C'mon Dad!

One of my yearbook students, a girl, came to me on Thursday last and asked me what her grade was in the class. I told her that no one was going to get less than a "B" but some students would get an "A" because, for one thing, they did more work than others in the class.

She objected in her usual very calm and composed voice, "That's not fair because we're not all the same."

"Exactly. And because you are not all the same you didn't all do the same amount or quality of work. And therefore you don't all get the same grade." That she knew she was on the "B" list went without saying -- she didn't even have to ask.

She continued to object using the same argument and we went in circles for about a few exchanges until I "had" to go and help some one. The bad thing is that she's a composed loudmouth prima donna in the class so I knew this would circulate amongst the other "B" students.

So I called her pa and asked him to explain to his daughter what my grading criteria for the class was. I told him that some students had put in a great deal of extra time in completing not only their own yearbook page, but extra pages. Some students had stepped up and helped out in ways that others had not, and those students would be rewarded with an "A."

The dad told me, "Well, I'm going to have to talk to my daughter. I have your side of the story but now I need to hear hers."

WHAT?! Do you think I'm lying about something here, sir? I've only asked you to explain to your daughter what my grading criteria is?!

So I said, "There's no dispute here, 'Mr. Jones.' I would only like for you to explain to your daughter what my grading criteria is."

"OK," he said weakly, "I'll talk to her." I could tell be his tone that he had already lost this "battle" with his 14 year old daughter.

"C'mon Mr. Milqetoast! Take charge. Don't let your daughter dictate the terms for your family."

This is the problem with many fathers today: they are not in charge of their family.

So the next day I asked the girl if her father had talked with her. Her answer showed clearly that he had, but it didn't make any difference. She was just as disgruntled as ever and, as far as she was concerned, the battle will rage on the next time I discuss her grade with her. Why? Because that's how it works in her family. She continues to argue with her parents until she gets her way. Her parents are the enablers here.

It's the egalitarianism that I've mentioned in a previous post. Many students don't see themselves as subordinate to their own parents, let alone a teacher. So they argue, pitifully, until their parents fold. It works again and again for them so they continue to do it.

How did we get to this point? How will we get back?

Chico State Robot

A friend of mine from the Latin Mass community invited us to see his group's demonstration of their robot before they go to a competition at the end of May. It was a great show.

Gothic Girl

About a month ago a little 6th Grade student of mine came to me for help with her assignment. I told her what she needed to know and told her to ask a friend if she needed additional help with the concept. I do this because I don't want them to rely solely on me for answers. She then told me that she didn't have any friends. She is cross-eyed and shy, probably as a result of the eyes.

I talked to her about being a friend herself, smiling at others, saying hello, and just generally being a nice person, but it didn't seem to go anywhere with her.

Today this little girl informed me that she was "going Gothic." I asked her why and she said that her friend is Gothic. "Well," I says, "what exactly does that mean?" She told me that she is going to start wearing black and probably dye her hair black, too.

So this poor girl who has no friends has found a friend in a Goth. And what I've learned is that as Goths mature in their Gothhood, many become "Emo." (see 3-11-08 post) And now we're talking about all kinds of antisocial behaviors.

What my little 6th grader needed was a friend, and she found one in a deviant.

Bean In The Nose

I remember the first time I read about a child putting a bean in his nose. It was probably 10 years or so ago. It was an awful tragedy. All I remember was that the boy had to have surgery to remove it, but what struck me most was where in the world he got the idea in the first place. When I was in grade school no one I knew ever mentioned such a thing.

Well this year I am teaching typing using a program called Mavis Beacon Teaches Typing. It is a terrible program from the start but I had my biggest surprise last week when I was observing my students typing the practice lessons. I was walking around the room making sure that everyone was observing good posture, hand position, etc, when I noticed that one student's practice lesson, had the sentence, "My mother was angry with me for hitting my little brother, but what was I supposed to do when he put 10 beans up his nose?"

Terrific! Two lessons here from Mavis in one sentence: hit your little brother when he is endangering his well being, and put beans up your nose.

There's the answer. Even ignoramus Mavis Beacon can't just teach children to type without exposing them to harm. And hers is the top typing program for at least five years running!

Too much...

At the staff meeting today the principal told us that all electrical appliances and such that we are using in our rooms have to be removed post haste. But there was one special exception: space heaters.

Because the school district can't seem to regulate the heat very well and there are many teachers throughout the district who use space heaters, these would be allowed provided that the teacher pay the electrical bill for it! There was a whole resolution in DRAFT form for the principal to read to us, complete with the WHEREAS and WHEREFORE business.

I thought it was a joke, but it wasn't. Someone at the district office actually spent time writing that out. I'll have to put a .pdf of it on this post.

A Great Year of Teaching

For all the complaints I have about student underachievement, I have to say that this is winding down to be one of the best years of teaching I've ever had.

It started some months ago when I decided to start wearing a suit and tie to work. It was this small act that made me recognize that what I do is more important than just conveying information to bodies in my classroom. First of all, I saw that I am a professional. My students also recognized it. At first many students wondered about my new attire. Then, they started to tell me things like, "Nice tie," and "Nice suit." Students who I've never had in class started to say hello to me and call me by name.

I guess the next thing that changed is that I started to feel for these kids who I was learning had these terrible problems at home, and I formerly had always made it a point to distance myself from that aspect of my interaction with students. I realized that just saying hello to them and calling them by name had a terrific effect on them (and me). Yes, it helps that I know what the heck I'm doing when it comes to what I teach. But I really engaged myself in their accomplishment of the work I assigned to them. Being interested in them, in what they do right and complimenting them again and again has just paid dividends that I never imagined.

Sure, I've been laid off and don't have a job there next year, but what does that have to do with it? These students are mine for 55 minutes a day, and I might be the only bright spot in their day. Could I really do less than my best for them and still consider myself a good Catholic? Would God really accept my argument that because I've been released by the district I have a right to be bitter?

Giving Perspective

I was talking to my 7th graders today while they were doing their warm up typing. I told them how important it is for them to drink plenty of water, especially now that it's getting warmer and they are losing more water due to perspiration. I told them they should drink eight eight ounce glasses of water a day. To give them perspective I tried to relate this to a gallon because I'm pretty sure they've all seen a one gallon milk container.

I began by asking what 8 X 8 equals. Silence.

"OK," I said, "Anybody, what's eight times eight?"

The first two guesses: "Twenty?" "One hundred?" Oh, boy.

Finally, a bright eyed and proud girl gushed, "Sixty-four!" My, I couldn't help but give her a warm smile and say, "Right!"

I was encouraged so I pressed on. "What part of a gallon is 64 ounces?" I should have known better.

"OK. How many ounces are in a gallon?" Silence again. Then the guesses poured in.

"Twenty."

"No."

"One hundred."

"Close. OK, it's 128. Now, what part of 128 is 64?" I might as well have been speaking Urdu.

So to ease the tension I tried again. "What's half of 128?" Blank stares...or was it just their awe of me? Maybe they think I'm a genius.

Well, my attempt at giving them perspective failed. As a teacher, I've been taught to reflect on my teaching. Where are the gaps? How is my delivery or method not working? If my students don't understand something, what am I doing wrong?

Well, I guess it's true. I must have failed as a teacher. The fact that my 7th graders don't know how many ounces are in a gallon has nothing to do with it. Just because they don't know what half of 128 is beside the point. If I try to point out the student deficiencies to a college education professor, then HRH will inform me that I am sidestepping the real issue: the deficiency of my teaching.

So, how should it have been taught? Maybe I should have brought in eight eight ounce glasses of water and told them to drink this much every day.