what I did right

So, I had the most awesome cooperating teacher.  Kathleen Wilt.  She taught me so much, and was truly instrumental in making me the teacher that I am today.  (Of course, some might argue that her influence wasn't a good thing, looking at the teacher I am today).  However, one of the things she taught me was to think about what I did right.  At the end of every day, she would ask me to list of three things that I did correctly.  You have NO idea how hard this is.  Seriously.  Try it.  Right now.  What did you do correctly today?
See?  It's hard.

The first few times I came up with things like, "Well, I didn't mortally wound anybody.  I remembered to put my pants on.  I didn't trip over the overhead cord."  This last one was prompted by actual tripping over said cord the week before.  But those weren't good enough.  See, her reasoning behind this exercise is that most days, we spend 99% of the day doing things right, and 1% of the day making gaffs.  But most of us then spend a disporportionate amount of time obsessing over that overhead cord induced wipeout.  Her theory is that if we recognize what we did right, we ar emore apt to repeat what we did right, and if we emphasize what we did wrong, well, then, the same thing goes.  Hence, wouldn't it make more sense to recognize those good things we did?

Okay.  That said.  Yesterday:  What I did correctly:  1) I walked away before I lost it.  2) I went for a walk when I couldn't stop crying.  3) I hugged and loved my dog when the tears threatened again.  4)  I went to the batting cages.  5)  I thanked my 6th period class for being such an awesome way for me to end my day.

I'm Not an Appropriate Chew Toy.

This is something I say to my sweet pit bull, Daisy, all the time. Well, not quite.  What I usually say is, "The cat isn't an appropriate chew toy," when she turns her attention to Simon or Oliver, instead of the stuffed hedgehog or random spherical object in the yard or house.  She generally gets a sheepish look (she's quite the good communicator) and sighs heavily (she's overly dramatic too), and then attacks whatever she was previously occupied with.  However, I currently feel like a certain parent's chew toy.  And this parent is not letting go.  This parent is the worst kind of pit bull.  And I love pit bulls.  I really do (although, I doubt I will ever own another one, because they sure take a lot of responsibility!).

AND, I should say--I'm not a parent.  Mainly because of that whole responsibility thing.  I mean, I'm relatively responsible--I pay my bills, walk my dog a lot (and pick up her poo), post my grades when I'm supposed to, vote, get insurance for my car, and what not.  But--I'm under no illusions--I'm too selfish for that whole parenting thing, so I am a little limited on the perspective-side here, I get that.  And there's good reason (besides my inability to date men that could pass a parenting test, should there be such a thing).  Sometimes, I don't eat sitting at the table.  Sometimes I have nachos for dinner. Sometimes I go for days without eating a single vegetable.  You can't leave kids in the car when you go the bar (or the grocery store, for that matter).  Sometimes I slack on the whole laundry thing.  And these are just a few reasons.  This isn't a litany on the failings of my personal life or habits--it's supposed to be a professional development-type blog.  SO.  That said--I recognize I'm not looking at this issue from the parent-side of things.

BUT--for the love of everything good and bacony in the world--I'm a pretty good teacher.  I mean, at least, I think so.  I love my job.  I love my students.  I try to to reflect on what we do in class and if it's relevant and effective.  I (over) analyze scores and data and if something worked or not.  I meet not only with my department but with other teachers from other districts to discuss relevance and meaning of current practices.  I read journals.  I spend hours on the Internet, and I survey students.  I think, in general, I'm not only passable as far as things go, I'm pretty good.  I mean, I realize that sounds like I'm doing a little bit of tooting, but...I mean, I over-analyze so much that I think if I thought I wasn't any good, I'd quit.  Or ask for help. Or ask if I should be asking for help.  Hell, I'm such a sucker for praise, I pretty much ask if I need help all the time as it is.  I love people in my classroom--any adult.  ANY adult.  Parent, co-teacher, random observer.  Bring it.  I love it.  I love the feedback.  I thrive on it--good or bad.  Seriously.

Ach, I digress.  Here's the issue:  I have a parent who won't let go.  I mean, WILL NOT.  I feel targeted and frustrated, and shackled.  I feel like I have no recourse, and it makes me angry and not fit for human company.  And I'm not being alarmest here--really (and I DO tend to exaggerate, I know this, and freely admit it).  She really is sort of being obsessive.  And, I mean, if I really were amiss, wouldn't somebody DO something?  Wouldn't I have been counseled? Put on a plan of assistance?  Been "talked" to?  I've been supported by the administration and when I question or analyze, my fears are put to rest.  So.  What do I do?  How do I continue with this? It's making me quite decidedly grouchy. 

And I don't like that.

