regards to her writing skills), she was an Honor Roll student (no comment on this, but the travesty of low expectations is definitely one of the major causes of the achievement gap), and that she would have words with the Principal, the School Board, the Department of Education, the Governor, various lawyers, and God knows who else.
So Kristy and my CMA Nikki (basically my mentor at Agua Fria) ran down (as fast as they could - Nikki's pregnant) to the Principal's office, but Mom was already on the phone ranting to the Principal, with, yes, various lawyers on the line.
Whoa. Talk about involved parents.
Turns out the student didn't need the class for promotion and the mother read the form wrong. Since, in the East Valley, school systems are separated by Elementary and High School Districts, and the two don't talk to one another, no one had checked to see if this student needed the class or not for promotion. Bureaucracy steps in the way of student achievement once again.
So Mom withdrew the student and that was the end of that. It's so frustrating, though, to work so hard on something, think you have come to an understanding with a person, and then realize you're on totally opposite pages, in totally opposite universes. So I guess my first foray into the field of parent communication did not exactly go as well as it seemed at first; however, there are definitely lessons to be learned from this. In my interview for my permanent school placement site in the fall, my new Principal asked if I had ever experience difficulties with a parent, or if not, how I would respond or react in that situation.
Now I have something to tell him.
peace and love from the grand canyon state,
pb
One student's Mom and I had a great chat about why her daughter needed to be in school and how education is very important. I left the conversation impressed about the parent's positive involvement in her student's education and expecting great things for the next week.
Well I certainly need to follow up on this one.
The next day, the student came to class and was quiet as ever. I made a point to do some more one-on-one instruction with her, especially on her writing skills, which, while technically correct in terms of conventions and content, were totally lacking in voice or fluency - it was as if a robot had answered the writing prompt. I thought we came to an understanding about why more advanced writing was important, and why attendance in school is important as well.
We gave her a progress report and sent her home for the afternoon expecting to see her tomorrow.
Well, we didn't see her the next day. So my Collaborative (aka Kristy, the other half of my Agua Fria personality) called Mom to see what was up, and tell her that if the student (I'm hiding all names to protect the innocent/guilty/students/don't wanna get sued) missed one more day of the program, she would not receive credit for it. On top of this, our records indicated that this particular student needed the class to be promoted to 9th Grade - in other words, this is a very high-stakes class for her.
The Mom went ballistic, saying the student didn't need to come to the class, she wasn't being challenged (this made me exceptionally mad - I certainly had challenged her the day before in regards to her writing skills), she was an Honor Roll student (no comment on this, but the travesty of low expectations is definitely one of the major causes of the achievement gap), and that she would have words with the Principal, the School Board, the Department of Education, the Governor, various lawyers, and God knows who else.
So Kristy and my CMA Nikki (basically my mentor at Agua Fria) ran down (as fast as they could - Nikki's pregnant) to the Principal's office, but Mom was already on the phone ranting to the Principal, with, yes, various lawyers on the line.
Whoa. Talk about involved parents.
Turns out the student didn't need the class for promotion and the mother read the form wrong. Since, in the East Valley, school systems are separated by Elementary and High School Districts, and the two don't talk to one another, no one had checked to see if this student needed the class or not for promotion. Bureaucracy steps in the way of student achievement once again.
So Mom withdrew the student and that was the end of that. It's so frustrating, though, to work so hard on something, think you have come to an understanding with a person, and then realize you're on totally opposite pages, in totally opposite universes. So I guess my first foray into the field of parent communication did not exactly go as well as it seemed at first; however, there are definitely lessons to be learned from this. In my interview for my permanent school placement site in the fall, my new Principal asked if I had ever experience difficulties with a parent, or if not, how I would respond or react in that situation.
Now I have something to tell him.
peace and love from the grand canyon state,
pb
Positive Press
It just so happens that TFA has been getting a ton of (deserved) positive press lately. Two of the most noted papers in the country included positive articles about TFA in the past two days:
The New York Times
"A Chosen Few Are Teaching for America"
The Wall Street Journal
"What They're Doing After Harvard"
I especially like the first one because of the shoutout to Carolina - TFA is now the #1 employer at UNC! How awesome is that? Since I worked on the recruitment side last year it's great to see how our team's efforts have paid off and are being recognized.
I don't know why the barrage of positive press came at one time; maybe a concerted effort on the national front? But it certainly came at the right time; Institute is wrapping up and all of the encouragement certainly helps me stay focused!
peace and love from the grand canyon state,
pb
The New York Times
"A Chosen Few Are Teaching for America"
The Wall Street Journal
"What They're Doing After Harvard"
I especially like the first one because of the shoutout to Carolina - TFA is now the #1 employer at UNC! How awesome is that? Since I worked on the recruitment side last year it's great to see how our team's efforts have paid off and are being recognized.
I don't know why the barrage of positive press came at one time; maybe a concerted effort on the national front? But it certainly came at the right time; Institute is wrapping up and all of the encouragement certainly helps me stay focused!
peace and love from the grand canyon state,
pb
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
Great News for Maryland
Greetings readers! Big news from my old home this past week - Maryland's public schools are ranked 1st in the country (again!) by Newsweek AND Education Week.
Arizona's are ranked 46th.
I have a lot of work to do.
peace and love from the grand canyon state,
pb
Arizona's are ranked 46th.
I have a lot of work to do.
peace and love from the grand canyon state,
pb
Mr. Boyle and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day
"Not every day can be a gem," is what I remember one of my friends sagely remarking after a less-than-stellar night out at Ocean City for senior week way back in '06. I've taken that to heart over the past few years, and I've realized that even my bad days aren't really that bad, and I blow them out of proportion.
So even if last Monday wasn't actually a bad day by other people's standards, it was certainly for me.
I mean, Mondays suck anyway. That's always been the case. No one likes them, they're awful, they should be outlawed. End of story. And I've never believed this more than now, when my alarm clock starts its wretched ringing at 5:38 AM.
So the day, being a Monday, started off on a bad foot anyways.
Frazzled, on account of having a severe case of the Mondays, I ended up barely making the bus on time (thus sparing myself the $70 cab fare to Agua Fria - and yes, that's how far it is from Tempe), but in the process managed to lose my keys.
