One Child at a Time

How easily we lose what our founding fathers fought to win when we fail to recognize the loss of freedom, especially as it occurs in our public schools.      

 One Child at a Time

     The door opened, and the new teacher stepped into the classroom, focusing on the class of twenty-two third graders sitting upright, rigid and unblinking.  She searched their faces for the anticipation and interest that would help them fall in love with her new ideas, her well-thought out lessons, and her kind heart, captured in her soft smile. At least that is what she hoped for.  The new teacher sensed an uneasiness in the children, a strangeness.  “Of course, they are uneasy,” she thought.  “Everything is about to change."
     Before she could dwell much longer on the peculiar behavior of the children, the door opened again. This time the principal, Ms. James, entered quickly, moving to the front of the room and bumping the new teacher ever so slightly with her bulging hips.  The new teacher’s cheeks grew hot and pink, and the children, unlike Ms. James, felt her discomfort.
     “Good morning, children.”
     “Good morning, Ms. James,” the children chorused as they welcomed the end of the awkward moment.
     “This is Ms. Thomas, your new teacher.  Please show her how happy you are that she is here.”
     “Welcome to our class, Ms. Thomas,” they said without a single voice out of sync.
    “My,” started Ms. Thomas, “I think you must have practiced that greeting a great deal!  You said it perfectly together!”
     She smiled, eyes sparkling and full of life as the thought of giving them her very best lessons in math and art and history and language and science washed over her and made her reel with excitement.  This was the day for which she had waited her whole life, the day that she would have her own classroom, her own students, and a chance to share the knowledge she had ferreted away just for them.
     “I am so very happy to be your teacher,” she bubbled.  “I have so many things I want to teach you!  Do any of you have any questions before we start our day?”
     A deafening silence blanketed the room as the students stared back at the new teacher.  Ms. Thomas smiled her nervous smile then glanced at Ms. James.  Ms. James simply stood and stared at the children as if to signal that no questions would be necessary.  Still, one small hand at the back of the room slowly appeared among the group.
     “Yes - um - I’m sorry, I don’t know your name,” Ms. Thomas said.
    “I - my name - that is - My name is Lucy, and I’m new, too,” the tiny voice spoke.  It suited the thin, dark-skinned girl whose eyes were noticeably different from all the others.
     “Wonderful!  Then we will learn how everything works around here together,” Ms. Thomas said with a lilt in her tone that surprised the children.
     “Yes, of course, you will,” interrupted Ms. James.  “That is what happens with all new teachers and new students. Isn’t it class?  They all learn how things work in our school.”
     “Yes, Ms. Jones,” they said in unison.
     Another hand shot into the air.
     “Yes, Joshua, do you have something you’d like to say?”  This time it was Ms. James who called on the student.
     “Yes, Ms. James.  I was wondering if we would be starting our lesson now.  We are already five minutes behind, and we haven’t even said the school pledge.”
     Ms. Thomas looked quizzically at Ms. James who understood and responded before the question could even be asked.  “Ms. Thomas, we do not say the ‘Pledge of Allegiance’ in our school because it may offend some of our students and staff, so we only pledge our allegiance to our school.  We all love our school, right boys and girls?”
     “Yes, Ms. James.”  All of the voices rang loud and clear, except for Lucy.  She stayed fearfully quiet, as did Ms. Thomas.
     “Shall we show Ms. Thomas and Lucy how we do this?” asked Ms. James.
     “Yes, Ms. James.”
     The children, all dressed the same and wearing the same expressionless faces, rose as one and extended their right hands toward a picture of the superintendent of schools that hung front and center on the wall above the chalkboard and recited in dreary monotone voices:
     “We pledge allegiance to our school, an extension of the state and of the country in which we live, and we promise to work hard every day to learn only that which will help us pass the state exam so that every student will be equal and the same in every way so that our citizens will always be equal and the same in every way.  We pledge in the name of our beloved and most honorable superintendent of our school, our global representative.”
     Ms. Thomas stared in disbelief and fear.  Wasn’t this the school from which she had graduated just a few short years before?  Wasn’t this the school where she discovered her dream as she watched her teachers - her heroes - work their magic on their students by inviting them to shoot for the stars and then helping them build rockets to get there?  Wasn’t this the school that all other schools had once held in high esteem as the one that was different and special and independent?  Wasn’t this the school she had dreamed of returning to so that she could be a part of something unique and wonderful and excellent?
     “Do you understand our pledge, Ms. Thomas?” asked Ms. James.
     “Perfectly,” Ms. Thomas replied.
     “Good.  Then, I will leave you to your class.”  With that, the principal with the bulging hips left the room, closing the door behind her.
     Consumed in utter sadness and despair at what had just occurred and what had become of her precious alma mater, Ms. Thomas did what great teachers do; she looked for hope in the faces of the children, but all that stood before her were tiny robots with shark eyes, devoid of thought and imagination, products of collaboration and consensus and collectivism, except for one.
     Lucy glowed with the beauty of difference, and Ms. Thomas knew that all hope lay in this one child, a child not yet indoctrinated by the new curriculum and the new philosophy and the new way of eating away at a nation that was founded in independence of thought and rebellion against those who wanted to control it.  Ms. Thomas breathed in the Spirit of 1776 and set her sights on the Lucy’s of the world so that the way of life she had come to love would not be destroyed one child at a time. 

