And excuse me? WHERE WERE YOU!?

The ice storm hit St. Charles pretty badly, while St. Louis apparently wasn't so much as touched. As a result, I missed work on Monday, and the two subs I called already had work. My kids were split up among the team as a result.

I caught hell from the kids the very next day.

"Excuse me, Miss Franklin, but where were you yesterday? We had to go to Mrs. Stanley (computers)/Walker (health)/Wayne (librarian)/Dobrivichkova (music)/YAY FOR GOING TO JOHNSON (aka gym), LEAVE AGAIN PLEASE."

"I do not like Mr. Walker/Ms. Wayne/Stanley (etc.), so why did you write down that we had to go there?"

"Um, Ms. Franklin? I missed you yesterday."

"You got to take a day off yesterday, so today we get off too, right? So, where are the Uno cards?"

"Wait... wait... you live in St. Charles!? WHY DO YOU COME OUT HERE TO TEACH!? Don't they have schools there? How far away is it? FOURTY-FIVE MILES!? What are you, nuts?"

Yes, I might be nuts, but I'm not nutty enough to have driven here when I couldn't even get out of my own driveway. I literally had to explain to every single class of my little learners as to why I was not here, and describe in detail how I had slipped and fallen on the ice three separate times at 5 a.m. just trying to get to my car. They listened patiently, probably thinking happily, "Yesss, yessss Misss Frankle, keep talking about your missssshapsss and tumblessss... keep usss from learning about main idea and detailssss..."

Yes, they are hissing like snakes. Because they are sneaky and don't like to learn. I overheard one of my students saying, "I love Ms. Frankleen's class." And when my heart was filled with warm butterflies and happy thoughts, elated by the love I was receiving by a student who apparently likes my class, it was crushed by the snort and response of another girl who I don't have as a student, "Probably because you said you don't do anything in that class."

heart. crushed. smooshed. like a little, sad bug.

How could she say that!!! Apparently I am going to be forever plagued with students thinking they do nothing in my class. Which perhaps should make me re-think if whether we do... do things in this class. Which, if my planner is correct, we do do things. Perhaps just not very well.

When I confronted the girl about it, she exclaimed, "What!? I never said that about your class. She was just saying that! I love this class! I promise! We do stuff! I just did the journal that listed five things about me, and then I did Read180 on the computer! We do stuff!"

Right now, I'm having kids alternate between the rBook, which we are learning about Main Idea and Details through the theme of immigrants, the computers where they work on the Read180 software that is now up and running, and the reading center which is apparently also a napping center.

Gah. I hope that classroom management happens like a swish of magic after Christmas break, because I'm in dire need of some serious classroom management with my little lower-level-learning hellions.

YAY ONLY 7 MORE DAYS LEFT UNTIL CHRISTMAS BREAK BEGINS!!!

(And for anyone curious, my mole was really agitated so I had to wear a bandaid over it for a week, and then I apparently broke out in an allergic reaction to the bandaid so it's still healing. I'll take that over the mole having to be removed or it being infected!!)

Really, doctor, I'm positive that I'm not insane. It's the kids. THE KIDS.

We finally got Read180 functioning, and yesterday and today I've been having my students take the Scholastic Reading Inventory (SRI). I'm not the only class that they're testing in, so needless to say, they've been rather crazy. There are a large chunk of my students that I'm going to call their parents. It is just unacceptable for them to be this silly and distracted.

My third hour has been psycho ever since Friday... and Friday was a bad day. Students were screaming obscenities at one another, throwing pencils, pens, calling each other nappy-headed, the n-word, grabbing each other's hair and pulling... I still get tears in my eyes just remembering it, and a tight feeling in my chest. I called the security guard, and while she was there they were okay, but then she left and it was pandemonium again. Friday, I cried after my third hour ended, huddled down into my tiny bathroom, sobbing on the floor. I calmed down enough to walk to Ashley Crawford's room on the other side of the freaking school (I brought my own toilet paper in case she didn't have tissues), but then I just broke down again; all I'd wanted to do was just talk about it, not cry anymore. She called Laurencia, who then came and took over for me during 5th hour (because they're generally crazy as well). It was bad, and as a result that class is still un-tamable. Even Laurencia is having a hard time getting them to listen to her, and that's near impossible not to do because she's just one of those people you listen to.

Anyhow, I'm doing my best to take things a day at a time, and to be as positive as I possibly can be. And I'm so damned grateful that Laurencia is back from her health sabbatical (doctor imposed), because she's got me functioning like a normal human being now that she's back. It makes me want to call up Jesus and say, "Now, I know that Laurencia is human, but right now she's practically a saint. Without that whole martyrdom-thing-that-most-saints-have-to-experience, can she be sainted? Cause... she deserves it."

I have a mole that's been killing me; it's burning like crazy. I'm gonna go and see my doctor tonight about it.

THIRTEEN DAYS UNTIL CHRISTMAS BREAK!!!

I DISLIKE YOU VERY MUCH, READ180 PROGRAM

FOR THE LIFE OF ME, I cannot figure out why I can't get Read180 to work for me!!! This is by far one of the most frustrating programs to work with!!!

Today I'm just going to have them do either Rosetta Stone or Study Island. They can just play with that all week until I figure out what in the heck is wrong with this stupid program.

If those guys installed it wrong, I'm going to shake my tiny fist of fury at them so hard their CHILDREN'S CHILDREN are going to feel it!!!

RAWR!!

Shauna.

Mistakes abound

I know that as a first teacher, I'm going to make mistakes. I'm not sure if today was one, but boy... I feel like I just jumped headfirst into the deep end.

I had to call security for the first time this semester. I know there were plenty of times where I should have done it, but I am a firm believer in people changing themselves... even though that's the last thing I need to believe in right now.

