Subday

Was all set for first hour this morning when I left. Had a text from Lizzy on my way to school, saying she would be out for the day and that I needed to check my email for plans for each class. I'm not able to sub yet, as my paperwork hasn't gone completely through.

As soon as the students found out we had a sub, they were gone. Squirrelly, antsy, [other animal]y, and in some classes, overwhelmingly disrespectful. The tempos dragged so much that I had to snap the beat through pretty much every song and every phrase that we rehearsed. Between that and the name game in first hour, I got a nasty blood blister on my right middle finger from snapping. It's pretty much tops.

I used nonverbals (hand gestures, "Queen Victoria" stare, proximity) but fifth and sixth hour especially just did not give a flying fart about anything. I would give the boys a look in sixth hour, and as soon as I turned around, they would continue to mutter. Nothing I did mattered until I actually said, "When I look away, I should not hear more talking," in the middle of another sentence.

Basically it came down to me not having the energy to get on them about their disrespect right from the start. I let the day slide through my fingers, and I just accepted it.

It was a rough day, and I'm glad I only have to really deal with first and sixth hour tomorrow. I planned out my lessons after school, and I'm feeling okay about tomorrow. I just have to really focus on maintaining my authority, and having zero tolerance for disrespect.

Tomorrow is another day and a fresh slate. For tonight, I'm going to forget about everything school-related and enjoy an evening of stir-fry and Supernatural with my cousin. I think that's the best plan.

Find out what it means to me.

Yesterday there was no post because I didn't feel like ranting about the cynicism of our seminar instructor. Or the fact that most people in our class don't know how to write succinct and easy-to-remember classroom rules posters.

Today, however, was the first day of "real" class at Longbourn Middle School since last Tuesday, as most of last week constituted exams. It was also the first day of the new semester.

This meant certain students got switched around the choirs, ruining the whole groove of the system that was working so well a week ago. Third hour stayed basically the same with 2-3 girls dropping and one girl switching from fourth hour, while fourth hour dropped from 35 students to 28 or 27. The girls only outnumber the boys by a margin of 4 or 5 now. I couldn't stay for the eighth grade choirs, as I had a doctor's appointment after lunch.

New semester also means new sixth grade vocal exploratory class. We'll have four 4-week classes of sixth graders, the second of these classes being the one I get free rein over. For now I'm observing how Lizzy sets up the class from the beginning, and jumping in a little bit later.

I really got to see Lizzy put her game face on for this first hour today. She was pretty neutral, with maybe a hint of pleasant, right at the beginning. However, a few students decided to be defiant and try to have the last word. Lizzy quickly jumped on it, explaining that that is not appropriate behavior, that "I don't expect to hear 'whatever' from you, because I would never use that word with you."

A few of these students started very clearly having silent conversations across the group/aisle, and Lizzy nipped those right in the bud. This is something that I think I will probably have a more difficult time picking out, but I'm sure I'll get the hang of it eventually.

Going through the main rules of the classroom, she boiled everything down to respect beginning on the inside. "If you respect yourself, will you be responsible for your actions? How about your own safety?"

Something I hadn't heard Lizzy say about respect was something that I found quite valuable:

"Let's talk about a phrase that most of you have heard, and I'm sure some of you even believe. This is not a phrase that I will ever use: 'You have to earn my respect.' "

I was a little surprised, but it occurred to me that the phrase didn't exactly fall into line with the atmosphere Lizzy's choirs have. She continued.

"You might be sitting there thinking, 'Ms. Bennett, you can have my respect when you've earned it.' Let me tell you about someone who never once told people to earn his respect." During a short pause, I briefly considered who she might be referring to, but I didn't guess correctly: "Martin Luther King, Jr."

A murmur of approval and agreement shuddered through the sixth grade class. From this point every eye was on Lizzy.

"Was Dr. King a respected man? Is he?" A sea of bobbing heads prompted her to continue. "When Dr. King was being attacked with fire hoses by those in authority, did he stop and say, "I'm sorry, but you need to earn my respect?" An ocean of swaying heads. "No, he respected them for being fellow human beings, and for their positions of authority over him."

She leaned in. "I will show each and every one of you respect, and I expect respect from each one of you." They nodded in agreement.

