Posts (page 2)

For this blog, I dug up my classroom management plan from back in July, up from the depths of my summer-papers-drawer. It was no longer on my computer, because a virus recently forced me to wipe my computer clean. As I glance over my paper copy tonight,  I notice that I have made some minor adjustments to the plan, and have fallen short of my plan's goals in some major ways, now that I am actually in a live classroom:

1.)    Changes to my procedures: I have help pretty well to the no bathroom rule. Not too shabby.

2.)    Late policy: I am too generous on this. I need to start enforcing 70% top credit for late work (especially with binders!) I am too gracious! No wonder being late means nothing to these students.

3.)    Dismissal has become an absolute mess, probably because I am squeezing too much into the last part of class and so I miss a real closure in my lesson. The end of class is a stressful time, because I am worried students will walk off with my books, some students need passes from me, etc. Also, kids are more apt to get up out of their seat without reprimand from me at this time because I am engrossed in those aforementioned tasks. This created an even bigger problem, theft of my Promethean Board’s remote and pen, two weeks ago (which were thankfully and anonymously later returned). This is the change in my procedures as they have played out in real life that I hate the most. I really want to correct this and get back to my plan and how I did it in the first weeks: dismiss row by row. Right now, kids will leave against my directions.

4.)    Changes in the consequence ladder: I no longer call home before detention; I only call home at the point of detention. Even then, my show-up rate is about 50%. It takes forever to get them to come. So this is part of my CM plan that has not worked all that well so far. It’s exhausting and everyone – both implementer and receivers – hates it.

5.)    I DO NOT write troubling students’ names on the board. Boy, was that a disaster. They laughed and laughed. Now I have my own behavior chart (thanks, Cary!) that works as well as a brand-new car.

6.)    Changes in rewards: student of the Month, instead of week…phew! I was out of my mind when I wrote this plan! Also, I have yet to write encouragement or thank you notes to students who are doing a superb job and I have failed to post top test scorers’ names.

The parts of my plan that have worked wonders so far have been my rewards system, tickets (“how’d he get that candy bar?!” kids will still exclaim when their classmate cashes ‘em in.), my consequence system (which effectively removes tickets from them and which I keep up with fairly well – but which I should enact more often on more students), and my parent contact. My parent contact is fairly frequent and it is going well, even though I still dread nights when I go home and have to call a list of parents…

Given all these procedural and day-today changes, the more cerebral aspects of my plan have changed as well. My philosophy of classroom management has changed. First, let me say that I stick by part of my former philosophy, that CM should be driven by rewards. Tickets work pretty well: students want them, there is an undeniable buy-in. However, I have discovered that my Candide-like hope that CM would be something that required major effort up-front that would pay off in ease later, was completely wrong. I love the profession of teaching, and the opportunities for interaction and creativity it provides, but what gets me down about teaching is the constant-ness of it all. There is no rest day when I have nothing to do. It’s either grading, plans, calling parents about behavior or tardies or detentions, or graduate school work. All these things nag at me till I get them done.

Anyway, back to the question: I have discovered that my initial philosophy was naïve. CM takes just as much energy, if not more, now than it did then. Sure, maybe the expectations are routine now, and in that way doing my job is easier, but managing behavior is the same uphill struggle that it was back then.

Another part of my philosophy that I am not so sure about (see how my skepticism has grown and my inexperience is departing?) now is that my students really know what is expected of them and how to succeed in my class. How can it be that, 10 weeks into the school year, students STILL ask for pens at the beginning of class, or stand and walk around the room and look at me like I am crazy for that rule. Ms. Nelson: “Um, rule number one in my classroom from day one. What is it, Ryan?” Ryan: “Uh…” Ms.Nelson:  [growing impatient] “It says right there on the wall, ‘raise your hand to speak or stand.’”

As I reflect on this now, I imagine myself presenting my amended CM plan Power Point to the first years next summer. I wonder how my plan and philosophy will continue to change and evolve between now and then, even?