Maybe it was the coffee I guzzled on the way out to Avondale, or maybe it was my case of the Mondays sneaking up on my again, or maybe it was the fact that I was already over-stressed at this point, but I FREAKED out.
I couldn't concentrate. I couldn't focus on my lesson. And it showed. I switched from teaching reading to writing last Monday, and writing is TOUGH to teach. Now, I always thought that reading and writing go hand-in-hand. Like Starsky and Hutch or Donny and Marie or Dick Cheney and Donald Rumsfeld. But to my kids, they don't. Writing involves the creative thinking skills that just aren't stressed in underprivileged schools, and my kids really didn't enjoy writing.
So, at first, I didn't enjoy teaching it, and my lesson sort of flopped. (There will be a lot more to come about my struggles with the writing objectives, but it gets a lot better!)
I was so excited for the lesson to be over, and it showed. My thoughts were scattered, I couldn't answer basic questions, my kids were acting up a bit because they were confused, it just wasn't going well.
But then I decided, whoa, Peter, watch out. I had a TON to do that night; I couldn't let all of this get to me. 2 lesson plans AND Arizona Defensive Driving School lay in front of me, although none of those would be possible without my keys.
First thing's first: I wanted to avoid another encounter with Mr. Teacher-Cop at all costs, so I called the Yarnell Justice Court (oh, it's very real) and spoke to my new best friend (aka the clerk there) and we bonded over my famous name and OF COURSE she could grant me an extension on my traffic school completion and didn't I just have the most charming accent? (I throw in a lot of "y'all"s when I speak with older women, and I charm the pants of them)
Second: keys. Deep breaths. Where are they? Not in my lunch box. Yes, teachers carry around lunch boxes. Not in my classroom, or in my training rooms. Think. The bus? In reality, I was pretty sure they were on the bus all day, but I just couldn't help thinking of all the million places where they MIGHT (but in reality definitely WOULDN'T be - like a bar in Scottsdale or the bottom of a well or they were swept away in a sandstorm, etc.) be.
4:10 rolls around, and I run to the bus. Of course, there they were, sitting exactly where I stupidly left them. Deep breaths.
I focus during the bus ride on starting my lesson plans that are due that night, and then immediately start traffic school when I get back to ASU.
Arizona Defensive Driving School is all the worst parts of drivers' ed without an amusing alcoholic for an instructor to make things go by a little better. Literally, the first question on the test was:
1. What state's laws were discussed in this chapter?
A. Texas
B. Nevada
C. Arizona (DING DING DING - correct answer)
And there was a chapter entitled "Murder and Suicide on the Freeway" which I thought would be an entertaining true crime read in the vein of The Monster of Florence, but was just all about drunk driving. Bor-ing. Although I will never ever do that because I don't want crazy old Joe Arpaio to send me to Tent City, Arizona's prison for driving deadbeats located in the middle of the desert, actually quite conveniently close to Agua Fria.
I passed DDS by taking copious notes.*
*I actually passed DDS by copying-and-pasting and then waiting for the 4 hour and 30 minute clock to run down.
I used this time to lesson plan, which was actually a relaxing respite from DDS, if that could even be possible. AND I even got to go to McDonald's with my friend Amy and get a snack size McFlurry from the Dollar Menu, which made everything better.
11 PM rolled around, and I was done. My keys had been found, my driving school was completed (and I got a nifty certificate to boot), and yes, I had to teaching writing the next day, and yes, it was tough, but I could start over.
Tuesday was a new day.
Not every day is a gem, but if I take things one step at a time, and remember to breathe, things usually work out.
peace and love from the grand canyon state,
pb
So even if last Monday wasn't actually a bad day by other people's standards, it was certainly for me.
I mean, Mondays suck anyway. That's always been the case. No one likes them, they're awful, they should be outlawed. End of story. And I've never believed this more than now, when my alarm clock starts its wretched ringing at 5:38 AM.
So the day, being a Monday, started off on a bad foot anyways.
Frazzled, on account of having a severe case of the Mondays, I ended up barely making the bus on time (thus sparing myself the $70 cab fare to Agua Fria - and yes, that's how far it is from Tempe), but in the process managed to lose my keys.
Maybe it was the coffee I guzzled on the way out to Avondale, or maybe it was my case of the Mondays sneaking up on my again, or maybe it was the fact that I was already over-stressed at this point, but I FREAKED out.
I couldn't concentrate. I couldn't focus on my lesson. And it showed. I switched from teaching reading to writing last Monday, and writing is TOUGH to teach. Now, I always thought that reading and writing go hand-in-hand. Like Starsky and Hutch or Donny and Marie or Dick Cheney and Donald Rumsfeld. But to my kids, they don't. Writing involves the creative thinking skills that just aren't stressed in underprivileged schools, and my kids really didn't enjoy writing.
So, at first, I didn't enjoy teaching it, and my lesson sort of flopped. (There will be a lot more to come about my struggles with the writing objectives, but it gets a lot better!)
I was so excited for the lesson to be over, and it showed. My thoughts were scattered, I couldn't answer basic questions, my kids were acting up a bit because they were confused, it just wasn't going well.
But then I decided, whoa, Peter, watch out. I had a TON to do that night; I couldn't let all of this get to me. 2 lesson plans AND Arizona Defensive Driving School lay in front of me, although none of those would be possible without my keys.
First thing's first: I wanted to avoid another encounter with Mr. Teacher-Cop at all costs, so I called the Yarnell Justice Court (oh, it's very real) and spoke to my new best friend (aka the clerk there) and we bonded over my famous name and OF COURSE she could grant me an extension on my traffic school completion and didn't I just have the most charming accent? (I throw in a lot of "y'all"s when I speak with older women, and I charm the pants of them)
Second: keys. Deep breaths. Where are they? Not in my lunch box. Yes, teachers carry around lunch boxes. Not in my classroom, or in my training rooms. Think. The bus? In reality, I was pretty sure they were on the bus all day, but I just couldn't help thinking of all the million places where they MIGHT (but in reality definitely WOULDN'T be - like a bar in Scottsdale or the bottom of a well or they were swept away in a sandstorm, etc.) be.
4:10 rolls around, and I run to the bus. Of course, there they were, sitting exactly where I stupidly left them. Deep breaths.
I focus during the bus ride on starting my lesson plans that are due that night, and then immediately start traffic school when I get back to ASU.
