I am enjoying teaching the special education students who are in the classes I will be with for the next 5 1/2 weeks. The classes, which have as many as eight or nine students in the room at the same time, are broken up on paper as learning several different subjects. These may be biology, physical science, and math all in the same room at the same time. I think the different students have been listed as learning whatever subject they have on paper because they need credits in that particular subject to graduate.
One of the deans of the school, when I asked her what she wanted me to teach, simply said, "Teach 'em science." I have modified that somewhat. I start with "the word of the day," to increase their vocabulary. Then I go to a Xeroxed handout in which the basics of science -- elements, atoms, compounds, etc -- are defined and explained. Also, if there is a scientific story in the news, I spend about ten or fifteen minutes on that, too. I write on the board as I talk, and I have them copy what I write into their notebooks. As I talk, I continually ask students questions about the subject matter and their experiences with it. When we discussed Alzheimers, I heard about some interesting experiences.
We are working with Xerox copies drawn from different textbooks. And as I have more and more experience with these students I have become aware that their intellectual level varies enormously. It is rather like teaching in a one-room schoolhouse in which I am trying to educate 4 different grades.
One of the young ladies shows up in two of my four classes each day. She has a rather sad affect. I don't see her smiling, and I don't see her interacting much with the other students. What I do see, however, is that she takes excellent notes every day, usually both sides of a page of lined paper. She is diligent about her schoolwork. And on several occasions when other students have interrupted the class with talking she has told them to be quiet.
I'm using the only teaching technique I know, the one used in my classes 55 or 60 years ago at Exeter, when we sat around a big, table and the instructor went over the material with us.
"What is an element ?" he would ask. "John, tell us what an element is." and we would struggle through whatever notions we had in our heads, while the instructor would verbally nudge and push us in the direction of the correct definition until finally we reached it.
How intelligent really are these kids ? Someone claims their math and English skills are on a 3rd or 4th grade level. One of the school psychologists told me today that a few of them are really high-level "retarded." I haven't spotted this in any of them.
I like these kids, and I think they like me. One of them who wishes to become an NFL football player asked me yesterday if I would go to their next home football game. He sounded as though he really wanted me to be there, so I am guessing that he must find me an okay instructor.
Whenever I am teaching these kids I am haunted by the idea that they have been classified and categorized in a way that makes them subject to lower expectations than they are capable of.
High school kids are like beagles. They're motivated by food. That's why I have promised them a pizza party this Friday. I'll have four or five large pizzas and some soda delivered to the classroom just before lunchtime. When I ask a question in class, nothing grabs their attention more than when I say, "Answer this for one pizza point. You have to have pizza points to come to the party."
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Monday, September 28, 2009
Threats from Students
One does not often get threats from students, but I have had one or two.
One time a year or so ago I had a student sitting in the middle of my class say to me, "You're afraid of us." The way I dealt with it could have been a disaster, but it worked. I approached the student and when I was about three feet away I lowered my face opposite the student's and said, "Not in your wildest dreams. I wasn't afraid of the kids when I worked in Juvenile Hall, and I'm not afraid of you, either."
This past Friday I subbed for a new teacher and had classes of about 34 students. The teacher gave me excellent instructions in writing about the classes -- who which ones would probably be difficult, which students (about two or three per class) I could trust because they were honest, and what needed to be done.
I saw a few familiar students in these classes and I lot I had never met before. I don't remember if I described the very little ninth-grader who still sucked his thumb and who called me a "mother-fucker" a year or so ago. He appeased in one of these classes this past Friday. He still sucks his thumb and he still acts up in class, jumping out of his seat, talking, running around and causing a disturbance. It was interesting to me to see that he still follows the old behavior patterns even though he must now be in tenth grade, and that he seems not to have matured appreciably either emotionally or physically. Also in one of Friday's classes was a very large, very intelligent student I had had in classes when I spent two weeks teaching a physiology class a year or so ago. This student did his work, didn't say much, but was noticeable because of his dress. I am not sure iuf he is trying to give the impression of being a cross between a Nazi naval officer or a policeman, but his garb, very dark blue and covered with pseudo-military accountrments, is striking.
The worst class of the day was the sixth period, where a group of about eight students sitting in the center and back of the class tried to act up, create disturbances, and cheat on their tests. I wrote up one of them and sent him off with security. A few minutes later while my back was briefly turned a voice from that general section of the room said, "You better watch out for your Camry now."
I have started parking my Camry in a disabled space next to an entrance to the school. A great many people come by this spot, so I have no doubt the student had seen me there with my car before. I have reached the point in the deterioration of my hip that while I wait another two months for my hip replacement operation I must take pain killers for walking. Before this, I had parked my cart several blocks away in an area the students don't go -- on the advice of my wife, who used to work for the Berkeley School District. Pain or not, I think I shall go back to parking in that same area. Obviously, even if the car were damaged I would not know which student had done the damage. But pain or no pain, it doesn't seem worth taking chances.
I am thankful that for the next six weeks I will have special education classes that don't include last Friday's students. More about that tomorrow.
One time a year or so ago I had a student sitting in the middle of my class say to me, "You're afraid of us." The way I dealt with it could have been a disaster, but it worked. I approached the student and when I was about three feet away I lowered my face opposite the student's and said, "Not in your wildest dreams. I wasn't afraid of the kids when I worked in Juvenile Hall, and I'm not afraid of you, either."
This past Friday I subbed for a new teacher and had classes of about 34 students. The teacher gave me excellent instructions in writing about the classes -- who which ones would probably be difficult, which students (about two or three per class) I could trust because they were honest, and what needed to be done.