August 31, 2008

As a sociology major, I inhaled Payne’s book with exhilaration! She put several of the major social theories I’ve been chewing on and digesting for the past few years during undergrad into layman’s terms. My reflection on this book is going to be translating it from Payne’s terms into a sociologist’s terms, just because I love sociology so darn much. I believe Payne's representation of poverty and those who live in poverty is pretty accurate, with a few minor exceptions (one being her statement that most Hispanics in poverty have two-parent households). Because I think her representations are (overall) accurate, I will draw to the surface the evidence and theories (which, in good sociology, are linked) that support her seemingly over-broad, and sometimes outrageous, claims.

Chapter one and six were about what James Coleman calls “social capital.” As I learned in a college seminar, enthrallingly titled ‘American Youth Violence,’ all these various forms of non-monetary resources Payne lists (mental, spiritual, the ‘net’ of social support systems, etc.) form multiple layers of protection for at-risk youths which push them down a non-delinquent trajectory, or life-path.  If an at-risk youth can make it to the age of 16 or 17 without criminal offenses, research suggests that that youth has successfully dodged a life trajectory of delinquency. So preventing juvenile delinquency is about piling on the protective factors so teens can make it to that point.

Chapters 2, 3 and 8 reminded me of Peter Bourdieu and Anne Lareau’s work on “cultural capital” – that is, the internal, hidden knowledge a class has for communicating and surviving. One interesting point Payne failed to bring up in chapter two is the difference in how children from working class (as opposed to middle class) families hear a middle class teacher’s instructions. For example, these children are accustomed to directives from their parents, no polite question-form demands, i.e., “Otis, read page 5,” instead of “Otis, will you please read page 5?” Also, for children of the working class, imaginative play and asking questions is strongly discouraged at home, so they are at a disadvantage at school, where these things are expected and rewarded.

When Payne says, “hidden rules...are often the factors that keep an individual from moving upward in a career,” she is talking about the conflict perspective in sociology, espoused by Marx, Weber and Kozol (44). This perspective holds that the classes are always opposed to each other, and the upper class has both overt and covert ways of holding the lower class down where they are (preventing mobility). No wonder poor people “actively distrust organizations” (59)!

In the conclusion, when Payne talks about grieving the fact that adults in poverty seem to be left option-less, I was reminded of the strain theory in sociology, which states that structurally blocked opportunities literally slice away choices for an individual to avoid deviance or poverty.

I remember when I was being trained to be a mentor for a Hispanic girl when I was in college. The mentoring agency I did this through used Payne’s book in the mentor’s orientation meeting. The agency emphasized how those in poverty don’t know how to plan for the future (which Payne discusses in chapters 3 and 4), but rather emphasize their current feelings. I also remember being taken aback by Payne’s comment that people in poverty rely much more heavily on entertainment as a respite, and that they will dispose quickly of (much-needed!) income on DVDs, etc. I also recall that the agency said that the main resource a mentor gives a mentee is the lesson of positive and procedural self-talk, so that the mentee’s habit of impulsive decision making is revised.

I would definitely say that the book helped me understand my student population better, by enabling me to empathize with them (which is an important staple to keep intact when teaching, as draining and depressing as it can some days be); administering and reading my anonymous student surveys did the same thing. The book also gave concrete, practical tips and tools to implement better teacher-student rapport. What I like best about Payne’s book are the applications she lists in bullet-points at the end of each chapter. It really helps me simmer down to think of my students in terms of being products of their home environments, which are not necessarily bad environments, just environments with stresses of which I ought not be blind. If I can remember this this year, it will help me be a more compassionate teacher, who will groan, perhaps, at having to call a second time to reschedule a missed detention, instead of blowing a fuse over it. My favorite bullet-point motivated me to teach goal-setting and be an unwavering role-model to my students.  Chapter 8 also inspired me to set a new goal for myself as a teacher: to enhance my students’ ability to time-manage and use precise vocabulary to express themselves (I like the word maps on p. 100).

I also like the instances in which she tells real-life cases of how schools are addressing breakdowns in social support systems, like the middle school in TX with homework time and late buses built into the school day...how inspiring!