Arizona Defensive Driving School is all the worst parts of drivers' ed without an amusing alcoholic for an instructor to make things go by a little better. Literally, the first question on the test was:
1. What state's laws were discussed in this chapter?
A. Texas
B. Nevada
C. Arizona (DING DING DING - correct answer)
And there was a chapter entitled "Murder and Suicide on the Freeway" which I thought would be an entertaining true crime read in the vein of The Monster of Florence, but was just all about drunk driving. Bor-ing. Although I will never ever do that because I don't want crazy old Joe Arpaio to send me to Tent City, Arizona's prison for driving deadbeats located in the middle of the desert, actually quite conveniently close to Agua Fria.
I passed DDS by taking copious notes.*
*I actually passed DDS by copying-and-pasting and then waiting for the 4 hour and 30 minute clock to run down.
I used this time to lesson plan, which was actually a relaxing respite from DDS, if that could even be possible. AND I even got to go to McDonald's with my friend Amy and get a snack size McFlurry from the Dollar Menu, which made everything better.
11 PM rolled around, and I was done. My keys had been found, my driving school was completed (and I got a nifty certificate to boot), and yes, I had to teaching writing the next day, and yes, it was tough, but I could start over.
Tuesday was a new day.
Not every day is a gem, but if I take things one step at a time, and remember to breathe, things usually work out.
peace and love from the grand canyon state,
pb
Sunday, July 4, 2010
“Run With the Flow of Traffic!”
The last time I went to Vegas was the last night of my epic cross-country roadtrip. We stayed at the awesomely kitschy Excalibur, dined at the restaurants at the Venetian, and then I treated everyone to table service at the outdoor nightclub Pure at Caesar’s Palace (joke’s on me – I thought I was being paid for these tough weeks of teacher boot camp. But I’m not – womp, womp). The night ended filled with drama and misery, so when I drove from Vegas to Phoenix, I certainly left Sin City with bittersweet memories.
And then I got my infamous speeding ticket in Yarnell, Arizona – really wasn’t a good 24 hours for me.
So now I’m headed back to Vegas with some of my TFAvorites for the 4th of July weekend, and we headed back over the same roads that I took to come to Phoenix about a month ago, passing by mile marker 191 (I think that’s what it was) where I had my encounter with Mr. Teacher-Cop.
But maybe the ride to Vegas can never be perfect, because we are stuck in hours of traffic on the Arizona side of the Hoover Dam. An aside: the Hoover Dam is amazing. It’s massive, a real engineering masterpiece, and the waters of Lake Mead behind it are so perfectly blue you think you’re upside down and staring into the sky as you peer down into the depths of the canyon gorged millions of years ago by the mighty Colorado River. I’m kind of glad, actually, that the traffic is so bad, because we’ve got a great look at the Dam and I got to take a picture of it this time, which I didn’t last time.
The traffic also made the “Be Prepared to Stop” sign along US 93 seem somewhat ironic; we had been stopped for about fifty minutes before that point, so that gave us a all a big laugh.
But the downside of this traffic is that a) we’ll get to Vegas WAY behind schedule and b) if the car is stalled because of the traffic in 104 degree weather (it’s kind of a chilly day here), the air conditioning fails. I’ve got this computer on my lap, and I’m wearing a swimsuit, and there is a nice laptop-sized sweat stain on my thighs. It’s that hot.
peace and love from lake mead,
pb
And then I got my infamous speeding ticket in Yarnell, Arizona – really wasn’t a good 24 hours for me.
So now I’m headed back to Vegas with some of my TFAvorites for the 4th of July weekend, and we headed back over the same roads that I took to come to Phoenix about a month ago, passing by mile marker 191 (I think that’s what it was) where I had my encounter with Mr. Teacher-Cop.
But maybe the ride to Vegas can never be perfect, because we are stuck in hours of traffic on the Arizona side of the Hoover Dam. An aside: the Hoover Dam is amazing. It’s massive, a real engineering masterpiece, and the waters of Lake Mead behind it are so perfectly blue you think you’re upside down and staring into the sky as you peer down into the depths of the canyon gorged millions of years ago by the mighty Colorado River. I’m kind of glad, actually, that the traffic is so bad, because we’ve got a great look at the Dam and I got to take a picture of it this time, which I didn’t last time.
The traffic also made the “Be Prepared to Stop” sign along US 93 seem somewhat ironic; we had been stopped for about fifty minutes before that point, so that gave us a all a big laugh.
But the downside of this traffic is that a) we’ll get to Vegas WAY behind schedule and b) if the car is stalled because of the traffic in 104 degree weather (it’s kind of a chilly day here), the air conditioning fails. I’ve got this computer on my lap, and I’m wearing a swimsuit, and there is a nice laptop-sized sweat stain on my thighs. It’s that hot.
peace and love from lake mead,
pb
An Ode to Mill Avenue
Befitting its status as the biggest school, and biggest party school, in the country, ASU naturally has an awesome party scene. The epicenter of it all, where it all goes down, is Mill Avenue, a king-sized version of Franklin Street in downtown Tempe. Mill is crowded, jam-packed even during the summer; I can only imagine how it is during the school year.
Mill Avenue is where ASU parades its awesomeness. Hot girls in bump-its with orange tans, gigantic guys wearing Ed Hardy without a hint of irony – Mill Avenue is kind of like the Jersey Shore.
The hotspots include Big Bang, a dueling piano bar where they took the whole Phoenix 2010 Corps on the Saturday before Institute started as a last hurrah before the intensity began. Dueling piano bars are my new favorite; after we went to one in Kansas City and met some fun Danes, I’ve been hooked. I mean, I think my job is tough, but workers at a dueling piano bar have to know every word to every song ever! Think of the pressure.
Fat Tuesday’s is a fun Mardi Gras-themed bar on Mill, the Cue Club has more pool tables and room to chill than any other bar I’ve been to. But, besides Big Bang, my all-time favorite bar on Mill is Vintage. Oh, Vintage. It’s a no-cover dance club with $1 PBR’s on Fridays; you can just imagine what goes down there. It’s like Players in Chapel Hill, but with a sketchier clientele, if that’s possible. It’s sweaty, it’s crowded, and it’s pretty dirty. But it’s the perfect place to rage and go wild after a tough week. I went three nights in a row at the end of Induction, and I didn’t think I could stand ever again after that.