Lizzy also very quickly uses classroom rules as examples of real-life application. "You know, those students who answer all the questions, they're gonna grow up and be your bosses one day. Don't let them be the only 'smart' ones! People who answer questions and put themselves out there are the ones who get hired and promoted. Don't you want to be promoted and be a boss one day?"

"You forgot your pencil/agenda/folder? What is the policeman going to say when you've forgotten your license and you're speeding?"

Things like that get the students thinking, "Oh, maybe I'm learning something I actually can carry with me and use in my everyday life.

The theme for this marking with the sixth graders is probably going to be "nipping things in the bud." Therein lies my discipline goal. Ready, go!

[I'd write something more coherent and definitive to end this, but pain meds are making me sleepy. Cheerio!]

Tude.

Today I got to deal with my first minor discipline issue. Not anything huge, just some tude going on. What is "tude," you ask? Don't worry, I got you covered.

Today the only class we had was first hour sixth grade, as it was the first day of exams and Lizzy has second hour planning period. I had the whole hour to work with them on a continuation of what we did yesterday.

After moving to the beat like we did yesterday (and nipping side conversations in the bud!), I asked the students a few questions about what we did yesterday, and informed them of a few things we would try to accomplish today.

I don't remember the exact moment it occurred, but at some point a student sitting right in the front row--let's call him George--decided that he was going to make a sarcastic response to everything I said. The first time or two I gave him a look and he stopped, but one comment was defiant, verging on downright mean.

My tone changed from "let's get down to business," to "defeating the huns," so to speak (...yup).

"No," I said sharply, "That was not appropriate."

The students hadn't really seen me get harsh before, so I heard a few ascending "ooooooh's" arise.

George didn't give me any more lip for the rest of the class, even if he was a bit sullen for a short while when he didn't get placed in a group with his usual buddies. However, he showed he understood the material when he started piping up with suggestions later on in class.

In the twenty minutes before class I split them into different groups than the ones they were in yesterday. Yes, there were some really confident groups yesterday, but there were also one or two super chatty ones wherein the group members got off task easily. I was careful to place one really strong leader in each group, as well as at least one person to balance them and make sure they checked their work. Today they were in six groups of four instead of five groups, making individual contributions that much more important.

The mission for the small group work was similar to yesterday, with the exception that all students had to memorize the four-measure phrase of rhythm they created. The purpose of memorization? Performing with other groups in a "battle of the bands" type situation where the rest of the class would vote on the winning group.

I walked around to each group, checking their progress. After the first round I challenged the groups to have their rhythms complete and memorized for the second time I came around. At that point I should have just given them a time limit and told all the groups to have it performance ready at the end of the time limit. However, I made a second round and checked groups for accuracy, involvement, and teamwork. Until typing just now, I was stumped by what to have them do after I visited their group a second time. It makes infinitely more sense just to have them jump right in to performing and critique. I was just erring on the side of having everyone fully prepared and successful.

When all the groups had shown me they were ready, everyone sat back in their seats and two groups volunteered to go first. I put on "Firework," by Katy Perry (which was a tad fast, but challenged them nicely), and after getting the whole class to feel the beat, the first group performed their rhythm. Classmates volunteered three things they liked, and then three things they could improve on, and the group performed it again. Then group 2 went through the same process.

The next step, which I had told them about before, was putting the two rhythms together. Group 1 performed, then I counted off group 2, and then I counted off both of the groups so that they performed their rhythms together. The class got a huge kick out of it, and the performers realized that it was actually easier to stay on the beat when they listened to the other group performing with them.

I then asked the audience to put up fingers signifying which group they thought "won" the "battle of the bands." The class voted for group 2, and I asked them for three reasons why. They replied that group 2 was more together, louder, and had no memory slips.

At this point I wish I had addressed that the students were critiquing each other not only on musical accuracy, but on expression and teamwork. I wish that I had pointed out how supportive and observant the students were being. I was so concerned about time, however, that I completely flew past that.

The second set of groups got up, and while waiting for group 4 and myself, group 3 took it upon themselves to practice their rhythm.

"What is this group doing?" I asked the class.

"Talking!" was the general answer, but amid that I heard one lonely "Practicing!" cry out.