What I dislike most about Payne’s book is that she uses sources that are NOT academic. It’s an unpalatable mixture of good research and worthless subjective babble. Her goal to author a book that puts social phenomena within the layman’s reach is excellent; but I don’t like, for example, that she treats Steven Covey (a pop-, positive-psychology writer) and C. Wright Mills (an empirical social researcher) as equivalents in credibility and objectivity.

Summer training was a fast-paced learning and friend-making adventure.  I would compare it to diving into a pool. I knew exactly what was coming, and it felt even more refreshing and invigorating than I expected. Also, like a dive, I felt queasy and nervous at first. Looking down into the waters below, I was apprehensive in the beginning weeks. Formal evaluation days and befriending new people and getting up in front of a class for the first time were inevitable growing pains of training. Any training requires pushes into un-comfortable zones. That is how I would describe summer training: a series of pushes into that zone of discomfort, which got gradually more and more do-able. The encouragement and support along that route was more than sufficient to keep me willing to step into each new day and each new experience. Soon enough, each day became a thrill.

Summer training also entailed bonding with my second years and fellow first years. I learned so much from these five people (plus my team teacher).  Through my daily interaction with them, I gained strength, a sense of know-how, a direction to my professional growth, and most of all, a love for the job. My questions, fears, concerns, ideas, dreams and hopes: they were all in safe territory with these “teaching kin” in place.

This brings me to the most helpful aspect of summer training: the social interaction that is built into it. I love being roommates and neighbors with the people I work alongside. I love growing as a teacher, not on my own, but as part of a group of people who share the same journey and desires in their future vocation. I love the fact that benefitting from peers’ ideas is so effortless in this environment, and that sharing resources is made so natural and easy over the course of the summer training. This is hands-down the absolute strength of summer training: centrality of social exchange between, and proximity to, first- and second-years -- and then, the magical transition to an intensified bonding between first-years in July. I feel like this enables us to survive. When I refer to this strength of ‘social interaction,’ I refer not only to the vocation-related advice the second-years and team teachers gave (and continue to give!) us, but also to our own closeness to each other – in terms of age, energy levels, idea flow, etc. – made summer training very productive and satisfying.

What needs improvement about summer training? I say, keep the rigorous pace, the early mornings  of school and lesson prep, and late nights of LP-ing. Keep the afternoon class, the inclusion of the more seasoned team teachers and all the evaluations and assignments to blog, to do projects and to read books. All I’d like to add is, more books (one or two to give us even more classroom management food for thought), and somehow making our class time a time when we can start thinking about planning for our year ahead. Perhaps some end-of-summer re-boosting from the second years would be good, like a jump-start to mentoring before the first day of school hits. I definitely feel compelled to read all of Wong & Wong now. I can’t suggest much for summer training improvement at this point; perhaps being in my own classroom within the next two weeks will show me where summer training left me unprepared. From where I stand now, though, I feel well-prepared and ready (though still nervous as I imagine what lies ahead- but no amount of preparation could take that away. A little edge is good in order to function anyway, isn’t it?).

Thursday, July 24

On Tuesday, I/we (my co-teachers and I) failed one of our thirteen students. The numbers determined this outcome, but we wrestled with the fact of it emotionally and logically anyway. This student's failure was no shock, given his low cumulative score all summer long. But, when I think about the fact that the boy who sat next to him was also failing at the midpoint of summer school, and actually lagged behind him by three percentage points earlier on, I can't help but feel a chill of remorse, pain or regret that the summer ended with no turn-around for this kid.

Our failing student, we will call him Joshua, actually had his shining moments. He would smile, perk up, and be eager to say the answer on some days. But his homework average and test average were pretty consistently abysmal: a 20% on homework and a 66% on tests. A teacher can and should help a struggling student. But there are some things s/he can't do: the teacher cannot do the student's homework for him/her. What wrenches my gut is the fine, fine line separating these two boys, the one who failed and the one who passed. I am not entirely convinced that the one who passed was any more deserving than "Joshua;" he simply came in more days for tutoring and his mother was very, very adamant and called almost daily to assure his progress. When it boils down to it, the student who escaped failing by the skin of his teeth simply had more parental surveillance and came to tutoring five more days than the failing student.