Like everything, even Mill Ave has a worst thing I hate about it. The worst thing I hate about Mill is that each bar has bathroom attendants. I hate bathroom attendants. They make me feel so uncomfortable when they try to hand me paper towels or mints or mouthwash or whatever it is their hawking. And they demand tips and I never carry around cash, and tipping is awkward for me anyways because I can never figure out how much to give, so there’s that whole aspect of it too.
Not all of the best bars in Tempe are on Mill; my second favorite is called The Vine, and if you’ve been following me at all on Twitter (PeterCPBoyle – tweet me!) over the past few weeks, you know exactly how much time I spend there. It’s THE TFA bar – we go all the time. People go to lesson plan, people go to hang out, people go to just relax or rage on Friday nights after the weekend. One of my favorite parts of every week is heading to the Vine on Friday nights to see who’s around, share war stories from a week spent in the trenches fighting the education gap, and get a ton of dollar drinks. The amount of booze imbibed during the six week of Institute and Induction at the Vine would fill Lake Mead (which is to my right as I write this crossing over the Hoover Dam!) – although the Vine hasn’t realized this yet, and only has two bartenders available to serve all 500 of us at the Phoenix Institute.
Yesterday was the first Friday of July, and on the first Friday of each month, downtown Phoenix goes crazy with a street arts and booze festival called (creatively) First Fridays. But we all went to the Vine instead – we have two years to explore First Fridays, but the Vine will only be cool for the two weeks left of TFA training. And besides, it’s so convenient – it’s literally across Apache Street from our lovely dorms at ASU.
peace and love from the border of the grand canyon state and the silver state,
pb
Mill Avenue is where ASU parades its awesomeness. Hot girls in bump-its with orange tans, gigantic guys wearing Ed Hardy without a hint of irony – Mill Avenue is kind of like the Jersey Shore.
The hotspots include Big Bang, a dueling piano bar where they took the whole Phoenix 2010 Corps on the Saturday before Institute started as a last hurrah before the intensity began. Dueling piano bars are my new favorite; after we went to one in Kansas City and met some fun Danes, I’ve been hooked. I mean, I think my job is tough, but workers at a dueling piano bar have to know every word to every song ever! Think of the pressure.
Fat Tuesday’s is a fun Mardi Gras-themed bar on Mill, the Cue Club has more pool tables and room to chill than any other bar I’ve been to. But, besides Big Bang, my all-time favorite bar on Mill is Vintage. Oh, Vintage. It’s a no-cover dance club with $1 PBR’s on Fridays; you can just imagine what goes down there. It’s like Players in Chapel Hill, but with a sketchier clientele, if that’s possible. It’s sweaty, it’s crowded, and it’s pretty dirty. But it’s the perfect place to rage and go wild after a tough week. I went three nights in a row at the end of Induction, and I didn’t think I could stand ever again after that.
Like everything, even Mill Ave has a worst thing I hate about it. The worst thing I hate about Mill is that each bar has bathroom attendants. I hate bathroom attendants. They make me feel so uncomfortable when they try to hand me paper towels or mints or mouthwash or whatever it is their hawking. And they demand tips and I never carry around cash, and tipping is awkward for me anyways because I can never figure out how much to give, so there’s that whole aspect of it too.
Not all of the best bars in Tempe are on Mill; my second favorite is called The Vine, and if you’ve been following me at all on Twitter (PeterCPBoyle – tweet me!) over the past few weeks, you know exactly how much time I spend there. It’s THE TFA bar – we go all the time. People go to lesson plan, people go to hang out, people go to just relax or rage on Friday nights after the weekend. One of my favorite parts of every week is heading to the Vine on Friday nights to see who’s around, share war stories from a week spent in the trenches fighting the education gap, and get a ton of dollar drinks. The amount of booze imbibed during the six week of Institute and Induction at the Vine would fill Lake Mead (which is to my right as I write this crossing over the Hoover Dam!) – although the Vine hasn’t realized this yet, and only has two bartenders available to serve all 500 of us at the Phoenix Institute.
Yesterday was the first Friday of July, and on the first Friday of each month, downtown Phoenix goes crazy with a street arts and booze festival called (creatively) First Fridays. But we all went to the Vine instead – we have two years to explore First Fridays, but the Vine will only be cool for the two weeks left of TFA training. And besides, it’s so convenient – it’s literally across Apache Street from our lovely dorms at ASU.
peace and love from the border of the grand canyon state and the silver state,
pb
Diversions
It’s not all business all the time here, which is good. I go to the massive gym at ASU to get a release from the stress, and I get to go to the pool a lot to just take a break. Not only do I get to work on my pretty brown skin (which is still kind of pasty, since I spend most of my time inside the copy room or inside classroom J4 at Agua Fria.
But when I am at the pool, I’ve been reading an awesome true crime book called The Monster of Florence. It’s about Italy’s most notorious serial killer of the same name who terrorized the Tuscan countryside for a few decades towards the end of the last century. I know, I keep telling people what the book is about, and when I say serial killer, I get funny looks and sideways glances. The killer has never been found; Italy’s dysfunctional and corrupt judicial system has been accusing upstanding people for years of the murders based on crackpot conspiracy theories and personal vendettas while ignoring the basic facts and evidence of the case. The writers of the book, Mario Spezi and Douglas Preston, have been accused by a corrupt judge (the same one who cooked up the case against Amanda Knox) of complicity in the murders and weave their compelling first-person account of the vents involved into the chilling narrative relating the original evidence and reports of the crimes.
It’s a great story, a great way to escape from the challenges I face and I can’t help but to think, “Well, this is tough, but at least I haven’t been accused of the rape-murders of eighteen Italians back in the eighties.” And it’s always good to find another country that’s more messed up than ours is, as Italy is certainly portrayed in Il Mostro.
Speaking of diversions, I also got to revisit my childhood last weekend when a friend of mine and I left campus for a while to go see Toy Story 3. For many of us, the original Toy Story was a defining movie of our childhood. It was the first movie to bring the novelty of computer-assisted art to the big screen. Everyone saw it, everyone raved about it. Getting to see the culmination of the Toy Story saga (and in 3D too!) as I start my career as an educator was a fitting culmination to my own childhood; even though I’ve been out of the house for a few years, it was great to think back and reflect nonetheless.