Deonte, Peaire, Poncey, Alyse... they were all horrible today. They came into my room ranting about how it's a free day and they should get to play on the computer the whole hour. When I informed them that they did not deserve a free day due to their behavior on Thursday, they completely mutinied. It should also be mentioned that Walker's students were in my room today due to him not calling a sub (suprise-surprise, huh?), and Deonte decided to egg them on as well by trying to say that if you slapped a girl, they wouldn't be knocked out; Peaire and Deonte decided to ask one of my old students, Amanda, if she could come over there and be slapped. She said firmly back, "You best be turnin' around and mindin' your own business." Of course, since Deonte has absolutely no control over himself, he muttered something under his breath. Amanda, though, was smart enough to ignore it. I loved her all the more for it.

Poncey wanted a pen to write, but I wouldn't give him one until he asked politely. Alyse was pissed that I wouldn't give her a pencil that she kicked across the floor. I've got a lot of parents to call tonight.

Poncey got so incensed that he walked over to my desk and knocked my egg timer off the desk. That's when I called security. You do not destroy my shit, no matter how ticked off you are at me because you refuse to be polite and ask for a pen in a nice manner.

Mrs. Brown came down to my room and set them straight just by sitting in my room and watching. Now, why in the hell can I not have that power!?

After they left, Brown and I had a heart-to-heart. She told me that she'd come down and have a behavior plan for that class. I mean, my other classes are rambunctious and mischevious, but they do not insubordinate the way they have been. I was so pissed off at that classroom. And Mr. Walker's kids were the best-behaved out of the whole damned bunch!

Sigh. Is it awful that I think that some people shouldn't have children if they can't seem to control the little shits that pop out of their bodies? I almost want them to be released--like in The Giver. If you've read that book, you know what I mean, if not... then you'd have a very different idea of what I want.

I wish that two of those boys would just go to a different school. My life would be so much easier.

Gimme just a little more time, and our love will surely grow

Today one of my students, Prince, remarked, after I announced that there was a minute before the bell was to ring, "Wow. Class is over already? This class always goes by so fast."

When something goes by quickly, it means you're enjoying it, correct?

I still have my share of issues. Not all of my students are showing up, so my numbers--other than my second and third hours--are relatively low. And a lot of my students are incredibly hard to work with due to their behavior issues and low functioning. But I think I'm getting to know some of my tougher students better, and I'm doing my best to appeal to the ones that are quiet and do everything I've ever asked of them (I always want to say to them, "I'm so sorry that you're so awesome and your classmates are like zoo animals out of their cages.")

If I don't have grey hair and look aged thirty years by the end of this year, I'm going to mark it as a success.

Random, non-learning-related quotes from the semester.

Quotes only for my benefit because they were adorable; for the most part they have absolutely nothing to do about learning.

"Miss Franklin, this is my favorite class. Well, yours and Miss Filkin's class. No really! For real. It's just so nice down here. I have so much fun in this class." --Emina 6th; Tammesha and Maria chimed in that this was their favorite class as well, besides Mr. Walker's class.

"Miss Franklin, you're so nice. You, be mean? I don't think I've ever seen you be mean. I like you. You're just so nice." --Donta, 7th.

"Can I have an eraser as a goodbye? Cause this is my last day in this class. I want to remember it." --Deavon, 6th.

After getting mad at my 6th hour, I sat down and was silent; my arms were crossed and I had a stern, unhappy expression on my face. "You're wasting my time by talking, so I'm going to waste your time for learning. Let me know when you're ready and I'll teach." I read fanfiction while I waited for them to be ready to learn. Suddenly, the class quieted down from their discussion about teachers' first names and I heard several soft, "I'm sorry, Miss Franklin." Omida (6th), Brandon (7th), and Veli (7th).

"I like you teacher." Danijel, 7th.

After asking my 8th hour if they really hadn't learned anything in here, Kevon (7th) replied, "I learned how to look stuff up on the computer. And we learned lots in here."
I then informed them that several other students had said they hadn't learned anything, and both Kevon and James (7th) gasped and said, "WHO SAID THAT!?" James shook his head and muttered to himself, "We learned lotsa crap in here. They be trippin."

"Don't talk to strangers," Damir (8th) stated to Sierra (6th), whom I happened to be talking with at that moment. Sierra gave him a strange look and said, "She's not a stranger, she's our teacher." Damir turned back to his project and muttered, "Teachers are strangers; do you know anything about her?" Sierra then countered, "Do your parents tell you not to talk to your teachers!?"

"Have you heard from the poetry contest people yet? I'm pretty positive that I won. My poems were awesome." Seth (6th) and Nickolas (7th), who are in different classes, during various times of the quarter. I had the students write three poems for a poetry contest.

Just knife me in the heart, why dontcha.

So, I've been having my students working on the computers with who, what, when, where, why, how questions that I have literally hand-written for each students' needs, based on what their Read 180 book is about. If that's not modifying a lesson to accommodated each of their needs, I don't know what is! The students then go to http://www.google.com/ and they search for their specific subject. Subjects range from how to make chocolate, who is the founder of Halloween, who climbed Mount Everest and survived, what is the history of baseball, what is the most haunted house, who is your favorite band and what is their biography--it's all based on what book they are reading. They each have six questions to answer.

For example, I have several students reading the book, The Band. I sat down with each student and wrote out questions that were based on their reading levels. For Kasim, I made sure that the questions were fairly simple and short. "Who is your favorite band?" It sounds so simple, but it took him forever just to figure that one out and how to google it. Not to mention he was just screwing around on the internet by typing gibberish into the search line and then telling me he couldn't find anything. That boy absolutely infuriates me sometimes, and no, I didn't help him because he chose to waste my time. Anyhow. For another student who is more proficient, I wrote it in a different manner; "Who is your favorite band? Who are the members within that band (real names)?" Obviously it doesn't seem like that much of a difference, but the added sentence bogged down his time and he had to search within the text a little more.