When I called Joshua's mom to be the bearer of bad tidings, I was anxious that she would contest me and defend her child. Of course she would; wouldn't any parent be defensive? And what would I say?  But she didn't pull that card at all. rather, her voice became heavy with disappointment. Silence hung between us on the phone line. "So he failed summer school...isn't that something?" she said. And then, "I understand." Truly, that was about it.

I am definitely unsure about how I will cope with having to fail a lot of students in these coming years. From what I gather, it's a regular and inevitable occurrence. And, I am also sure students' and parents' reactions won't be so "smooth" as they were this time. I also get disturbed when I think about the ripple effects failing a child will have. Will it make him or her see him/herself as a failure? Will it add momentum in their cycle of failure? I can only imagine that the experience of failure must be excruciating for a person. I'm sure some would say, no, they're used to it. But I can only sense that failing a subject in school is painful. How can there not be suffering involved? It affects how a child sees himself, his peers see him (if he's in a younger class), and possibly how his parents treat him. Also, I would imagine that it introduces a distrustful or antagonistic dynamic to future student-teacher relationships (that is, how the student thenceforth sees his teachers- destined to fail him). 

Surely, failure on a report card it is the proper consequence following from not doing one's work and not meeting a pre-set standard. On the other hand, Reggie Barnes' exclamation of "You can’t assume!" rings in my head, and makes me reconsider such a simple cause-effect rationalization as this. What if these students really have something inhibiting them from doing homework, and I just never know about it? How far do I need to go to help a student; does my responsibility end? Not that I want it to. I just don't know where that mark is. I cannot sit with two out of every 13 students and go through the whole homework step by step with them...can I?

Sometimes, I think I care more about students' grades than they do. But I also cannot tweak numbers to say what I wish they'd say. School really is an economy of getting what you earn. Is that really true - is it really such a "to each his own" system? Isn't there room for collective responsibility and uplift? Does it all fall on one teacher? My dream would be to institute a peer-tutoring system in my future classroom, because I already know there will be tutoring needs, and I suspect that a majority of the kids who need tutoring won't come and get it even if it's offered (unless hey have parents like the boy who passed in my class does).

When it comes to grades, I think there is a lot of ethics and wisdom required of the teacher, which I do not yet have. I want to get older and wiser. In this area I can feel my "immaturity" as a teacher the most. This is a topic I will be sure to pick my colleagues' brains on. What are their philosophies? Have their hearts becomes hardened to this micro-tragedy of each failing student, since it's so commonplace and, as I said before, inevitable? Or, are they pushovers, who do a disservice by passing a student who really doesn't get it, and who will be stuck with sub-par skills for many, many years, perhaps even the rest of her life, because one teacher put an premature end to the laborious task of learning? I can think of no greater disservice than robbing a teenager of the ability to write and read for pleasure and self-discovery/growth. I don't care if that sounds disgustingly corny, because I believe it's true. Not to mention that low literacy skills can't be good for a person's dignity. It feels so good to succeed and to be able - if eventual success comes at the cost of initial failure, I am much more for that.

But still, this sting of failing a student remains. Maybe it's just an aging process that a teacher gets seasoned to as s/he matures. 

July 19, 2008

My first reaction to my lesson was: phew! Whenever I pack a lot into 50 minutes, I am nervous for the lesson, but I am also more on the ball. This lesson easily could have filled a block. I was pleased with my lesson because it built on previous student work. Independent practice was the best part of the lesson. Students were highly engaged in it; they got to work immediately. When I let them loose to work, all their heads bent down, their pens cocked up, and they went to work right away! Transitions were no issue (I had a two-part independent practice), because I pre-paired peer editors. 

I noticed two major improvements in my teaching abilities since my June video. The first is my sense of time management. Not only was I right on track with my LP-projected times, I kept up with them in the real life lesson. I also gave students frequent updates on how much time they had left. The tempo of the class was good, and I frequently announced the class’s agenda- where we were headed and what we were doing next. Still, it saddened me that we ran out of time to conference. I could tell the students would have had it in them to have done more editing and revising. On the other hand, by keeping time tight, it pushed them to really focus and there was no leftover time for troublemakers to do anything with.