           

           

           

           

           

In the Business of Dreams: A Tribute to Teachers

          Wow!  Is the school year really almost over?  It is indeed a great pleasure to be writing to some of my favorite kinds of people, teachers.  I like people who are just a little odd, a bit peculiar, all right – just weird.  You’re not even offended by that, are you?  Okay, that’s weird, too.  I mean, you are about to get this great summer break, and what do you do? I suppose you’re a lot like most teachers.  In June, you wind down by sipping iced tea, spending time with your own kids, and thinking about the kids who just left you.  Did you do enough with them?  Say enough to them?   Teach everything they will need to make it in the next grade?  Laugh enough with them?  Discipline them enough to make the next teacher’s job a little easier?  Love them enough to get them through the summer, especially the ones who need it the most?  

         In July, you find yourself doing things that “outsiders” will never understand, such as: going to the restroom when you actually need to go, taking at least 25 minutes to eat lunch, reprimanding other people’s children in the mall and grocery store, taking your own kids to swim camp, horse camp, dance camp, basketball camp, and feeling compelled to make everyone line up and use their six-inch voices; squeezing in a family vacation, where you haunt little shops and out-of-town dollar stores for “imported” stuff for your classroom, and finally getting around to doctor’s appointments, vet appointments, and automobile maintenance that are overdue because you didn’t like leaving your school kids with a sub.  

         In August, you turn into a crazed, obsessed shopper. You hit Half Price Books looking for those one-of-a-kind publications that will be perfect for this unit or that one.  I’ve even seen teachers snatch such a find right out from under the nose of an unsuspecting mom!  Ah, the typical, browsing parent can’t hold a candle to a teacher in a bookstore with a mission.  Then you hit every Walmart, Walgreens, and HEB in the metro area to stock up on crayons for 25 cents a box, packages of 2 for a dollar pencils and 20 cent notebook paper, quarter glue, dollar markers, 50 cent map pencils.  You know why they’ve put that “LIMIT 6” sign on the school supplies, don’t you?  It’s because of people like YOU!  Yes, you are a peculiar lot…God love you.      

    

         What in the world is this thing called “education” that makes perfectly rational human beings turn into such oddballs?  Maybe this 1927 definition of “education” will give us a clue.  It defines education as the drawing out of a person’s innate talents and abilities by imparting the knowledge of languages, scientific reasoning, history, literature, rhetoric, etc.—the channels through which those abilities would flourish and serve.  It kind of makes you feel like Plato or Socrates or Aristotle or the Dalai Lama, doesn’t it?  You just know that you have a higher calling.  Since the rest of the world can’t really fathom the way we educators take that definition to heart, they often take it upon themselves to try to define what we do in their own terms. 

Take the media, for example; they try to define education by looking for someone to blame for the ills of society.  We fellow educators are somehow responsible for the drop-out rate, the teen pregnancy rate, the drug addiction rate, the unemployment rate, the welfare rate, the decline of morality, childhood obesity, the national debt…  You get the idea.  It just seems that everyone has an opinion about what we do or should do or should not do or should pay someone to do.  