I'm also having the students work on Responsibility posters. I'm pretty sick of the posters to be honest. However, Emina made me this really cute poster with my name on it, and it completely warmed my heart.

Speaking of my heart, it was crushed today! It's the last day of first quarter, and I posed the following question for the warm-up: "Think back on all of the things we have done this quarter. What do you think you learned the most about? Reflection should be 5-6 sentences."

Third hour had no problem with this. They wrote about our Alliteration sentences, the Donner Party project, the DOL, the posters we've done about respect and responsibility (and therefore what they've learned about those two words), about the centers...

And then fifth, six, and seventh hour came along. "Miss Franklin," Omida stated. "I didn't learn anything. All we did were projects."

O.O

It's true. For the most part, all we did were projects; there were no specific units of study because I don't have a textbook to follow and I'm pretty much just going by what I think they'd enjoy learning about. But they didn't learn anything from them? At all!? Just because I didn't do what the teachers upstairs were doing--for example, what Ashley's doing with her How to Write a Friendly Letter, which looked amazing and I wanted to steal it for myself for use later in life--doesn't mean I wasn't having them learn anything.

I posed my sad question to Sierra who had come up to my desk while I was writing this entry.

"Did you really not learn anything at all in this class?" I asked, saddened by this new, incredibly embarrassing knowledge.

Sierra frowned and said, "Yeah, we learned a lot in this class. We learned.... well, I can't think of anything but math right now, but we did learn a lot."

They don't even consider what they're doing with this research project learning!

So... my sincere, bottomless, completely wrong and stupid hope is that the projects were so much fun and so effortless for them that they learned things without even realizing that that's what they were doing.

Have the past nine weeks been completely useless and dumb? Oh my gosh. I'm so sad right now.

A nice off day

I truly wish I had more days like today. I've done nothing but laugh and feel warmth from my students, not that half of them or here or anything.

It's a Muslim holiday, so a lot of them are missing today. Some of my little Bosnians and Russians showed up today, but a mass majority didn't.

It's not that I'm glad those students are gone. Many of the students absent today are ones that I really have fun with normally. But it's just that today is very relaxed. The students here are literally just a blast today. Deavon, who is reading my Harry Potter books, is curled up in my little nook with the pillows (at this very moment), and at one point had made a little fort, calling out names of kids and making them curious as to where he could be; Brandon turned around, looked at me, then turned around again and muttered, "Where on earth is he? I know he said my name...". I burst out laughing when I noticed what he had done; it was just too cute! There have been moments like this all day so far, and it's really refreshing.

Sanela, a girl that I normally have a lot of issues with, stayed with me for two whole hours today, cleaning my desk, taking roll, going outside the classroom and taking down all of the old projects, cleaning out the file cabinet, and even going through the Respect posters and writing down the names of those who had done them. She was beyond helpful, and I think we had a good connection today as a result. She left after 3rd hour to go celebrate the holiday with her family.

Lauren's been very chipper around me since my talk with her a few weeks ago. Everytime she sees me her face lights up with a smile and she makes it a point to stop in front of me and say, "Hi Miss Franklin! Are you having a good day today?" Her classwork leaves much to be desired, but it's okay since I know that she's a resource student; she's going to have some trouble with what I'm asking of her in the hour she has me, and I've been doing my best to modify her lessons. For example, she is to create a board game for her book report, and instead of creating 20 facts I allowed for 10, and I also informed her of a way in which she could make the board, watching as she attempted to follow my directions. She seems to be doing very well right now, and I'm pleased with her.

I have oldies music playing right now on the radio, and the kids for the most part ignore it placidly, and sometimes they break out in silly song voices. It's really funny and adorable.

Was I right?

I'm unsure if whether I did the right thing or not. I mean, I've been in her shoes--I've been in that spot where you think that no one cares about you, and that no one sees that you're in pain; you don't do your work because you don't care anymore, and you're bad to yourself because you don't care anymore. At Lauren's age, I didn't do drugs like she does, apparently. I didn't smoke. But mentally, I understand where she's at.

One of my sixth graders got in a fight today with another girl. Now, I wasn't there, but I heard second hand from another teacher that apparently it stemmed from the question that Lauren asked another girl: "Do you smoke weed?" Somehow, the conversation escalated to the point of both girls shoving one another and ending up in a fight later in the day. Lauren's getting suspended and the other girl is getting ISS for fighting back, since Lauren started with the shoving.

Lauren's background tells me something of her mental state at the moment: her mother and father both left her, so she's living with her grandma who apparently has a very hard time taking care of her. Lauren's in the quiet rebellion stage; she's not flamboyant or loud in class, and she's the opposite from disruptive by barely speaking up at all. She's one of my best students, actually.

So, when I was leaving today, I saw that Lauren still had no one to pick her up. The other girls' parents had showed up, talked to the teachers, vice principal, and a translator, and had left. An hour after school ended, she was still in the building waiting for someone to take her home.

I didn't take her home. I thought about it for a moment, but cancelled that idea. Too much of a liability--what if I got hit and she sued me? I could legally be sued for something like that. So I did the next best thing that I could think of.

"Having a bad day?" I asked her, as I passed by her. Her eyes were still bloodshot from crying after being chewed out by the various people that had done so.

Lauren nodded and her eyes flamed red. "Yeah, something like that."

She looked me in the eyes for a moment, then glanced away. "I got suspended."

"I know," I nodded, and Lauren looked at me, surprised for a moment, and then looked away. She nodded and said, "Oh."

I looked at her for a moment longer and then said, "Do you need a hug?"

Lauren's eyes shot to mine and filled with surprised tears. Her face scrunched up and she looked undecisive for a moment. Then she sobbed out, "Yes," and threw herself into my arms.

I was taken a little by surprise myself; I had expected her to say no, or be more timid about it. She hugged me very tightly, crying slightly.

