What WORKS

I love Hey Girl, Teacher. Recently I found this:

Love it. Except one thing. I think what I do, I think the path I have chosen and the final goal of closing the achievement gap turns out to be more difficult that what Felix accomplished. For one thing, his endeavor was fully funded. So what does that say about education? What does it say that the mission of success and academic growth for ALL students feels more daunting and more audacious than free falling from the stratosphere? 

I've hit a turning point in this year. In this broken year of job loss, transfers, confusion, stress and upset. I've reached the point where I can't be upset all the the time anymore. I've reached the point where I need to focus on what works and what I can control instead of looking at the bigger problems each day. The daily challenge of education remains too exciting, too vital, and too real to not be fully engaged in the process. If I truly believe that I come to work each day to increase learning for ALL (and I do) then I no longer have the luxury of focusing much attention on the broken pieces of the system. Maybe at a later point I will... but that day is not today. 

So I want to make the posts this year about What Works. Even in all the chaos, good things are happening and I'm learning and discovering new ways to connect math and kids. Right now few resources exist for the Math RTI world and so I'm forging ahead with a trail blazing attitude. And that's exciting. I will have the privileged of working with a wonderful team this year of other math intervention teachers. And i will be thoughtful and reflective about what WORKS to help these students of mine. Because I do believe every child can and will learn math. But to make it happen? To close that gap? It's a bigger jump than even Felix will ever know. 

Reminder

There are moments. Small ones. Unexpected. Unplanned. Moments when I remember why I got into teaching. I'm talking about the very very first reasons I got in to this job. Before I found a love of teaching Algebra. Before I realized I loved teaching middle school. Before I had a passion for imparting learning. Before all that. Freshman year of college. Picking a major. When I imagined I could make lives better. I could make students happy. I could, if I did this well enough, change the world. It didn't matter what subject I taught or even how I taught it. I just wanted to be a part of education.
It's not that I don't still hope for that. It's just, as I get deeper into the practice of education the focus of my passion has shifted. I think it had to. The hardest truth in teaching is that you can't save every child from the world just by wanting to. Not every student will love my course just because I care about them. The problems outside the classroom are big and so many lives, even in a nicer school like mine, are sad. It can consume me if I don't put a little distance between me and the outside world. So, I focus on what I can control. I can control the math. I can control the instruction. I can control my room. I make my classroom safe and I keep my standards high. And if I do my job well, I can give each student a fair and equitable shot at taking control of his or her life through a better education.

But then.....

one moment, one conversation, one goodbye reminds me that i am still effecting lives.

 that i do more than teach math.

i can still give hope to students that feel hopeless.

suddenly the day stops. for just a moment. It gets real. i see a student clearly, really clearly, for the first time.

Then, I pull it together. Wipe away a few tears. Put my head up, put a smile on, and head back in to my classroom.

A moment like that feels so bittersweet. So full of regret, so full of hope. I am so thankful to this student, this unexpected student and this unexpected moment.

Weekend Work Well Spent

When I started at my middle school four years ago, the school had just taken on the challenge of become a Middle Years Program school under the IB program. At the time, just happy with a job, I thought little of it. I set up my classroom and focused on surviving my first year in the school.  I've spent the last three years talking about the program at staff meetings, sharing the stress of authorization, and trying to make sense of all the pieces of such a large program. Still, it didn't feel as though I had figured out what this MYP thing really stood for.
So, when a training made it's way in to town I jumped on it. How could I pass up a chance to get formal training from the IB program, from the people who know it best and understand all the pieces and philosophies? It meant giving up a weekend, but I crossed my fingers and hoped for the best.
And what a weekend it turned out to be. I really REALLY read the IB mission statement for the first time. Not just a glance as I poured over documents- but a really good look at it:

The International Baccalaureate aims to develop inquiring, knowledgeable and caring young people who help to create a better and more peaceful world through intercultural understanding and respect.
To this end, the organization works with schools, governments and international organizations to develop challenging programmes of international education and rigorous assessment.
These programmes encourage students across the world to become active, compassionate and lifelong learners who understand that other people, with their differences, can also be right.

As our presenter said-- it's unabashedly optimistic. That phrase, "unabashedly optimistic", pretty much sums up my attitude towards public education, and reading the mission statement almost made me feel like I had found a kindred spirit. Suddenly, it hit me. This is not just one teacher I found to talk about how the world can be better through education- this is an entire global connection of educators who not only believe this, but have worked to make it a systematic and implementable thing

So, for three days, I just absorbed. Words I felt like I've just been floating in for the last three years became tangible and real. Ideas that felt unfocused and out of reach in my past MYP work became focused and doable.

I got the energy surge.

The surge. The desire to work, work WORK until I get this right. To go to work early, to stay late, to think, to struggle. The desire that drives me when I know something must be done because I can make things better and brighter for my students. I can make things stronger and learning better- and when I suddenly realize I have the tools and knowledge to do this, I can't rest until I do. How could I?

spark

The weeks get long through September and October. There are few breaks and by October the honeymoon period passed long ago and we are truly into The Grind. Days end with me sitting in front of a desk covered with stacks of things I just don't want to deal with.
But then, there are these moments. These sparks that keep me going. Right now I'm well into a unit I particularly like. Square roots, Pythagorean Theorem, distance on a coordinate plan... some really wonderful topics that I've come to love teaching. Not only that, I believe I've become really GOOD at teaching this particular unit. I have a groove, a flow, a method to my madness.
So today, as we are working through problems, kids with mini whiteboards and me running around the room offering help, checking in, and having an all around good time, a student says, "It just really seems like you WANT us to learn."
Yeah. That felt good. Suddenly my tired feet were not so tired. Today, I just felt the good vibe in the room- like the students picked up on my desire for them to learn and love math and that vibe moved through them and radiated back to me.
And that's the spark that will get me through these next few dark and rainy weeks. Because, today it was a spark... but tomorrow... who knows?

My Priveledge. NOT my Burden

I am a public educator. I work at a school that has embraced the philosophy that every child can learn and has a right to the highest possible rigor. I am trained in ways to meet the need of each child individually in my classroom. It is my responsibility and my privilege to teach every student in my room regardless of race, gender, socioeconomics, learning needs, sexual orientation, or any thing else under the moon.
You, the parent, have one child to worry about. To take care of. To guide through the crazy world of 8th grade. Leave the other 99 to me. DO NOT make excuses for your child based on the other students who are in my room. DO NOT let your child make excuses for him/herself because of the biases and perceptions he/she has of other students in the room. I guarantee you, those perceptions are wrong.   I WILL NOT justify the number of brown kids in my room or the number of kids with and without learning disabilities.
I WILL talk about your child. I will talk about his or her learning needs and if they are being met. I will work with you and your child to ensure learning is happening and support exists in my room for him to be challenged every day... as long as he is willing to take on those challenges.
Do not assume you know my burden. It is not the kids with the IEPs. It is not the kids on TAG plans. It is not a single one of my students. They are my joy and my reason for showing up each day.


 And guess what, that kid you son thinks is dumb, that kid with the autism that says funny things in class... yeah, she  just kicked his butt on the last test... but I won't tell you that... that information is confidential and it's time for your son to worry about his own learning and his own ability.