My second improvement is classroom management. Even through there were four tardies, I took immediate control of the classroom. My new tactic, writing names on the board, is the most effective. Few students tested me beyond that – they hate having their name on the board. And, I issued writing assignments on the spot: this is an improvement from my June days, when I lost track of warnings and failed to issue the punishment.

There is, of course, vast space for improvement. My instruction was, in my opinion, not very good. I bored myself watching it. Perhaps there is no way around boring instruction. I have no doubt that it was effective, though.  I think I should have shortened it by 3-4 minutes, to give more IP time. Also, my classroom movement was sufficient, but I think perhaps a little more movement during instruction would have been good. The projector is a useful way to keep yourself facing the classroom.

Which brings me to another major point of improvement: right after I dished out warnings, I turned my back on the class and spent about a minute straight writing on the board!! NOT OK! I need to learn the team teach, LP’s, technique of writing sideways, with my front side facing the class as I write.

A third way I could improve, and I cringed as I watched myself doing this, is to give formal directions to students, instead of just making a comment on the fly: “on the rubric page, circle a score, 1 through 4, for each category. Four for good, three for pretty good, two for needs some improvement, you get the idea...” I have to learn that I can’t just give directions on fly. I discovered how I had to clarify myself during IP as I walked around and monitored. This is not their fault, but mine. It would have been better to be CRYSTAL CLEAR directions up-front, rather than to have to keep repeating myself. This should be an easy problem to fix. It will simply require a little more prep.

Finally, my closure came after the bell. In the real school year, I won’t have the luxury of a class that stays put to hear it. I need to be extremely aware of the time towards the end, and not miss the closure (even sandwiched in the middle of IP, if possible).

Since June, my teaching style has evolved somewhat. I think the students get more work done per class period than they used to. At the same time, I don’t think my teaching itself has changed much. I am still passionate about the subject matter. I still use the silence questioning technique. I don’t think I have experimented enough with new ways of doing things. I would like to start trusting my students more to do more work on their own or in live pairs/groups, without me having to give them handouts for every little thing. Maybe that’s a misdiagnosis. But I do think I need to shake up my procedure flow/routine (in my LPs) a bit. Especially since I will be on the block (94-minute periods) in August.

From watching myself, I learned more than anything else that I should experiment with varied forms of guided practice. I also need to learn to instruct more concisely. As my team teacher pointed out to me (with regards to another lesson), Wong states, “the more understandable the sentence, the greater the chance that the student will do what is intended.”  What I glean from that advice and from watching my video, is that I need to refine the quality, quantity  and pacing of my student questioning. I should avoid leading questions and phrasing a question that puts me in a position to pull students’ teeth to get the answer out of them. I should also avoid excessive verbal quizzing of students, re-hashing the instruction material, when that leads to cutting down IP time too much. It’s a hard balance!

The number one thing I need to improve on as a teacher is simplifying my lessons. As Jeremy F. said, give "shotgun lessons," rather than lessons that attempt to cover too much terrain.  By far, my best (at least, better) lessons have been those that did not require back-breaking lesson planning. Their objectives and activities are simply conceived, crystal clear, crisp like a Colorado fall air. No need for over-complexity, bells and whistles, longwinded directions and a winding road to assessment. No, as E.S. (my June evaluator) taught me, simple is best. Sometimes the best lessons are when modeling, guided practice and IP all mirror each other, in triple symmetry or like a triple-header. 

Now, I am actively striving for simplicity. It is not as easy for me as one (or I) might expect. I am Queen of Diversions. Why is it important for me to make this a priority for improvement? For one, simple lessons open up room for the teacher to address students' different learning styles, instead of being wrapped up in delivering the maxiumum quantity of information in the minimum amount of time. See, that approach to teaching puts stress not only on the teacher, but on the students also. I think overcomplicating or overdoing content ruins a lesson. So, secondly, simplicity, second to effective classroom management, is what makes a lesson effective. As Wong & Wong say, a student will like a teacher who makes them able to complete the work (as opposed to a teacher who jams material down their throats and whirls formal assessments they're not ready for at them). The last thing I want to be is an exasperating teacher, and if I am not careful, I can see myself tending toward complicated lessons. So I will be vigilant. It is a true help to my students, and to my abilities as a teacher.