Even Hollywood takes a shot at us now and again.  Do you remember the scene in the movie City Slickers where Norman, the orphaned calf, is being held hostage by two cowhands who have had a little too much to drink?  In Billy Crystal’s attempt to coax Norman out of his captors’ hands, he says, “Norman, have you been bothering the cowboys again?  You know, you raise them; you try to teach them right from wrong, but they learn these things from their friends.  I mean, it’s the school systems.”

Sometimes, believe it or not, the parents of the little darlings we teach do indeed have ideas about what our jobs should entail.  One particular story from a few years back instantly comes to mind.  I was walking into Walmart one day and happened to overhear a man on the pay phone near the entrance.  In his heated conversation with his daughter he said, “Hey, young lady, don’t talk to me that way; I’m your father.  Don’t those teachers at that school teach you anything?”  I considered kicking him in the knee, but I kind of hated to go that far. 

At least when Benjamin Franklin criticized the universities of the day, he had the decency to create his own school and walk the walk himself.  When Franklin established his academy, the first non-sectarian college in America, he dreamed of an institution that would cultivate in its scholars “an inclination joined with an ability to serve mankind, one’s country, friends, and family.”  That, Franklin declared “should indeed be the great aim and end of all learning.”  Wow!  I like the sound of that!  Educating the young minds of our world is an awesome task that is well worth performing - and worth performing well.

Have you noticed that I have called you “educators,” not “teachers”?  Have you felt somehow just a little more important because of that even though the words are synonyms?  I want you to think of yourselves as educators, with all the glory and power and respect that is conjured up by the term.  Having said that, however, I want you to remember that your students will never say things like: “Hey, who’s the cute new educator in the science wing?” or “I love my art educator” or “I hate that mean ol’ educator.”  Nope, your students will always call you “teacher”, a title that carries the human element of what we do.   Perhaps it is this very thing that makes teaching so difficult to define.  You see, it is not like most professions.  It is an art, defined not by a set of skills, but by the beauty and value of the final product.  To me, even though I am retired, teaching is a way of life, practiced by many but understood by few.  Perhaps this misunderstanding about what teaching is occurs because each of us enters the profession for a different reason:  some for the love of a particular subject, others for the love of kids, still others for the love of the Christmas and summer breaks.  For me, I suppose it was all of these, coupled with a need for order and escape.

You see, I grew up in a home that was chaotic at the very least.  As a little girl, my only solace came from disappearing into a dream world created by my sister.  Unfortunately for me, she was older and was able to go to school before I did.  I cried every morning when she got on the bus, checked the bus stop throughout the day to see if she had returned home, and tore down the long, dusty driveway to meet her when she finally arrived.  Then, hand-in-hand we would drag ourselves back to the war zone we called “home”.

It was our routine to slip into the house, unnoticed if possible, and retreat to our room.  There my sister would turn into my fairy godmother and transform our haven into a classroom.  She would seat the second-hand dolls and raggedy teddy bears in rows on the floor facing a rickety old upright chalkboard given to us by our grandmother.  Then, she would let me choose where I wanted to sit; I always sat in the front.  

After she had her “class” settled, she would ask us to stand and say “The Pledge of Allegiance” (I really can’t remember a time when I didn’t know it).  Then she would announce, “Now, class, we are going to practice our letters” or “our numbers” or “our word list”.  Whatever she had learned that day at school, she taught me when she got home.  By the time I entered kindergarten, I could easily read the Dick and Jane primer and do basic arithmetic.  I didn’t realize it then, but the “bud” of my dream was starting to emerge amidst the adverse conditions of poverty.

From then on I was in awe of teachers.  I studied every part of them:  the way they dressed, the manner in which they directed us to do our work, how they controlled our every move, and even how they disciplined the kids like Michael Kirk, the big bad bully in my first-grade class.  And, like everyone in this room, I grew to love some of my teachers very much.

One teacher I’ll never forget is Sheila Waterman, my seventh-grade English teacher.  I couldn’t wait to go to her class each day which was held in Room 17 of the old Flour Bluff Junior High building.  Ah, Room 17!  Even now the memories of the people and events rush to the forefront of my brain each time I think of it.