"You know, everyone has bad days, and that's okay. Today was just a really bad day."

Lauren nodded and pulled away, wiping her eyes. "Yeah."

I smiled at her. "But when you come back, it's going to be all right. You're going to have better days. You're not a bad kid, Lauren. I truly like you, and I believe that you have some real good in you."

Lauren smiled back and nodded, her eyes darting away from mine as she blushed.

"If you ever need me for anything, you can always come talk to me, Lauren. Just call me or something--"

"I don't have your number," she laughed. She put her hands in her pocket.

And here's where I'm unsure if I did the right thing. I stalled for a moment before finally asking,

"Would you like my number?"

Her face lit up. "Really? Okay. Yeah."

I gave it to her (again, surprised, thinking she'd say no), as well as a 100 calorie pack of cheetos since she hadn't eaten since 10 a.m. for 6th grade lunch (hell, I was hungry!), and another hug.

I left her with the words of contacting me if she needed me, and she was giggling a little when I left, seemingly cheered a little. No one had gotten her by the time I left. I don't know how long she stayed up there.

While it wasn't right that she had gotten physical with someone today, she's still just a kid and needed that assurance that it was okay to have bad days. It's okay to not be perfect all the time, and that they'll still be loved after bad decisions.

It's good to know that someone loves them. I wanted her to know that I love her, flaws and all. I hope all my students know that.

I was terrified.

So, I'm pretty sure I've got a target painted on my shirt at all times. It says, "Morons of the world, please converge in this general area."

Yesterday was Professional Development for teachers at Long, so the students didn't have school but I still had to be there. Lunch was from eleven to noon, so I went to Applebees with some of the Teach for America crew. I got there last.

I saw Jenny V. walk around the corner of Applebees and parked next to her. As I was pulling into the spot that was next to hers, I noticed that a man was almost walking into the spot I was going to park into. I slowed down so he could walk past, but instead he stopped by Jenny's car and let me park.

When I looked up as I opened my car door, he was standing next to Jenny's driver-side door staring at me. As soon as I opened my door he said to me, "You look very nice today." It was as if we'd had this conversation every day of our lives, and he was here meeting me for lunch. I frowned slightly out of confusion, and embarrassment at the compliment, and then smiled. "Thank you."

I leaned over and got my purse, wondering if whether I was wrong and that it hadn't been Jenny's car that I had parked next to after all. I felt creeped out; when I looked over to get out of my car, he was smiling at me with a strange, vacant smile. His eyes watched my every motion, and they were watery as if he was about to start crying at any time. I shut my door slowly and began to walk to the front of my car. He followed.

He was next to me before I even realized he had gotten that close. He had on a heavy, forest green Six Flags collared shirt. It was untucked, and he had a white shirt or towel in his hand. He had on black pants. Up close, his face looked even more vacant of emotion--it was as if there was nothing inside of him; his eyes were watery and staring directly into mine, never once leaving my face, and truth be told, I was too scared to take my eyes off of his.

"Where are you going? Why are you leaving me? Where are you going?"

I froze. He stepped even closer. He was practically touching me. "I'm meeting some friends for lunch."

He seemed to get very upset at this information, and his face screwed up and showed some emotion for the first time. "Why are you leaving me? How can we stay in touch? Can I get your number? I want to call you tomorrow, ask you how your day was, to see how you're doing. I want to talk to you again. I want to make sure we stay in touch; we can stay friends. What's your number?"

My mind literally searched for answers as he got even closer to me. If I had leaned forward slightly, my nose would have touched his chin. I was feeling the flighty part of me begging to run, but I was too terrified to move. He seemed ready to do whatever it took to keep me there, and out of my peripheral vision I could see his hands twisting around the white fabric in his hands. Why did Jenny have to walk around the corner!?

"I'm sorry. I'm engaged," I finally blurted.

A strange expression flickered across his face; I cannot even begin to describe it. If it's possible, his eyes filled with even more liquid, and he slowly leaned back. He took one step backwards, then another.

"Well," he said, "have a nice day."

I felt as if a line had been lifted, and I knew then that if I didn't get away then, I wouldn't get the chance later. I immediately turned around, ducked my head, and walked swiftly away. I peeked back once and saw him staring at me, his face twisted into an angry frown, walking the length of my car. I clicked lock on my keychain and made my car beep twice. Then I practically bolted into Applebees. I shook for a good long time.

I had pepper spray/tear gas in my purse, but it wasn't until later that someone suggested that I should have pretended to be looking for my phone and have gotten that out; I don't think that "Excuse me while I look for my mace" would have worked. But... he just seemed so unstable that I'm positive that I would have lost that fight. Especially with how close he was to me. He would have seen the contents of my purse in no time.

I'm desperately thinking about taking self-defense courses. That was too close to comfort.

I guess they like me now

So yesterday, I got my first "because you're my teacher."

I asked a student of mine to tuck in his shirt in the hall, which is part of their uniform policy. He smiled at me and had the gall to look bashful. Then he said, in broken English (he's been in the US for a little over a year from either Bosnia or Russia), "I do it for you. Not Mrs. Blue. She ask me to tuck in but I no do that. I tuck in for you."

I stared at him for a moment and said, "Did Mrs. Blue, our principal, who can give you ISS for something like this, ask you to tuck in your shirt? Why didn't you do it?"

Sevdar shrugged and said, "She no my teacher. You my teacher. I do it for you."

I've had him all of two days! I guess he feels pretty comfortable around me now. I don't know. It just shocked me.

And I got my first poem today as well! A 6th grader named Emina wrote a poem about me which had me blushing profusely and being all bashful and whatnot. When she turns in the final copy I'll put it here. It's unbelievable! (Literally. I'm no where near what she wrote.)