I saw a few familiar students in these classes and I lot I had never met before. I don't remember if I described the very little ninth-grader who still sucked his thumb and who called me a "mother-fucker" a year or so ago. He appeased in one of these classes this past Friday. He still sucks his thumb and he still acts up in class, jumping out of his seat, talking, running around and causing a disturbance. It was interesting to me to see that he still follows the old behavior patterns even though he must now be in tenth grade, and that he seems not to have matured appreciably either emotionally or physically. Also in one of Friday's classes was a very large, very intelligent student I had had in classes when I spent two weeks teaching a physiology class a year or so ago. This student did his work, didn't say much, but was noticeable because of his dress. I am not sure iuf he is trying to give the impression of being a cross between a Nazi naval officer or a policeman, but his garb, very dark blue and covered with pseudo-military accountrments, is striking.
The worst class of the day was the sixth period, where a group of about eight students sitting in the center and back of the class tried to act up, create disturbances, and cheat on their tests. I wrote up one of them and sent him off with security. A few minutes later while my back was briefly turned a voice from that general section of the room said, "You better watch out for your Camry now."
I have started parking my Camry in a disabled space next to an entrance to the school. A great many people come by this spot, so I have no doubt the student had seen me there with my car before. I have reached the point in the deterioration of my hip that while I wait another two months for my hip replacement operation I must take pain killers for walking. Before this, I had parked my cart several blocks away in an area the students don't go -- on the advice of my wife, who used to work for the Berkeley School District. Pain or not, I think I shall go back to parking in that same area. Obviously, even if the car were damaged I would not know which student had done the damage. But pain or no pain, it doesn't seem worth taking chances.
I am thankful that for the next six weeks I will have special education classes that don't include last Friday's students. More about that tomorrow.
Sunday, September 27, 2009
A Troubled Student
The other day in a class I was substitute teacher for a young lady came up to my desk, paused, then turned halfway away and took a few steps, then came back to my desk. I said hello to her and commented that I thought she might want to talk to me, so she should feel free to if that is what she wanted.
She started: "I was a loner last year in eight grade. I'm something of a loner now." She began to cry. Two of the other young ladies in the classroom came up and put their arms around her in a protective way.
I asked her to come around in a slightly more private area, and I said to her that I could tell she was very upset, and that her business was her business, not something other students should hear about. I told her there are several people on the school staff who are advisers, and that she could talk in total confidence to them, and her business would never go beyond the two of them. I asked her if she would like to go down and spoeak to one of them now.
She said she would. I asked the two studfents whop had come up to her to take her to a particularly person in the3 counseling office, and then I called ahead to tell a friend of mine who works there that she was coming, had a really serious problem she needed to talk to someone about privately, and requested that she be allowed to see one of the staff psychologists right away.
I heard later that she did arrive and she was speaking to a psychologist. I have nbo clue what this was about, but I do know she needed help. Thank goodness we have the right kind of staff to be there when a student needs them.
She started: "I was a loner last year in eight grade. I'm something of a loner now." She began to cry. Two of the other young ladies in the classroom came up and put their arms around her in a protective way.
I asked her to come around in a slightly more private area, and I said to her that I could tell she was very upset, and that her business was her business, not something other students should hear about. I told her there are several people on the school staff who are advisers, and that she could talk in total confidence to them, and her business would never go beyond the two of them. I asked her if she would like to go down and spoeak to one of them now.
She said she would. I asked the two studfents whop had come up to her to take her to a particularly person in the3 counseling office, and then I called ahead to tell a friend of mine who works there that she was coming, had a really serious problem she needed to talk to someone about privately, and requested that she be allowed to see one of the staff psychologists right away.
I heard later that she did arrive and she was speaking to a psychologist. I have nbo clue what this was about, but I do know she needed help. Thank goodness we have the right kind of staff to be there when a student needs them.
Saturday, September 26, 2009
Latest Developments
I did very little subbing during the school year 2008 - 2009, and most of that from the beginning of September until the end of October. I went off on my annual trip to Africa (Ivory Coast), came home, wortked a day, and then had an attack of kidney stones that infected my kidneys and almost killed me. I was in intensive care for about a week. I had six operations or "procedures" b etween that time and the end of the school year in early June.
I started subbing again this school year. Several important things have happened since then.
Two or three weeks ago, a young lady who was a senior was walking on a street with a girlfriend and a boyfriend when a car came circling the block three times, then stopped by them and fired 20 shots. The girl who was a student at our school was hit at least ten times, the boy once or twice. The girl was killed right there opn the street.
I did not know here, but it is obvious from her photos that she was a nice, pleasant, well-brought up young lady. The school has been in mourning ever since then, with photos of her and written tributes from her friends posted with them, right at the front door of the school.
We have 2,000 students at our school. To a certain percentage every year, something terrible happens.
We never know what is just around the corner ahead of us, or who it will affect.
I started subbing again this school year. Several important things have happened since then.
Two or three weeks ago, a young lady who was a senior was walking on a street with a girlfriend and a boyfriend when a car came circling the block three times, then stopped by them and fired 20 shots. The girl who was a student at our school was hit at least ten times, the boy once or twice. The girl was killed right there opn the street.
I did not know here, but it is obvious from her photos that she was a nice, pleasant, well-brought up young lady. The school has been in mourning ever since then, with photos of her and written tributes from her friends posted with them, right at the front door of the school.
We have 2,000 students at our school. To a certain percentage every year, something terrible happens.
We never know what is just around the corner ahead of us, or who it will affect.
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