And it’s always good to get a break from lesson planning and the copy room, too.
I hope everyone’s summer is going well, too!
peace and love from the grand canyon state,
pb
But when I am at the pool, I’ve been reading an awesome true crime book called The Monster of Florence. It’s about Italy’s most notorious serial killer of the same name who terrorized the Tuscan countryside for a few decades towards the end of the last century. I know, I keep telling people what the book is about, and when I say serial killer, I get funny looks and sideways glances. The killer has never been found; Italy’s dysfunctional and corrupt judicial system has been accusing upstanding people for years of the murders based on crackpot conspiracy theories and personal vendettas while ignoring the basic facts and evidence of the case. The writers of the book, Mario Spezi and Douglas Preston, have been accused by a corrupt judge (the same one who cooked up the case against Amanda Knox) of complicity in the murders and weave their compelling first-person account of the vents involved into the chilling narrative relating the original evidence and reports of the crimes.
It’s a great story, a great way to escape from the challenges I face and I can’t help but to think, “Well, this is tough, but at least I haven’t been accused of the rape-murders of eighteen Italians back in the eighties.” And it’s always good to find another country that’s more messed up than ours is, as Italy is certainly portrayed in Il Mostro.
Speaking of diversions, I also got to revisit my childhood last weekend when a friend of mine and I left campus for a while to go see Toy Story 3. For many of us, the original Toy Story was a defining movie of our childhood. It was the first movie to bring the novelty of computer-assisted art to the big screen. Everyone saw it, everyone raved about it. Getting to see the culmination of the Toy Story saga (and in 3D too!) as I start my career as an educator was a fitting culmination to my own childhood; even though I’ve been out of the house for a few years, it was great to think back and reflect nonetheless.
And it’s always good to get a break from lesson planning and the copy room, too.
I hope everyone’s summer is going well, too!
peace and love from the grand canyon state,
pb
“Teaching is Hard”
Back during Induction, which seems like several years ago but was really only 4 four weeks ago, everyone kept saying “Teaching is hard, teaching is hard, teaching is hard…” and I was like I get it, teaching is hard. But you know what, teaching is hard.
You’re acting all the time, it’s a constant presentation, you’re in the spotlight at all times. There are 13 people who are literally depending on you to change their lives. It’s a pressure cooker up there in front of the room, with staff members in the back observing.
Flexibility is a necessity. The projector breaks, you can’t find your assessments for the day, you didn’t make enough copies of the guided notes, you lost the rough draft of Junior’s essay, the air conditioning is broken.
The planning takes hours, maybe an hour per lesson plan, and then the revising and copying and printing takes even longer.
But it’s wonderful. The best part of my day is the hour when I’m up in the front of the classroom, writing notes on a transparency on the projector, asking for questions, checking for understanding, improving my practice. I love teaching. I love the look of “Aha!” when one of my kids “gets” it, or the pride on one of their faces if they got a 100 on their daily assessment.
I definitely chose the right career path.
peace and love from the grand canyon state (actually the part that’s right next to the Hoover Dam because I’m stuck in traffic o my way to Vegas for the 4th),
pb
You’re acting all the time, it’s a constant presentation, you’re in the spotlight at all times. There are 13 people who are literally depending on you to change their lives. It’s a pressure cooker up there in front of the room, with staff members in the back observing.
Flexibility is a necessity. The projector breaks, you can’t find your assessments for the day, you didn’t make enough copies of the guided notes, you lost the rough draft of Junior’s essay, the air conditioning is broken.
The planning takes hours, maybe an hour per lesson plan, and then the revising and copying and printing takes even longer.
But it’s wonderful. The best part of my day is the hour when I’m up in the front of the classroom, writing notes on a transparency on the projector, asking for questions, checking for understanding, improving my practice. I love teaching. I love the look of “Aha!” when one of my kids “gets” it, or the pride on one of their faces if they got a 100 on their daily assessment.
I definitely chose the right career path.
peace and love from the grand canyon state (actually the part that’s right next to the Hoover Dam because I’m stuck in traffic o my way to Vegas for the 4th),
pb
Saturday, July 3, 2010
Sun Devils are better than Blue Devils
I started my first grad school class at Arizona State University on May 5. I graduated from the University of North Carolina on May 9. This doesn’t really add up for me, either.
But yes, now I am a member of the Arizona State University Masters of Education Class of 2012. The work is supposed to be kind of a joke, but if I’m gonna be 23 and have worked as a teacher for two years AND have a Master’s, mostly paid for on TFA’s dime, I’ll take it. And the state requires it to be a certified teacher, so that’s a pretty compelling reason, too.
I’ll be taking my classes at ASU’s downtown Phoenix campus, which is conveniently across the street from my swanky new apartment. But this summer I’m staying at the main campus in Tempe, in ASU’s dorms.
I haven’t lived in a dorm since sophomore year and I haven’t wanted to. If someone asked me last year what I would be doing this summer, I sure as hell wouldn’t have said that I would be living in a dorm in Tempe, Arizona.
As far as dorms go, Hassayampa is pretty nice; however, I think it was designed by a chronic drunk. Hallways abruptly end, as do stairways and elevators, which also are in the habit of getting stuck periodically. Doors lock and you can’t get back in them; the place is kind of like a fortress. To get into my room, I have to unlock six (SIX!) different doors. This cannot be safe in case of a fire.
Like I said, the building must have been designed by someone with substance abuse issues: two bedrooms share a bathroom, and that’s fine, except for that the bathroom locks from the inside and sometimes our suitemates forget to unlock our door (and sometimes we forget to unlock their door). So that periodically sucks.
I have a friend in the Corps who interned for the architectural firm that designed the building, and warned us before we moved in that it was an awful building. I should have believed him.
Also, ASU is on this “green” kick. This means that the water in the bathrooms is “low flow” in order to use less of it, and we and our suitemates have to share one air conditioning unit, which must be set at the same temperature for both rooms, and as someone who prefers to make my room a little icebox oasis in the Arizona desert, the room is almost invariably too hot.
Arizona is the opposite of Denmark; but they do have one thing in common: no trashcans. In their initiatives to “green” their respective domains, they place recycling bins everywhere. However, the remains of a Subway sandwich, for example, cannot be recycled, and thus I’m left with a smelly sandwich in my grad student bag.