And I've noticed that kids I have no clue who are are saying Hi to be in the halls now. One girl in particular starts blushing and her shoulders hunch up, and she smiles silly and says, "Hiiii Ms. Franklin...." It took me forever to figure out who she was, until I remembered that I had coerced her to get 7 hours of sleep by saying to her, "Now, I know you don't know me (I'm Ms. Franklin), and I don't know you, but you're looking awfully tired. Are you feeling okay? No? Okay, so promise me that you're going to get at the very least 7 hours of sleep tonight. In the morning, stop in my room and say, 'Hi Ms. Franklin! I'm feeling refreshed and awake today!'" She had giggled and whatnot, and never showed up. But I guess I had made quite the impression because she now says hi to me all the freaking time!

And I've noticed that they're sort of... territorial. Such as, if I'm approached by another teacher, they all tense up and crowd around me as if to show their support. For example, during the various fire drills we've had, they ran off into the enclosed area outside to talk to their friends from other classes. I didn't mind; I could see them at all times and knew where they were. Plus, someone was blocking the exits. Well, when my mentor came over to make sure I had everyone, they all materialized out of no where and stood right next to me, making sure I didn't get in trouble. It's bizzare! I love it!

To blog or not to blog, that is the question...

So, I'm having my students work on a poetry contest for www.weeklyreader.com. Some are really into it, while others are feeling rather... uninterested?

"Do I really have to write poetry? I have some poems at home I can use. I just can't think straight. I can't think at all." (Seth, 6th)

"Can we write about Long Middle School?" (Ibro, 6th)

"Can we write about the Where I'm From poems?" (Deavon and Omida, 6th)


I'm thinking though... do I want to start up blogging with the students? I mean, I don't have Read180 or Achieve3000, and I highly doubt I'm going to get either of those programs for a long while. So, should I have them blog as a way to increase their technical skills? Some of them are so bad with the computer that they hardly know their way around the internet ("What's address bar? And how do I do the picture thing again?" (Kevon, 8th), while others are breaking through the firewall and downloading porn onto the desktop. It's mind-boggling!

Almost all of them don't have email addresses that I know of, and that means that I'd have to create an email for each one of them. So... would it be worth it?

Starting to get a litte more than just frustrated...

So, I'm starting to get a lot more annoyed that the Read180 program isn't up and running yet. I've had no help regarding on how to start it up on the computer, if the students have to have names to get on, what on earth are the cds for?, and how do I get the results from SRI? What does the program look like? Once I log onto the computers that are supposed to be within the program, what then? What do I click? WHAT WHAT WHAT!?

Laurencia looked ill today when I saw her for the five seconds that I did; she hadn't stopped by or anything other than to tell me that she had something for the related arts team. I can't help but wonder if she's running herself ragged, and I kinda want to shake her and say, "You're here for me and Ashley!! I'm going to be selfish soon just so that you will Quit Killing Yourself!" Also, I kinda want to shake her so that she'll spill information about Read180 out of her ears from her brain, allowing me to know what I'm supposed to do and how to implement it.

Anyhow, right now I'm having the students finish up their Donner Projects and continue reading the book. Also, they've started up on a poetry contest in which they can win $100, a medal, and a publication in Readers Weekly magazine. Of course they griped about having to write poetry, until they learned about the prize! Some of their work really surprised me. When they finish, I'll definitely post some for posterity (and for my final 40 page paper's!) sake.

I learned that I was going to have to start taking pictures and video of the students, and so I began to take some pictures today of students reading and writing. The students were, of course, very self-concious and stared glossy-eyed at their books or papers while I took some photos. Once I had done so, it was like a collective sigh of relief from each student: "Oh good. She's finished. Now I can actually concentrate on not reading instead of looking like I'm reading." One boy, Danijel, freaked out because he was in the reflection center.

"Ms. Frankle! Ms. Frankle! Take my picture! Why don't chu take my picture??" Danijel posed, making a sideways peace sign, his lips puckered and head tilted back. I turned away from him, tucking my camera away into the little black purse-turned-camera-bag. "Until I see that you're actually attempting the assignment, I'm not going to be taking any pictures of you." Unfortunately, he never got on-task enough to get his picture taken.

Within the same class, a lovely 6th grader--Omida--turned in a paper titled "Ramadan." She had asked me exhuberantly on Friday afternoon, "Ms. Frankleen can I do an extra credit paper on my favorite cultural holiday? I'll have it for you by Monday, I promise!" I was so shocked that she asked, and was even more shocked by the quality of work that she turned in. I decided to make a poster of it and put it out into the hallway for other students to see. I'll take a picture of it tomorrow. She even put the font in fancy, hard-to-read script! Now that took some thinking. : )

"Ms. FrankIN? Can I call you Ms. FrankINstein?"

It's rather humorous and borderline annoying that the students can't seem to get my name right. I've had the following:

Frankin
Frannkleen
Ms... Ms....
Teacher?
Filkin
Filklin
etc.

Never my real name, which is odd. If they're having trouble with my name this year, how are they going to get Devenport next year?

Anyhow, I've had quite the success with my Donner Party Scrapbook Project. I've helped the kids out a little, printing out color pictures and helping them with their spelling and whatnot; I just want them to be proud of their work. And while, yes, a lot of them rushed straight through it so they could play today, much of their work went above and beyond my expectations.

With the Read180 program, the students are at Level 1 at the moment, and we're reading a very, very simplified version of what happened to the Donners, and how they ended up eating the dead in order to survive their entrapment in the mountains. However, I would change something before beginning this scrapbooking project again: reading the book half-way through and having them do the project made them a little more confused than if we were to have read the whole way through. That was my bad; I should have been smarter about it before jumping into a very extensive project where the students needed to know the information about the Donners (not that half of them would have picked up on the fact that they ate the dead; it's like a line out of the whole book). I'm sure that reading this, you are thinking, "Umm... what were you thinking? Of COURSE they would need the whole story!" I was just too pumped about the project to think that far ahead, of course. But, the students loved it!