As a corollary to this improvement, and its necessary side-effect, I need to learn to plan lessons more quickly, to stay focused, and not pour too much time or energy into them (as usually, too much time= too complex). I have improved at this over these two months, but I still have a ways to go.  

My team teacher, Elizabeth, has been an attentive, helpful mentor this July. Three things she persistently teaches me are:

1.) to keep up with my warnings. I received this tip on nearly all my informal evals, and it caught up with me on formal eval #3. Finally, today, I cracked down in the beginning minutes of class and listed names on the board, and it made a HUGE difference. As a result, today was one of my most enjoyable classes to teach of the whole summer. Issuing more than one warning and not giving a deserved writing assignment, or worse, actually issuing a writing assignment verbally, then not issuing it physically, make me feel sick. So, I think I finally accepted Mrs. Y's advice for what it was worth: pure gold.

2.) to use Q & A within the instructional and modeling time-frame is not only unnecessary, but counter-productive. For instance, 5 minutes of pure instructin, followed by guided or group practice, is usually best. I am so inclined to teach by asking students questions, when really what they need is to be TAUGHT first of all, less they'll feel stupid when I ask them to tell me something I haven't taught them. My most effective lessons are marked by the clarity of my instructional time; my haphazard, too-packed, stressful lessons usually involve me catapulting clumsily into questioning strategies prematurely. Best to hold my horses for just a bit! It's true, when I think about it: my favorite teachers TAUGHT me something. They TALKED. They gave me CONTENT, substance, to work from. They didn't rely on me (as a student) to give awhat meager amount I had as the basis of the lesson.

3.) to integrate state testing questions, for bellringers and formal evaluation material. This is actually pretty easy, plus it wil warm students up to the test, so that they don't clam up when it's in front of them. The more used to it they get, the better I am serving them as their teacher! (though I will sawy, some of those questions even perplex me.)

July has been such a month of growth. I could write more here. I cannot wait to apply what I have learned in August. I am nervous for breaking into the schoolyear, but endlessly excited about getting into the swing of things. Today was such a great day of teaching, and I really do believe it was on account of lesson #1 (listed above).

I feel like this post is 5 weeks overdue. I’ve wanted to write (something un-required) forever. I’ll start in a random place, and hopefully some flow will emerge. I have determined that, from here on out, I will call such posts “catching up.” I will keep myself from writing too much, however. I need to learn restraint in writing. I am never concise!

This week began with a stomach-drop. One of our students was expelled because of too many absences. I learned that it was because his mother was in the hospital. As we took him out in the hall to tell him, this look of resignation swept across his face. He only raised one weak protest: “You’re telling me I need to leave?” And I just sat there, watching the event unravel. On the subject of expulsion, I also learned that in the classroom next door (8^th grade English), a girl was expelled because her mother’s check bounced and so the family could not pay for summer school. And this girl was a decent student. “She’s a case where she is bound to fail purely because of family circumstances,” commented my friend, her teacher. What can a teacher do but stand aside and watch these disappointments swell and adversely affect children who otherwise have the ability to succeed? What is the cut-off for a teacher’s responsibility? In some way or another, these are examples of injustice. To be a spectator is troubling.

Calculating grades for students is also an exercise in disappointment. I am surprised when I look at their overall percentages when I type grades in. “So and so, she has a C?” I think to myself in disbelief. “But surely she’s at least a B student...” I wonder how I will deal with this during the school year. Obviously, I can’t just rig grades so that kids get the grades I predetermine they should have.  That’s unethical. At the same time, I feel disappointment in their grades probably more than they do. How do I cope with this? And keep myself from assisting them too much? (Am I asking the wrong questions?)