Those are the worst things I hate about ASU and its campus, but there are a million things I love. One is the Tempe bar scene, and more on that to come, but one is also definitely ASU’s gym. I’ve never seen a larger fitness facility – it’s unreal. It has three pools, three massive weight rooms (one of which is outside – explain how that works), and about 75 cardio machines, maybe even more.
Of course all of this is fitting for being the largest school in the country, I mean ASU has to accommodate at least some of its 60,000 students, but I was impressed nonetheless.
The physical campus itself is also very pretty: manicured patches of desert dotted by saguaro and prickly pears dot the landscape. The buildings are also typical Arizona faux-adobe and the temperatures of icicles, and they have a Starbucks, a Burger King, AND a Taco Bell in their Union.
I miss Chapel Hill dearly; I miss the azaleas by South Building and the Old Well, and I miss laying out on the Quad, and I miss Franklin Street and the Carolina blue seats of the Dean Dome. I miss trips to Southpoint and I miss the Top O blueberry beer and blue cups at He’s Not.
But the transition was a lot easier to move out here to have such a great college and college town to come to.
peace and love from the grand canyon state,
pb
But yes, now I am a member of the Arizona State University Masters of Education Class of 2012. The work is supposed to be kind of a joke, but if I’m gonna be 23 and have worked as a teacher for two years AND have a Master’s, mostly paid for on TFA’s dime, I’ll take it. And the state requires it to be a certified teacher, so that’s a pretty compelling reason, too.
I’ll be taking my classes at ASU’s downtown Phoenix campus, which is conveniently across the street from my swanky new apartment. But this summer I’m staying at the main campus in Tempe, in ASU’s dorms.
I haven’t lived in a dorm since sophomore year and I haven’t wanted to. If someone asked me last year what I would be doing this summer, I sure as hell wouldn’t have said that I would be living in a dorm in Tempe, Arizona.
As far as dorms go, Hassayampa is pretty nice; however, I think it was designed by a chronic drunk. Hallways abruptly end, as do stairways and elevators, which also are in the habit of getting stuck periodically. Doors lock and you can’t get back in them; the place is kind of like a fortress. To get into my room, I have to unlock six (SIX!) different doors. This cannot be safe in case of a fire.
Like I said, the building must have been designed by someone with substance abuse issues: two bedrooms share a bathroom, and that’s fine, except for that the bathroom locks from the inside and sometimes our suitemates forget to unlock our door (and sometimes we forget to unlock their door). So that periodically sucks.
I have a friend in the Corps who interned for the architectural firm that designed the building, and warned us before we moved in that it was an awful building. I should have believed him.
Also, ASU is on this “green” kick. This means that the water in the bathrooms is “low flow” in order to use less of it, and we and our suitemates have to share one air conditioning unit, which must be set at the same temperature for both rooms, and as someone who prefers to make my room a little icebox oasis in the Arizona desert, the room is almost invariably too hot.
Arizona is the opposite of Denmark; but they do have one thing in common: no trashcans. In their initiatives to “green” their respective domains, they place recycling bins everywhere. However, the remains of a Subway sandwich, for example, cannot be recycled, and thus I’m left with a smelly sandwich in my grad student bag.
Those are the worst things I hate about ASU and its campus, but there are a million things I love. One is the Tempe bar scene, and more on that to come, but one is also definitely ASU’s gym. I’ve never seen a larger fitness facility – it’s unreal. It has three pools, three massive weight rooms (one of which is outside – explain how that works), and about 75 cardio machines, maybe even more.
Of course all of this is fitting for being the largest school in the country, I mean ASU has to accommodate at least some of its 60,000 students, but I was impressed nonetheless.
The physical campus itself is also very pretty: manicured patches of desert dotted by saguaro and prickly pears dot the landscape. The buildings are also typical Arizona faux-adobe and the temperatures of icicles, and they have a Starbucks, a Burger King, AND a Taco Bell in their Union.
I miss Chapel Hill dearly; I miss the azaleas by South Building and the Old Well, and I miss laying out on the Quad, and I miss Franklin Street and the Carolina blue seats of the Dean Dome. I miss trips to Southpoint and I miss the Top O blueberry beer and blue cups at He’s Not.
But the transition was a lot easier to move out here to have such a great college and college town to come to.
peace and love from the grand canyon state,
pb
The ACTUAL Worst Thing I Hate About TFA
TFA gives us $75 of printing and copying money for the five weeks of Institute. This is good, because English teachers print literally hundreds of pages of passages, assessments, readings, and note pages every week.
However, to use this copy money, I have to hike about half a mile across the ASU campus to the Copy Room. It’s under the business school at the Tempe campus, and it has about 100 computers, 15 copy machines, and a few printers and scanners.
This room is the worst thing I hate about TFA.
It has one rule: “No crying in the Copy Room.” That’s good, because the copy room is about as high-stress as TFA gets. People frantically run around from computer to printer to copier with no smiles on their faces and lots of coffee.
And, on top of this pressure cooker dungeon atmosphere, the technological logistics of the place are mind-boggling. Only one of the three scanners works, the printing and copying systems are not on the same contract and thus not on the same networks, which makes it hard to work with both of them, and for some reason my conference card (my ASU ID) only works on a few printers.
Oh, and on top of this, there is one magical mystery printer that prints 8 times as much as you want, and I can never remember which one that is.
It is my stressful and awful personal hell and I have already run out of printing money.
I try to avoid this place at all, but it’s sort of a requirement to, you know, have papers for my students and such.
I hate it.
peace and love from the grand canyon state,
pb
However, to use this copy money, I have to hike about half a mile across the ASU campus to the Copy Room. It’s under the business school at the Tempe campus, and it has about 100 computers, 15 copy machines, and a few printers and scanners.
This room is the worst thing I hate about TFA.
It has one rule: “No crying in the Copy Room.” That’s good, because the copy room is about as high-stress as TFA gets. People frantically run around from computer to printer to copier with no smiles on their faces and lots of coffee.
And, on top of this pressure cooker dungeon atmosphere, the technological logistics of the place are mind-boggling. Only one of the three scanners works, the printing and copying systems are not on the same contract and thus not on the same networks, which makes it hard to work with both of them, and for some reason my conference card (my ASU ID) only works on a few printers.
Oh, and on top of this, there is one magical mystery printer that prints 8 times as much as you want, and I can never remember which one that is.
