C-U-P-C-A-K-E S-T-U-P-O-R

Today my after school club met for the second time. "The spellsters" (lame name, i know. But could there be a cool name for a spelling club? --> suggestions welcome)

I flipped when I saw that I had 27 kids signed up for the club-- ranging from kindergarten to 8th grade. Yikes. How do you engage that kind of age range? Serious center work would have to be involved. And what kind of words can kindergartners spell anyways? Do they even know the alphabet? I decided to wing it this week; assess the situation and then go from there.

Thankfully, only 10 showed up today. 3 kindergartners, 3 1st graders, a 3rd grader, and a 5th grader.  Between my cupcake-lunch and exhausting day, I was fighting the effects of a serious sugar crash. In said stupor I tried to decipher the names of two 1st graders, Amadu Jalloh and Bailor Jalloh. That took about 5 minutes because of their thick (albeit adorable) accents. I then turned to their kindergarten cousin: "And what's your name, dear?"

"[indecipherable cuteness]"

"Can you spell it for me, please?" [dry erase marker rapidly drying out]

He stares at me blankly and Bailor chimes in: "Oh no, I'll spell it for you. He doesn't know how to spell his name."

I laugh out loud. Of course he doesn't.

in the bag?

Today I was armed with some new ideas for my lesson: I would give some space for student voices by letting them uncover the meanings of vocabulary words through context clues rather than just telling them myself. We would share our ideas and agree on a class definition. Cool, right? Also, I prepared a mystery bag for each class as a way to introduce our new stories. The kids would pull out items from the bags and make predictions, connections, etc. Cool, right?

I felt good about the efforts I had made to mix it up. My planning was strong; every minute was full. 

And the day still didn't go well. 3 kids in 303 would not stop talking. I tried to send them to the accommodation room. They refused. So I called for security. He didn't come. So the kids stayed in my room talking. Tonight I should be thinking through solutions for next time. "What could I have done to redirect Savaughn?" "What consequences will Maya take seriously?" Grr... I confess my unwillingness. This resiliency bit is exhausting. 

still got it, baby!

Two summers ago i had one major concern about teaching in the rough and tumble of the Philadelphia school system: I didn't want to lose my "soft edges."

_ _ _ _ _

Today there were three fights in my classroom. Three. Every class had one. So I called security three times today. And three times I gave a stern lecture about fighting in the classroom (I sing a similar song after every fight... though no one seems to be moved) 

I don't try to break up the 8th grade fights. Most of the 7th graders are still small enough that I have a height advantage. For example, last week I dragged Rashan out of the classroom by his leg. But the 8th graders are either too big for me, or too vicious. So I steer clear and try to direct one of my other students to "Get Antoine!" or "Grab Anthony and walk him down to the office!" Of course, none of the boys hear me because their adrenaline is pound, pound, pounding away in their ears and fists. 

After fight #2 today, I launched into my lecture. Students were mostly silent as I explained consequences and why I was disappointed. Then the criticism came.

Kyhleil to me: You didn't even try to break it up! You just stood there!

Me: Kyhleil, would you encourage your mother to get in the middle of a fight?

[Kyhleil considers my question]

Allure: Ms. Linton isn't going to get in the middle, y'all. She's too... soft.

_ _ _ _ _

I was a little insulted. (Why?) I think because I knew she meant it as an insult. I have decided not to take it as one, though. For now I'll take it as a point of pride (or the grace of God) that my "soft edges" have not been entirely roughed up by the fists of Harrity. 

ass me no questions, i'll tell you no lies

Probably the worst week yet. And I think that was mostly because of one particular group of students: Homeroom 304. [lightning strikes, terrifying music plays] They come to me from 12:06 - 1:36. They come armed with attitude and full bladders and paper balls. Their mantra? "We don't give a f***" And in all my resolve to enforce a no-cursing policy in my classroom, I let the whole day go to hell in a hand basket on Thursday with one slip of the tongue: "Hakim! Sit your ass down!"

Yikes. The crowd went wild. And I stood there, exhausted, thinking that I was done trying. That I couldn't possibly feign control for the remaining 25 minutes of the class. 

But here's my problem with 304. (and every other group of kids at some point in the year). I give them too much power. Which is a funny way to put it considering that empowerment might be one thing that this teaching-gig is all about. But they are just kids. They deal with a lot of adult problems, unfortunately. But mostly they are 13. 

Yesterday was better with 304. I didn't yell any expletives at a child. I smiled a few times. We finished our story, "Flowers for Algernon." (tragic science fiction) And Hakim doesn't seem to be holding a grudge, which I think is very big of him. 

Conclusions?

It has been ten days since I last wrote. (That sentence sounds a whole lot like, "It has been ten days since my last confession." Either one will do)

Nothing too exciting has happened in the meantime. I did, however, conduct an apple tasting in my classroom. We tried Gala, Braeburn, Pink Lady, and  Honeycrisp apples. Conclusions? While Pink Lady is definitely the classiest apple, Honeycrisp is the best tasting. Landslide vote. 

Energy levels were high at the apple tasting. Times like those I'm reminded that my students are children. I am getting really good at giving clear, measurable directions. You would probably throw yourself out of the window if you had to sit through one of my classes:

"I need everyone to clear their desk. Silently! Good, Jessica. Good, Brittany. Totally bare. Justin's got it. Hold your questions. This is not a good time to ask me questions. Good, Donyetta. Almost everyone has followed my instructions. I'm waiting for 3 people to clear their desks. If you are talking, you are not following my directions."

blah, blah, blah. Ad infinitum. Middle school is a strange animal. This year I am a control freak and I think it is a good thing... but if I stay in teaching I don't think I will always run my classroom this way. I am convinced that somewhere in the 3-5 year mark a teacher really finds his/her stride. I'm just doing what I need to do to keep my sanity and the kids in their seats. Okay. Not totally true. That was last year.

This year I am doing what I need to do to keep my sanity and the kids' mouths closed. Baby steps.