"Ms. Filklin, do you think it would be cool if I made the history of the Donner Party into a little booklet of my own? I'll even color the pages and everything!" (Maria, 6th)

"Will I get extra credit if I include CPR and Hypothermia together?" (Seth, 6th)

"What? They eated people? Now why would they do that?" (Dzenaijla, 8th).

One eighth grade boy, Damir, chose to be the Pictoralist, and called me over to him while he was looking at pictures that people had painted of the Western landscape. "Ms... Ms.. Fran..k. C'mere. There's a UFO in this picture. Fer real. A UFO."

I walked over and saw that he had the mouse held down over the picture, making it so that there was a circle with a line in the middle (think No Smoking signs). "Ah. See? I knew they existed! X-Files was RIGHT."

Damir giggled and said, "Naw, man, they don't exist. That's fake. See? This one's the real thing. See the dot? That's a UFO."

It was a tiny black speck on the painting. "Oh man, I was so fooled."

"Man! Ms. Frank! UFOs don't exist!"

Later today, when he and Juan turned in their work for the pictoralist, he stood expectantly, staring at me. I looked up at him and said, "Yes?"

"You gonna look at my pictures or what?" He giggled and looked over at Juan, and wouldn't meet my eyes.

I looked down and was completely shocked at the quality of their work; they had put a lot into the pictures, and I was about to praise him and Juan when I noticed something odd in the corner of each picture: A single UFO. In every picture. It was hilarious! I laughed pretty hard, and Damir and Juan got a big kick out of it as well. It felt like a great bonding moment, considering I've had some trouble with them in the past.

Damir is also teaching me Bosnian. He taught me, after I replied with a "thank you" to him, that in Bosnian you say Hfala (Heefahlah). I put it on the word wall, and a lot of the Bosnians questioned me on if whether I knew Bosnian. I gladly let them know that Damir took all the credit, and he blushed heavily and said, "Naw. Naw man. Naw."

Changing my outlook

Things weren't going so well in my head, for a long time. I don't know how else to put it; I was exhausting myself looking through each student's eyes and wondering, "Why are you being so... not what I want you to be?" It's hard for me to admit that. Hard for me to admit that I was attempting to shape the children into what I wanted them to be, instead of what they wanted to be. I sound so selfish, so narcissistic. And in a sense, I am supposed to shape them to my expectations, but not to the point where I'm forcing them to be something they're not.

I needed a change, and fast. What could I do to change their behavior, to make them listen instead of rebuke me at every shot? I had more bad days than good days, and it was a chore to get worked up over wanting to be in the classroom. I told myself that it was just because it was the first of the school year, not because of me.

But it was me. It was me.

Now, I don't blame every iota of my problems in the classroom on myself; some of my students are ultimately the most naughty children I've ever laid my eyes on, and they have attitudes the size of their pint-sized bodies and aren't afraid to throw it around like they just didn't care (and still don't care!). They are devious, mischevious, and down-right mean to one another and disrespectful to me.

But that was the crux. They are children. Here I was, treating them as if they were my peers learning with me, throwing information at them that they had a hard time comprehending. Some of that comprehension-issue stems from the fact that I am dealing with a large majority of lower-leveled students, but hell, practically 85% of our school is comprised of lower-level students, so why should that matter? The other side was that I wasn't asking the right things of them. I wasn't being specific enough. They didn't know that I wanted them to write more than 2 words on their warm-up, because I never specified that I wanted more from them. Laurencia keyed me into that small glitch, and I'm still working hard on correcting that mistake.

Something I needed to change was, and still is, my teaching style. At the beginning of the year, I told myself that I would take no crap, no talking out of turn without a hand raised, silence is golden during reading time or when I'm talking, blah blah blah... I had all of these invisible rules that I was holding the children accountable for, while forcing myself to follow them, even when the rules were so out of synch with the classroom, my students, and myself. I got frustrated, and angry, especially with the students. Why didn't they know what I wanted from them? Couldn't they just tell? Hell no, they couldn't tell! I had to tell them my expectations in order for them to be met.

Everyday is different, I'll say that much. Good days are starting to hold a little sway over the bad days, but there are still moments where I wonder, "Why did I choose this profession? Am I masochistic? Do I like being hurt on a daily basis?" Then I think of a warm moment, where I shared a silly, stupid, wonderful joke with a student over the material--or not over the matierial--and I remember that I really do like kids. Perhaps it makes me masochistic. Perhaps that makes me human.

And I'm still pretty lost. I feel like, even though Laurencia is literally working her tail off for me on this Read180 program and trying to help me get it set up and working, that I'm still grasping for straws on what to teach, how to teach it, and if I'm being effective in what I'm attempting to have them do. It could just be because I'm a first-year teacher. It could also be that I'm not prepared enough to teach the material because I don't know the material. Or it just could be that I'm not getting it. But regardless, the dim, pin-point of a light at the end of the tunnel holds some hope for me, and I'm damned proud of the fact that I've made it through the first three and a half weeks with my psyche still intact.

I will say this though: I've lost some weight. Two or so pounds, but it's made a difference in how my clothes hang.

Hmm...

You know you've been in teacher meetings too long when you see an Altima GLE and think of Grade Level Expectations.

Is it Ten O'Clock yet?

Is it fair that it's only 8:00 and I'm pretty much ready for bed?

I'm so exhausted all the time. Physically, emotionally, spiritually--like the children come in the mornings and suck every living particle out of me until there is nothing left but a headache and some potentially potent illness-inducing germs.

And I'm lost. The first week was harried and out of whack--I literally found that every day was completely different with a completely different set of kids; we're not block scheduling. The half-days Wednesday on through Friday due to heat didn't help at all. Instead, the staff and students were all watching the clock for 10:50 a.m., and by Friday it felt that 10:50 a.m. took 6 hours to get there. And the kids took advantage of the crazy schedule, acting out and being rather outlandish.