It is my stressful and awful personal hell and I have already run out of printing money.
I try to avoid this place at all, but it’s sort of a requirement to, you know, have papers for my students and such.
I hate it.
peace and love from the grand canyon state,
pb
Panera doesn’t exist here
Today I was driving up the road to Vegas for the 4th and I saw a very familiar billboard. Looking back at me was a delicious strawberry chicken salad, on a dark brown background. The font seemed similar too; but, instead of the familiar Panera Bread branding was PARADISE BREAD CAFÉ. What??
I immediately assumed that some major Chinese-style intellectual property theft was going on, so I turned to my trusty CrackBerry and decided to check the situation out.
Turns out that much like daylight savings time or a sane state legislature, Arizona doesn’t have Panera Bread, but its own version. It’s called Paradise Bread Company and it is a wholly-owned subsidiary of Panera. I haven’t been to one yet, but I will have to check it out.
I also was indeed wondering why I hadn’t seen any Paneras here yet; guess that mystery’s solved.
peace and love from the grand canyon state,
pb
I immediately assumed that some major Chinese-style intellectual property theft was going on, so I turned to my trusty CrackBerry and decided to check the situation out.
Turns out that much like daylight savings time or a sane state legislature, Arizona doesn’t have Panera Bread, but its own version. It’s called Paradise Bread Company and it is a wholly-owned subsidiary of Panera. I haven’t been to one yet, but I will have to check it out.
I also was indeed wondering why I hadn’t seen any Paneras here yet; guess that mystery’s solved.
peace and love from the grand canyon state,
pb
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
What ELSE gets me through the day
So definitely the inspirational moments that I discussed last week are crucial in getting through these tough, rough days at Intenstitute, but I have other ways as well.
My favorite: countdowns.
I've always been a big believer in countdowns. They give me something to look forward too. And now, that so much is going on, I have several countdowns counting down all at once, reminding me that this is doable, and, quite frankly, that it's almost over.
Working days left of Intenstitute: 12 (of 24 --> halfway done!)
Lessons left at Intenstitute: 10 (of 16)
Lessons left to plan at Intenstitute: 7 (of 16 --> more than halfway done!)
Days left in the week: 3
Days until I go back to Vegas to celebrate the 4th with TFAers: 4
Days until July 4th, which I have off: 6
Full weeks left of Intenstitute: 2 (out of 5, or 6 if you count Induction, which means I'm almost 2/3 done with training!)
Of course I love it when Jose tells me all about his family's hometown in Mexico and his favorite ice cream truck there. And I love it when Jared, who has a total lack of motivation, comes up with a brilliant introductory paragraph for his persuasive essay basically out of nowhere. Those remind me why I'm here in the first place.
But I also love counting down until all this is over, and I can breathe again.
peace and love from the grand canyon state,
pb
My favorite: countdowns.
I've always been a big believer in countdowns. They give me something to look forward too. And now, that so much is going on, I have several countdowns counting down all at once, reminding me that this is doable, and, quite frankly, that it's almost over.
Working days left of Intenstitute: 12 (of 24 --> halfway done!)
Lessons left at Intenstitute: 10 (of 16)
Lessons left to plan at Intenstitute: 7 (of 16 --> more than halfway done!)
Days left in the week: 3
Days until I go back to Vegas to celebrate the 4th with TFAers: 4
Days until July 4th, which I have off: 6
Full weeks left of Intenstitute: 2 (out of 5, or 6 if you count Induction, which means I'm almost 2/3 done with training!)
Of course I love it when Jose tells me all about his family's hometown in Mexico and his favorite ice cream truck there. And I love it when Jared, who has a total lack of motivation, comes up with a brilliant introductory paragraph for his persuasive essay basically out of nowhere. Those remind me why I'm here in the first place.
But I also love counting down until all this is over, and I can breathe again.
peace and love from the grand canyon state,
pb
Sunday, June 27, 2010
Today's Anxiety Alert
Even though I'm working these incredibly long days in this incredibly hot place in this incredibly rewarding job, it's not the teaching that is making me nervous today.
It's that damned speeding ticket again. I just can't shake it off.
So my court date is next Wednesday, and Mr. Teacher-Cop told me I don't have to go if I take the magic traffic school. But I have to take traffic school by THIS Wednesday, and I just registered today, and I have two lesson plans due Monday night and busy days every day this week.
I'm taking it online, but that means I have to answer 80% of the questions about MY OWN IDENTITY correctly, and I'm worried about failing those because I have moved around so much recently, like what if they ask me what my address is and I put the wrong one because I've had literally 11 addresses since college began and I can never remember any of them.
So this means I may have to find a 24-hour notary to take my test in front of, because I really need to take care of this ASAP, because if I don't a warrant will be issued for my arrest and that's not cool. I can just imagine Mr. Teacher-Cop storming into my classroom J4 at Agua Fria and arresting me in front of my kids.
I'm loving this teacher thing; it's this being-an-adult thing that scares me.
peace and love from the grand canyon state,
pb
The Parent Trap
I knew that I would be becoming a "real teacher" during Intenstitute, but it never occurred to me that I would be doing real teacher things like calling parents during my time at Agua Fria. So when they dropped this bombshell on us last week, that we would have to make contact with our parents over the weekend, I was terrified.
Who am I to speak to these people? What do I say? "Hey, I'm about 3 weeks into my career as a teacher, I've got no real idea what I'm doing, and I've known your kid for 4 days...here's what you should do to support Jose's education!"
Turns out I couldn't even say that to Jose's mother, because she speaks Spanish and I don't. This is only one of the things I have to work around.
The parents of our students genuinely want their kids to succeed; it's part of Investing in our kids' success that we reach out to them and form a student-centered partnership to encourage learning and growth.
But I really had no clue what to say.
I called the easiest kid first. Jimmy is one of my favorites; he has a great attitude and has been through so much that it's really an inspiration and a pleasure to work with him. (And he told me he was going to Tucson to visit his great-great-great grandmother - I'm skeptical - for the weekend, so I knew he wouldn't be home and I could leave a voicemail ;)
"This number has been disconnected..."
One down, two to go.