I can still see Miss Waterman scanning the room with her sharp, black eyes, catching every off-task move made by her typical 7^th-grade students.  I can still hear the Click! Click! Click!  of her pointy-toed high hills on the old wooden floor as she patrolled the room during a lesson.  I loved the clean smell of her.  I admired the stylishness of her crisp, clean clothes and black, widow-streaked hair, admired the “little general” stance she took when dealing with the troublemakers of my 7^th-grade year, and appreciated her no-nonsense, straightforward way of correcting or commending us.  And what I liked most of all was that she allowed us to think, not to parrot her views or the views of our parents, but to develop our own, personal opinions.   Freedom to express my thoughts gave me strength and a desire to read and find out if anyone else felt as I did.  Miss Waterman opened an escape hatch for me and offered me a life that, until then, I thought was out of reach for a girl from the wrong side of the tracks.  I wanted to be like her.  My dream of becoming a teacher had begun to take a definite shape.  

I can’t even begin to describe to you how my head reeled when I walked back into Room 17 ten years later.  I returned not as a former student visiting my favorite teacher, but as a bonafide, first-year, seventh-grade English teacher getting to live my dream in the exact same room where I had met my role model (and it came complete with a male classmate’s giant spit wad still stuck to that ten-foot ceiling).  

As a side note, it may interest you to know that the sharp-witted, ever-vigilant Miss Waterman, who never taught a lesson without explaining to us how the knowledge she was imparting would help us in our real lives, is alive and well and teaching ESL students at Texas A & M Corpus Christi.  Some of you may know her as Sheila Colwell.  And just for the record, she punished my classmate that very day when he decided to launch his record-breaking spit wad and attach it permanently to the ceiling of Room 17.  He had to write a paper on how his simple, mindless act would affect all who came into contact with “the wad”.  I thought it a fitting punishment, one that required immediate reflection on his behavior and one that I later used myself in similar situations with my students.

Of course, there have been other teachers, friends, family members, bosses, colleagues, and even students who helped me continue to live in my dream world.  For their guidance, leadership, and life lessons, I am eternally grateful.  I am still amazed at how, for 28 years, I was allowed to go to work each day, have the time of my life (except on in-service days), and get a paycheck every month for it.  How cool is that?

Teaching is a calling.  When we are called, like dutiful soldiers, we must strap on our armor, collect our weapons, and march bravely into the war against violence and poverty and ignorance.  No matter what the media says, no matter how many people complain about “those teachers,” you must realize that ours is an honorable profession and one that cannot be replaced by a computer.  Can a computer really be a Miss Waterman?  Can it really solve the problems in our classrooms?  

And, yes, we have problems in the classroom.  However, if we see these problems as opportunities, then we certainly can change the world one kid at a time, and every seemingly menial task will take on a new face.  Having the opportunity to put a misguided youth on the right path by first putting him in his place and then helping him find his place isn’t easy, but it is worthwhile.  Living on a teacher’s salary isn’t a walk in the park either, but I can promise you that your job will be rewarding, if you let it.  Teaching will give you more fun and power than you may ever need or want.

Did I say “power” again?  Yes, I believe I did.  It is that very thing that has everyone interested to some degree in what we do and how we are doing it. In Iraq – and in countries with similar governments - teachers are being targeted by the insurgents.  Why would the lowly teacher be attacked so viciously?  The reasons given in this 2005 Corpus Christi Caller-Times newspaper article will explain:

            “Teachers represent the future.  Their work is educating

the next generation.  Schools, which in Iraq are mostly undefended,

reflect a society’s optimism in itself, and the high value such a

society places on education, learning, and thinking.  These values

are the antithesis of what the insurgents stand for.  They don’t

want young Iraqis who think and reason.  They want unthinking

fanatics who strap on bombs”  (Corpus Christi Caller-Times,

           October 1, 2005).

As teachers, you have the power to save a child, to create a better society, to change the world we live in, and to alter the future.   But, know that from time to time in your illustrious career you will run into parents who will make you pray that you could morph into a pit bull, and you’ll work for administrators who already have. You will have students in your class who think that the parts of speech are lungs and air; that H2O is hot water and that CO2 is cold water; that the four seasons are salt, pepper, mustard, and vinegar; that adolescence is the stage between puberty and adultery; that the pyramids are a range of mountains between France and Spain; that “RRRRRR, matey” is a word beginning with the letter r; that x is found simply by circling it twice and writing “Here it is”; that Charles Darwin proved that man was created BY apes in a book called The Original Species (later made into a sci-fi movie just named Species); and that Sir Francis Drake circumcised the world with a 100-foot clipper.  (Ah, thank you, Richard Lederer, for collecting these gems for posterity’s sake!)