I'm pretty positive that I slept over 30 hours this weekend while visiting Andrew in Rolla. The poor boy didn't have a chance to even hang out with me, unless it was napping with me in-between wake times.

And I'm lost. I'm lost because they keep adding and removing kids, sometimes I have 14, sometimes just one shows up. And I have no clue what to teach because I'm supposed to be teaching Achieve 3000 and Read 180 but no one has taught me anything about those programs, and I've been unable to make any headway with my questions regarding both programs; my poor mentor is being worked to death by the administrators to get the schedules up to par so that there's no more crazy schedules for the children, and she's been busy busy busy due to that. She's hopefully going to meet up with me tomorrow and get me some information regarding Read 180 so that I can at least begin that program. The kids can tell that I'm grasping at straws (I'm having them work on a concept map to map out their summer, so that they can use the ladder of abstraction to get to the juicy details... the only problem is that I'm working with kids with 3rd grade-below reading levels and half can't read or write!). I graduated with a degree in secondary education, English, and I've taken the middle school praxis--no one prepared me for students who couldn't read at the level they're supposed to be reading, damnit! I needed more classes in Special Education and elementary education!!

I hate hate hate being negative.

There are kids so wonderful that I'm left laughing all day from their antics. Goofing out and being silly, wonderful, beautiful children, and giving me hope that not all the kids I work with are hyper-sexualized little beings whose parents sell them off at the age of 14. (The Gypsy's parents sell off their daughters)

And then there are those that leave me pulling out my hair, wondering how to get their perverbial word vomit to cease, and leaving me giving "the stare" to those who can't seem to keep their attitudes in check.

I love my job. I really, truly, do. Sometimes I question my choice, but to me that's a wake-up call to remind myself that this is something I wanted to do, that I like to do.

But Jesus, help me. I'm drained.

A brief note

I just found out that one of my students--one of the 8th graders that gave me the biggest headache yesterday because of his non-stop chattering (MISS FRANKLIN I CAN'T READ I NEED YOUR HELP PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE COME HERE) but seemed genuinely a good person--was in the Children's Army. He's apparently a trained fighter and has killed people before in his country, and he literally cannot read or write. He saw his family killed before him, and was handed a machine gun and told to fight for the rebel cause, like so many children of that country. He's apparently living in a home with no stability right now, and hardly gets meals let alone attention. If I need to find him, ever, I've been told to check the lunch room.

He's good natured, but talks SO MUCH, demanding your utmost attention. I thought he was "The Distracter;" the kid who distracts the teacher so the others can get off task, so I stood by him and read my book during the silent reading time, and continually tried to keep him on-task by telling him that until he could show me he was trying to read by sitting there for four minutes in silence (and staring at the book), I would then come and help him. It was really cute how he tried to show me he was trying. He would sit there and say, "Ms. Franklin. Look. Look at me. I'm trying. I'm trying can you please come help meeeeee." He wanted to borrow a book but I wouldn't let him, not knowing if whether I was going to see him in any of my other classes. When I saw him in the hall yesterday afternoon, I called to him, "Sky, if you want to borrow a book come and see me tomorrow!" He replied, "Thank you Miss Franklin!!!!" and ran out the door to his bus. I found out today that he's in my last hour.

I "felt" he was a nice person, he was just so damned annoying!

I just want to hug him.

Pictures of MY Classroom!!

First Day

My first day... how to put it? Beginning half was alright; harried and out of whack, but alright. I ended up taking some of the other classes off of the teacher's hands, since I technically didn't have any classes today since my students have to be tested into my course.

The sixth graders were WONDERFUL! I had them first and they were an absolute breeze and joy--terrified, sweet, and went along with everything I wanted them to do. Seventh grade tried me a little, but they knew their limits and actually apologized for being nutty a few times. Then I had lunch and relaxed, not that I needed to. But then came the 8th graders, the poster children of last year, apparently.

I wanted to shove books down their rotten little throats.

THEY WERE HORRIBLE!! Perfect little poster-children for the rotten core of America, and it made me wonder and wish why I ever wanted to become a teacher. One boy immediately threw attitude in my face when I asked him to get against the wall--"I am against a wall." Mr. Walker, the gym/health teacher and on my related arts team, had to ask him why he was giving me attitude. From the moment I got them they hated me with a passion, snickering and saying to each other, "She's a bitch. Damn straight, I can't stand her."

O.O I'd never met these kids, and they "hated" me already. I know part of it is because I'm new; they wanted to test the newbie. However, another part of me realizes it's just them being snotty kids. I just don't understand the snotty-factor! I don't remember ever being this shitty.

I yelled. I am not one to raise my voice, and I was hoping I wasn't going to have to. But it looks like I have to play it hard. I said, "I'm getting pretty sick of the disrespect you all are showing me. I asked you a simple thing--to read silently (only because they were so rude that I had to mellow them out before getting to be fun with them)--and what do I get in return? Talking. I'm not able to play games with you guys like I did my other classes because you can't even follow the simple instructions of reading silently. Until you can stop your chattering you get to sit here in silence and not play a fun game. It's your own grave, keep digging."

Eventually, by the end of the hour, I got to play hangman with them. It was a real challenge to get them to be quiet, but the moment it was truly silent--when I felt they were actually concentrating on being good--I asked them if they could handle a game of hangman. They did beautifully after that, up until the last 2-5 minutes of class time when they went bonkers again. But damn was it a challenge! And I was just so angry with them.

I have to think of it this way: I cleaned my classroom to my point of liking, and then I decorated and made it pretty. It took an entire week to do so, so what makes me think a single day of teaching will be any easier? I have to clean the kids to my liking, and then slowly let them decorate themselves to my liking--not too showy, but allowing them to display their feathers and personality.