"Exactly! Practicing!" I then launched into a side note about how professional musicians warm up before they perform, and often will quickly run through some difficult passages before they perform. It wasn't something that was part of my lesson, but the students seemed intrigued.

I ran out of time, so only four groups got to perform. However, all students who weren't performing were actively engaged and contributing to critique. There was a point during the lesson wherein I had to make a decision: is it more important for all students to experience it, or for students to be successful? I think that in this particular case, more students were successful because they really analyzed what was happening with each group's performance.

There were many things I would change, but I'm pretty happy with how today's lesson went. Overall it was a "take charge" kind of day.

Alpha Dog/Staph Meeting

Every day it seems like the days before it are all blurred together.

Yesterday, I played the name game and led warm-ups for all the choirs. Lizzy commented that I could be more commanding in my gesture (conducting), body language, and inflection. Today, for the sake of time, I just played the name game with the students, and the rest of the class period Lizzy worked on sight-reading with them.

During one of the larger classes, when I asked all the students to change seats so I could truly test my name memory, there were quite a bit of students climbing over chairs. The problem was in my wording: I had said, "Please move to another seat," and by the time I was saying, "responsibly and safely," they were already on the move and chatting. Now, the chairs are velcroed together in sets of two and three, but it was still wildly unsafe, and clearly against the rules of Lizzy's classroom.

"Excuse me!" I projected, "Is it responsible or safe to be climbing over chairs?"

They either ignored me or didn't hear me. I didn't care which: I needed to show them who was the boss. I waited until they were mostly in their seats and starting to simmer down.

"No," I protested, "Is climbing over chairs responsible or safe?"

Half the class murmured a "no," but it wasn't enough.

"Is climbing over chairs responsible or safe?"

"No," was the general consensus.

"Okay, then remember that when you go back to your seats in a few minutes." I then proceeded with the game. At the end I reminded them, "Now, responsibly and safely--so not climbing over chairs-- return to your original seats." And it went smooth as honey. Lizzy was taking notes and was pleased with my progress in commanding respect and attention.

I have to say, waiting for quiet every time the students start chatting feels absurd, but establishing my authority was worth it.

What better way to end a day full of establishing authority as well as a rapport with students, than to spend 45 minutes listening to irritating disciplinary policy and inane questions. You guessed it, we had a staff meeting.

Every organized meeting has one of those people. You know the one: she either asks questions that can be answered with common sense (otherwise known as thinking about a potential answer before asking said question), or presents a ludicrous and obscure "what if" scenario. Sometimes she is lovable enough that no one hates her, but most of the time it's almost unbearable.

Of course, I knew exactly which staff member she would be, because she never raised her hand to wait to be called on, interjected whenever she felt like it, and whenever she was called on for a question, everyone around me shifted uncomfortably/rolled their eyes/sighed heavily. Let's call her Lady Catherine de Bourgh, and the principal Charlotte Lucas.

EXAMPLE

Charlotte was explaining to the faculty that at no point can they leave their classes alone with a parapro (legal reasons).

Lady Catherine: Well, what if I have to run to the bathroom--

Charlotte: Nnnno.

LC: --can I ask another teacher to come in and watch my class?

Charlotte: Absolutely. However, that teacher cannot leave their class to watch yours.

LC: What if they stand between classes?

Staff: *SIGH IN UNISON*

Charlotte: What, like...how do you mean?

LC: You know, watches both classes. (I had images in my head at this point of a teacher being drawn and quartered by two classrooms.)

Charlotte: That...that would be almost impossible.

LC: Well I guess you...I guess...(tapers off)

Later, when discussing not letting volunteers or people not working for the district see you grade in order to protect student privacy, Lady Catherine smugly asked, "Well what if I have a long-term sub? She needs to be able to grade things!"

(Lizzy and I to each other: "THEY WOULD BE EMPLOYED BY THE DISTRICT.")

Charlotte calmly replied, "Of course a long-term sub would be allowed access to grades. I'm talking about volunteers, friends, or spouses. Those kinds of people."

Overall, I do like the staff that I've met.

Do I agree with all the decisions made in the building? No.

Will I still learn a lot from this experience? Absolutely.