So I called Kristy next. Kristy missed the past two days of school and if she misses one more she'll be dismissed from the program. After all, it's only 19 days long, and please believe we have a llllooooonnnggggg way to go with Kristy. Kristy's Mom and I were on the same page...I stammered and she had a thick accent, but eventually we came to the conclusion that it is really important to have Kristy in class and that I would indeed see her tomorrow. "After all, her education is very important," as Mom would say. (I use "Mom" in the teacher sense. Kristy's mom is "Mom" when we're talking about Kristy, Joseph's mom is "Mom" when we're talking about Joseph, so try to follow along)
Then came the big challenge: Jose. Now Jose is really quiet, and definitely wants to learn. But he comes from a Spanish-speaking household, and I didn't know what to expect when I called Mom. But she answered in English, and I took that to mean that I could respond in English, so there we were, embarking on a monosyllabic discourse in Simple English about the importance of progress reports and attendance. I think we understood each other; I'm not quite sure. (I know this is imperfect, and my school in the fall has a translator on the payroll, as most schools here do, so I know that I have a ways to go to improve my practice in this regard - that's another things. TFA calls teaching a "practice", just as a doctor "practices medicine" or a lawyer "practices law" - another aspect of our lingo)
I survived my first parent call; I felt like the Lindsay Lohan character in "Mean Girls" after she survives her first three-way calling attack. It was tough, but I did it.
Like everything else here, it was tough, but I did it.
peace and love from the grand canyon state,
pb
"He's loving this right now..."
I love my job.
Now there are many reasons why I am saying this. Yeah, I definitely believe in the mission. Yeah, I love the TFAers and everyone I work with. Yeah, I love Arizona. But I REALLY love acting the part.
I love pushing a projector around the campus and having dry-erase ink stains on my hands.
I love how I think that Shakespeare must have been talking about the teaching profession when he said that "All the world's a stage" since we are literally acting and presenting all the time.
I love that kids have to call me Mr. Boyle and that they haven't figured out that I'm about 6 days older than they are and that they haven't figured out that they don't really have to listen to me.
I love that I can parade around campus with my sunglasses and my Starbucks and make fun comments about the students with my other teacher friends. (Three girls in Bump-its and eye shadow walk by and one of my bosses snickers and says "Ha, I hope those three will be in the same class...those princesses will be really fun to deal with")
It's like we're all in this amazing club...it's a great power trip. Of course I love that I'm making an impact in my work...but I also love that I have genuine power and responsibilities. No paper-pushing for me. I'm busy with my gradebook and making copies and writing hall passes.
I love my job.
peace and love from the grand canyon state,
pb
"A desert version of South Beach"
Scottsdale would be easy to hate. It's one of the richest suburbs in the country, it has awesome schools, it's the epitome of the New West.
But it's just so damn awesome.
We always compare the school districts where Corps Members are placed with the Scottsdale schools. "Well, only 40% of 3rd graders i the Roosevelt District can read, imagine if they were born in Scottsdale..." type deals. And it's Tempe's northern neighbor, kind of looking down at the rabble-rousing college kids who live beyond it's privileged borders.
But I went their the other day, and really enjoyed it.
(Side Note: I knew I would. It's totally my kind of place. But it's really fun to get caught up in the anti-suburbia frenzy when I'm working in a neighborhood plagued by gang violence)
There's a nice "waterfront" along an intermittent stream, a ton of great restaurants and resorts, and the heart of the Phoenix (and Southwestern) club scene. Every mall is like the Towson Town Center Luxury Wing. It's also cougar central...fifty-five never looked so good.
It bills itself as the "Most Western Town in the West", which makes no sense since it has a Saks and a Nordstrom and seven five-star resorts on one street (Camelback Road). But at least they deck these places out in fake adobe and statues of bucking broncos, so the illusion kind of works.
I haven't hit up the club scene there yet; I'll stick to my old stand-bys in the college town of Tempe while I'm living here for the summer and make time to explore during the year, when I have the time and cash to do so.
But it was really nice to go to a great restaurant, watch the World Cup (Ghana sucks) game in a pretty posh atmosphere, and then take a break from fixing all of the world's educational ills and just live the life of a yuppy international business major again.
I'm sure I'll be back soon.
peace and love from the grand canyon state,
pb
St. Wendy
As some of you know, TFA was born as a senior thesis at Princeton University in 1989, the brainchild of one Wendy Kopp. Wendy is as TFAmous as it gets; basically, all 177 of us in the Phoenix Corps would be unemployed without her.
Her writing is powerful, her story is inspirational. She is truly one of the great social entrepreneurs of all time. (PS: one of my 9th graders wants to be an entrepreneur, and spelled it correctly the other day...this was my concentration in college and I can't even spell it correctly without the help of spell check)
We had our Institute Kick-Off last Wednesday in Scottsdale; it was a huge pep rally with inspirational stories and montages about how awesome and effective we all will be. Rumors were swirling that Wendy Kopp herself would be our keynote speaker. Wendy Kopp herself! How exciting! We were all preparing to be wowed by her awesomeness and obvious gift at public speaking.
But she was super awkward. Like, fumbling over simple phrases, forgetting where she was, mumbling, shifting her feet, not making eye contact, those kinds of things. Now, I had heard this before, that she was really awkward in person; her 2006 graduation speech at UNC was widely panned. But I thought that maybe in a room full of her acolytes and apologists, she would shine like a rock star.
No, not quite. After a disappointing speech which we nonetheless rewarded with a standing ovation, none of less feeling wowed and inspired by her mere presence. But just looking at TFA, and how it started in a dorm room in Jersey and now has 40,000 alumni working to close the achievement gap all across the country, you still can't help being inspired by the message, if not by the messenger.
peace and love from the grand canyon state,
pb
Modern Marvels
I know I've talked about this a lot, but it is just so great to hear from everyone every once in a while, either through texts, or Facebook, or email, or a phone call, or mail, or BBM, or Twitter, or on the comments on this blog! It really makes it easier to get through the long days when I get to connect to the non-TFA outside world.
So keep it up guys!
And also, just imagine how much harder it would be if those conveniences didn't exist. I was driving in Scottsdale the other day and passed a marker about the old Pony Express and it got me thinking. It is just so easy now to stay in touch; just the instantaneous click of a mouse or ringing of the phone can put you in contact with someone halfway around the world. I can't imagine moving out here without a cell phone or the Internet; it would just be so lonely.
So communication is awesome.
peace and love from the grand canyon state,
pb
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