BUT--I do have at present some pretty awesome news as well.  And as this is a professional development-type blog, this is the place to showcase it and muse about it.   This year has been a tough one.  I've been frustrated with apathy and lack of homework and engagement, and my seemingly inability to reach my student or inspire them or sometimes even to see a glimpse of interest.  Yet, despite all this and our intervention team losing resources every year since its inception, this year (THIS YEAR!) my students did better than ever on their state writing tests.  Seriously.  I'm not lying. It's a matter of public record. It's true.  I even had one kid score two sixes.  SIXES!  In voice, true, which doesn't count (according to the state) but still!  And, he also scored two fives in ideas and content, so that DID count, and so there! 

And as far as reflection goes, I'd have to say, I didn't do that much different this year than in years past.  I did  cover the imaginative prompt first thing, since most students choose that one (and this year, most of my students did not choose that one--first time ever!).  The other change I made that I think really helped was instead of harping about the test for weeks before we took it, I just briefly covered key points the day before--that might have helped.  I don't know.  One thing I'm SURE of, the addition of this guy is probably the biggest positive change we've had to our team this year, so I would have to say that much of these props is due to his reading and writing workshops he's been teaching.  Other than that, I'm at a loss.  I truly can't take the credit. 

So--I close on a positive.  My cooperating teacher used to make me tell her what I did right every day.  At first, I was coming up with things like, "Um, I put my pants on?" and, "I wore the same matching socks," because I was obsessing over tripping over the overhead cord. That was her point.  Even if we do 99.9% of things correctly in a day, we spend 80% of the day obsessing over that little thing (the stupid cord) or even the not so little thing, (when you give the sharp answer instead of taking a breath first).  Her idea was that if you obsess over the bad, you'll repeat it.  If you emphasize the positive, chances are you'll repeat the positive.  So, even if I can't figure out what it was, I'm truly going to try to repeat the positive, and let this mean pit-bull of parent just...go.  I'm not a chew toy.  I'm a pretty dedicated and hardworking teacher who loves what I do.  That's gotta be worth something.


And Tyson got two sixes.  TWO! 

thoughts...

A couple things I've been mulling about:

1) Am I ALWAYS this exhausted in March?  I'm just cranky and tired and frustrated and unmotivated and ready for the school year to be over, and we aren't quite close enough to the end of the year for this level of done-ness, I fear.  And I'm just not sure if I always feel this weary right about now or if this year is just tougher than usual.  Really.  I'm not sure.  It just sort of feels like I'm complaining more than usual.  Like I mention my grumpitude to my non-teacher friends more often.  And I DO really love my job; I do.  I truly, honestly do.  But sheesh, I'm tired.  I'm mentally sore; emotionally exhausted. 



 2) Sometimes, I really wish I didn't love my kids so much.  Sometimes loving them hurts.  Knowing that their lives are pretty crappy is frustrating and painful.  I wish I could fix their housing situations, their safety fears, their hunger.  I wish I could do it all. 

3)  How do parents do it?  I mean, seriously.  Sometimes, when I get home, it's all I can do to feed the dog, let alone me.  The idea of doing laundry, going to the gym, taking a bath, sometimes even brushing my teeth! seems overwhelming. Sometimes I feel so exhausted, and it's just me.  And I feel guilty sitting here, doing nothing, and I'm just letting myself down (well, and Daisy--who is looking at the leash very pointedly).  How do parents do it? How do they come home from work and do everything?  Feed kids?  Clean kitchens?  Get groceries?  Do laundry?  I'm amazed at parents. I'm amazed at people in relationships.  I barely have enough to function for my own sanity--I surely wouldn't be able to handle anybody else's wellbeing on my shoulders.  I suppose it's a good thing I don't have kids!  I'd leave them in the car and send them to school barefoot, no doubt about it.

Later than you think...

Yup.  One of those times where I should be grading and cleaning and working out and tutoring.  And I'm not.

Yikes!

Holy moly!  What a week.  Seriously.  The kids are amped.  I'm so glad I'm not an administrator!  SO GLAD.  I would not want to work that hard, or deal with the problems they deal with.

Or have the conversations they have to have. 

And I like it when I get a sticky issue and can pass it to them.

Does that make me a slacker?

Probably.

So, we had this snow day...

Actually, we've had three. 

Three snow days.  And, well, to be honest, very little snow.  But today, there was some snow. 

Also, I have these kittens.  Two of them.  And a dog.  And the kittens, well, they pretty much love the dog.  I do too, but that's not really the point.  The point is, that our midterm grades needed to be posted, so I walked to school on our snow day, and one of the kittens, Simon, followed us.

Then, while I tried to get to work, while Daisy was all curled up the reading chair, Simon decided that he was more important than work.

Somehow, I managed to get the grades posted. 

But he's cute, isn't he?