At times like these, you may consider getting out of the business completely, sadly something that one third of new teachers do within five years of entering it.  When these thoughts enter your head, think of the ones who call you “teacher”.  Perhaps Pat Conroy, teacher and writer, said it best: “There is no word in the language I revere more than ‘teacher’; my heart sings when a kid refers to me as his teacher, and it always has.  I’ve honored myself and my whole family by becoming one.”

In closing, I have a favor to ask.  I would like for you to make a promise to yourself by repeating after me this slight re-wording of Peter Parker’s final piece of advice to himself in the movie Spiderman.  Are you ready?

            “Whatever life holds in store for me, I will never forget these words:  With great power comes great responsibility.  This is my gift, my curse.”  Who am I?  I am a teacher, and I am in the business of dreams.

God bless teachers of all levels everywhere today and every day of the year!

A Question of Curriculum

     I have been absent for a few months, and I am feeling writer's guilt!  I have been in research mode, reading about all kinds of curriculum programs that exist in our country (and in others).  There is a plethora of these creatures out there. I would like to get your input.  If you have the time (and teachers rarely do), I would appreciate knowing what curriculum you use and how it is working or not working for you.  Also, if you could design your own curriculum, what would you take into consideration before doing so? 

And Then There Were None

     I recently read an article about the sad state of affairs in the world of aviation.  It seems that hardly any pilots exist anymore who can manually fly a plane.  Most completely rely upon computers to do the flying for them.  In an AP article by Joan Lowy from August of 2011, the following was related:

          "A draft FAA study found pilots sometimes 'abdicate too much responsibility to automated systems.' Because these systems are so integrated in today's planes, one malfunctioning piece of equipment or a single bad computer instruction can suddenly cascade into a series of other failures, unnerving pilots who have been trained to rely on the equipment. The study examined 46 accidents and major incidents, 734 voluntary reports by pilots and others as well as data from more than 9,000 flights in which a safety official rode in the cockpit to observe pilots in action. It found that in more than 60 percent of accidents, and 30 percent of major incidents, pilots had trouble manually flying the plane or made mistakes with automated flight controls. A typical mistake was not recognizing that either the autopilot or the auto-throttle — which controls power to the engines — had disconnected. Others failed to take the proper steps to recover from a stall in flight or to monitor and maintain airspeed. 'We're forgetting how to fly,' said Rory Kay, an airline captain and co-chairman of a Federal Aviation Administration committee on pilot training."  

     That's when it occurred to me!  This is precisely what has been happening in the field of education as more and more school districts turn to the latest and greatest curriculum program or piece of technology to do the "flying" for them instead of relying upon the teachers who can still do it for themselves.  As it stands right now, we have many great teachers who know what and how to teach without the aid of an "automatic pilot."  But how long can that last?  As these master teachers retire or move into more lucrative lines of work, with them will go their expertise, their insight, and their much-needed mentorship. One would think that school districts would do everything in their power to glean all the knowledge and teaching strategies they can from these folks before they leave the profession.  Sadly, that is not what is happening. In some cases, they are even being forced to teach according to a "model" plan and style, one that may or may not work.  (Isn't it interesting how the powers that be in education can see that kids need individualized instruction but fail to see that teachers need to express their own individuality in order to provide this for their students?)

     

     Perhaps those who are reading this are wondering why anyone would pay large sums of money for something that they already pay teachers to do.  Perhaps those same people are wondering why the teachers with the best test scores, the highest standards, and most knowledge in their fields of study are not regularly asked how they achieve the results they get.  This writer is wondering that herself, and she fears the day when the last great educator is pushed aside to make room for a one-size-fits-all method of teaching that may be able to "fly" during times of fair weather, but what will schools do when the storms hit (that one kid or group of kids who need something different at the spur of the moment) or the instruments fail  (a power failure or breakdown in the system) or funding is cut (no more money for the expensive programs)? The teacher who has been using the automatic pilot will most assuredly panic and crash.   The master teacher will calmly take control and simply fly the plane, bringing everyone in for a three-point landing.