On a final note: an update that I promised in an earlier post that I’d give: I am, in fact, reading more than I used to. I think time management is improving, slowly. I am making my way through three books: Coming of Age in Mississippi (40 pages left), The Cost of Discipleship and Speak. Oh, part of me does still ache, in fact, it aches more deeply than before, that I won’t be teaching English in the fall (but social studies instead)... At first, new life circumstances and responsibilities tend to agitate me, but with time, I realize that they are good things. So now my task is to learn as much about MS as possible in 3 weeks!

Friday, July 04, 2008

As I write this reflection, I’m listening to India.Arie’s  song, “Video.” In truth, its lyrics are not really applicable here, but it’s laughable to think of a teacher in terms of an actor or performer. Not quite... (although I did laugh at one instance in which I heard myself sound like the monotone, slow and drab English teacher in Ferris Bueller’s Day Off: “If the sun is siiiiinking, it makes me think of a boat sinking, which is baaaad, because if the sun sinks, then the snow won’t melt.”)

My initial reaction to my lesson was, “what a relief that this lesson is so much better than my lesson on Friday!” I saw myself bounce back.  I was in my element teaching this lesson on imagery, versus my muddled, over-done lesson on transition sentences. I could see that there was certainty in my delivery that was missing in that prior lesson.  That might pose a problem for this self-evaluation, because every lesson I teach won’t be a topic I relish. It would have been better to film myself teaching something I am neutral about. But imagery, I love this stuff.

Strengths:

·         Bellringer. I love DOL (daily oral language), and I am pretty sure it showed. The kids got into it too. They were on-task from the start. It’s a great bellringer for high levels of participation.

·         Classroom management. Gave short warnings when they were “merited.”

·         Set. I got seven students to speak up. I wrung description out of them, too. I got a glimpse of their imaginations (“yeah, but what does cotton candy taste like?” “raspberries...bubblegum...”). And, my favorite part of the set: students giggled. I went with the laughing instead of silencing it, because it was contained laughter. Plus, isn’t that a good sign of a good set? [I’ll admit I was a little afraid that the students were laughing at me, perhaps at the cheesiness of describing a carnival, but it was better to play along than go against the laughter!]

·         Confidence. I had a grip on the subject and the students. It was fun. If I had fun, maybe they had (at least an ounce of) fun, too.

·         I remembered to go over the daily agenda. I have a bad habit of usually forgetting this.

·         I taught vocab words along the way: Engaging. (I should make a word wall and use periodic vocab quizzes)

·         I announced how I would be grading the formal assessment (IP classwork) and wrote idiot-proof instructions on the board. As a result, the quality of the students’ work was VASTLY IMPROVED compared to when I did not give idiot-proof instructions on the board. Six students scored perfectly or almost perfectly on the assignment.

·         I hammered at the objective. (I asked them, “How does this make the poem effective?” over and over and over again)

Weaknesses:

·         At the start, my transitions were really choppy. I went from bellringer to set, set to preview, preview to objective like a softball player attempting ballet. I had a student pass out worksheets after we were ready to use them, causing almost a whole wasted minute.

·         A persistent weakness of my lessons: imbalanced time management (instruction + guided practice > independent practice). I need to start treating IP as the most precious part of the 50 miunutes.

·         I was totally surprised by how I move around the room like a maniac. I am constantly racing around the room, from the overhead, to the table by the board, to the board, to the sleeping student’s side, etc. I think it comes to the point of distraction, rather than being a good circulation tactic.

·         I need to stop saying, “does that sound right?” as the way to teach grammar. My students will always say, “sure, that sounds fine.” I should have just stuck with the real reason I gave earlier (“cover up Jessica, then read it: ‘Him decided to go to Memphis,’ or ‘He decided to go to Memphis’?)

·         Favoring the vocal students. I entirely (and unconsciously) skipped over Marquires, a very bright student. I think each student spoke once in class, but some definitely spoke too much. (But it’s so easy to call on students who will say something helpful to my point!!!!) This negatively affects my informal assessment – I only caught those students who are regularly afloat, and let the others pass under the radar and sink.

·         Poor management of sleepy students. I entirely missed one student snoozing during GP.

·         My closure was mid-delivery at the bell, and went 10-seconds past it. Not good.