Now, where's my broom?

Gotcha!!!

Last week I worked Picture Perfect, where we go around taking pictures of various places and things. One place was the Botanical Gardens, and we had the chance to go to the Children's garden.
A little girl walked up to me and said, "What's the Children's Garden?"
I replied, "It's the place where we plant little children."
-----------------------
Last night I had to call parent to tell them to have their daughters bring their swimsuits to sewing camp (yes, for rizzle) because we decided to break up the day and allow the girls to swim to get some of their psycho energy out (they were about to eat one another's heads off after two days of being shut up in a tiny room in the YMCA, trying to sew). One little girl, a nine-year-old by the name of Emily, answered the phone. She has a really high-pitch sweet voice that makes your face melt.
"Emily?"
"Yeah."
"Bring your swimsuit tomorrow and for the rest of the week; tell your sister to do it too."
"...why? I thought we were just swimming on Thursday."
"We're going swimming all day for the rest of the week. So bring your suit."
"ALL DAY? So no more sewing?"
"No more sewing. Moochie (the seamstress) and I decided that we just couldn't take it anymore, and we just want to swim for the rest of the week. So, no more sewing."
"So... really? All day? Swimming? SWEET!"
"No, not really, but bring your swimsuit and don't forget to tell your sister!"
"UHHH, WHAT!? SHAUNA! HAHAHAH"
Soooo good.

Well, that isn't so good for the pocketbook.

Soooo... I definitely just spent $148.08 on 47 books for my classroom.

I would shoot myself in the face if it weren't for the fact that I actually needed these books; I'm going to require my students to read one YA book every 1.5-2 weeks. Too bad they're hardly going to fill in a bookcase; I need MORE.

I need more money.

I need more Gabriel. Oh how I miss my nephew.

Stupid dreams...

So, I had my first teaching nightmare the other night. It was a combination between having my campers in Messy Art Camp, and teaching for the first time, since it eventually turned into middle schoolers.

I arrived late to work, dressed for class and not camp. I apologized profusely, and got changed, and by the time I came back out they were all established into groups of ages between 5-9. A bus full of kids arrived, and I saw that they were mostly older kids, middle to high-schoolers, mostly African-American (perhaps because my stu-teaching experience was at a Black School, and I know that a lot of my future students will be African American as well?). I was told that since I was going to be an upper-level teacher, I had to do Messy Art Camp with these kids by myself. I was intimidated, but I told myself I could do it. I take them into the YMCA and find a classroom with a bunch of computers inside of it. I ask them to sit down at the computers, and get instantly annoyed when they start playing with the plants, papers, and other random objects found. I yell (which is actually not what I'm like at all), "Everyone in their seats this very instant!" They do it, but I get some dirty looks as a result. No one listens to me, and I'm running from one end of the room to the other just putting out perverbial fires; I haven't even started the lesson! It escalates to the point that a girl is sitting in front of me and won't move until I say "the magic word" which happens to be "please." I say it mockingly, because she's making me angry, and she says, "You know, if you were nicer, we wouldn't be so mean to you." I explode and tell her that if I were any nicer I'd be made of sugar.

At one point in the dream, the classroom was so out of control that a boy threw a basketball at my back. I immediately pointed him into a seat, and walked into Dr. Gilles's office and asked for a sheet to write him up. She asks me why, and I let her know the situation in the classroom. She stares at me and says, condiscendingly, "You know, you should have had control from the instant they walked into the room. It's your own fault." She continues to berate me in front of the students (because her office is attached to my classroom, for some reason), and I hear them going, "HA-HA!" I shoot them dirty glares and procede to take the sheet from Dr. Gilles, and wrote the student up.

A student walked up to me and said, "Are you seriously going to write him up for that? He didn't even do anything, really."

Dr. Gilles yells from the office, "It's because she's an IDIOT!"

I turned to the student and said, "You know, it was an act of complete disrespect. I didn't deserve that at all!"

The student shrugged and said, "If you had been nicer, it wouldn't have happened."

I tell the kid to go and sit down, which he does. I walked over the the kid I was writing up, and sat down to his level and talked to him like I would have normally done! I ask him why he did it; he replies that I wasn't very nice and that I was making him angry. I let him know that if he continues to follow directions for the rest of the day, I'll consider this a warning instead of a write-up, and we'll start anew. He nods and smiles.

From there out the dream ends, and it seems to be okay.

At Fellows Orientation Day today, I told Dr. Gilles about the dream. She laughed and said, "I would have never said that to you! I would have said, 'Now, how could we have handled that situation differently?' and some other questions to help you out. I promise I would have never said any of those things to you!" It was pretty funny. : )

P.s. Thanks for lunch again, Becca!!!

Oh my! How picturesque!

Here's my school!! Long Middle School; or at least the front and right sides of it.









And here's the awesome Bevo Mills right next to the school: a giant windmill! I wish I could have gotten a frontal shot of it.

Kinda in shock still

So, I think I'm still in relative shock that I'm graduated, a Masters student, and going to be teaching full time.

I think I'm mostly in shock that a school chose me over someone else. I mean, don't they know that I'm not prepared to do this sort of job? Don't they know that I'm not experienced and that I'm completely unprepared to take on 150 children? That I'm disorganized and scatter-minded, and that half the time I have to bounce ideas off people in order to get a decent idea of what I'm doing? That I have no clue as to what names go along with what pedagogy strategies, and that I'm still lost when it comes to names of teaching strategists?

And yet... I came off as competent and smart enough to lead a classroom?

What in the hell was I thinking becoming a teacher? And what were they thinking when they took me in?

Hmmm....

So, this is my official teaching journal. I'm a little nervous to see what I end up writing as a result of this; will it be positive? Self-bashing? We'll see.

I'm pretty nervous!