     So, what is the answer?  School districts should do all they can to allow the great ones to co-pilot the  ship until the new "pilots" are able fly on their own.  Master teachers working alongside the novice offer a "safe flight" for all as they offer tips and strategies and tricks of the trade to get everyone on board through the difficult flights. These folks have depth of knowledge and a full understanding of what must happen in their classrooms with their students.  They know how to maneuver through the rough spots and continue to fly because they have logged thousands of hours in the "cockpit." If education continues to promote the "automatic pilot" method of teaching, within a few short years the number of pilots who can fly the plane manually will be depleted, and in just a few more years - there will be none.  

     

      

      

Free Our School Counselors!

     Over the years I have had the privilege of knowing many school counselors.  They are kind people who choose to help the hurting and broken and lost.  Many start as teachers (since that is a requirement in most states) and put in their classroom hours so that they can live out their dreams of helping kids.  That worked well twenty-five years ago, but now they find themselves as test coordinators and monitors more than anything else. This saddens me greatly.

     When this happens, it leaves a huge void in the schools.  There was a time when a child in need could get a pass from the teacher and head to the office to visit with the counselor.  Now, they show up at the office, are asked to sign up for an appointment, and are sent back to class without any help (though immediate help may be what they need).  Counselors can't be blamed for this.  It is one of the many side effects of standardized testing.  I can still see the face of one of the best school counselors I ever knew when she said, "Gosh, I just wish they would let me see kids when kids need to see me!  I did not get into this to give a standardized test!"  

      When we remove these very valuable folks from their "natural habitat," we lose all the way around.  Teachers do not always have the time or the expertise to handle the kinds of emotional issues that arise in the all-American kid, and administrators have a more authoritarian relationship with the kids on a campus.  As a result, our kids are left to their own devices and often fall into lifestyles that are not always good for them, and they drag their friends in behind them while the school counselor watches sadly from behind a pile of test booklets.  Surely there is a better way to test our children without leaving them to seek help from those who are not experts in the field. 

A Suggestion for the First Week of "School

     Below is a little plan I devised for getting to know my kids in a quick and easy way while not wasting valuable class time.  Hopefully there will be something here that you can use to make your life a little easier and gather some important information about your students, as well.

Day 1:  Let the kids sit anywhere for the first four days.  This allows you to see who is chummy with whom and who is a loner.  Let them know your specific expectations.  I suggest you put them in the form of a letter that you send home to the parents and post it on your teacher page of your district website, as well.  In your letter, outline your classroom discipline policy, grading procedures, major projects for the year, weighting of tests and homework, late work policy,  supplies, contact information, conference time, etc.  (Offer bonus points on the first test if the letters are returned and signed by a parent.)  Create a folder for each kid and put this signed letter, sample work, and any other documentation in the folder; this folder will help you with parent conferences later in the year.  Make notes about specific students on your seating chart.

Day 2:  Ask for signed letters. Make your first assignment.  I suggest one that can be started in class but must be finished at home. Keep it simple but make it pertinent to your class.  (Remember:  They may not have a book to take home yet, so it can’t be dependent on the text.)  Make it due on Thursday.  This allows you to watch them work which will reveal how they work.  It also allows you to see who is going to misbehave and with whom. Let them know that you will be calling home if the homework assignment is not turned in on Thursday.  Continue to make notes about students on seating chart.

Day 3: Ask for signed letters.  Pass out textbooks along with a teacher-made test that quizzes them over the parts of the book (i.e. index, glossary, table of contents, chapter headings, reading checks).  DO NOT OFFER ASSISTANCE.  Set a time limit and watch to see who is not keeping up.  This little activity will let you see who works independently, who constantly asks his neighbor or you, and who can’t use a book.  While they are taking the quiz, go student to student and record textbook numbers and write their names in the books yourself (assuming you are issuing textbooks). That way when you have a book check, all you have to do is look for your handwriting.  You won’t have to the check the numbers.  Remind students that the homework assignment is due on Thursday.  Grade the textbook quiz in class and take the grade.  Continue with notes about students.

Day 4:  Ask for signed letters. Have students take out their homework, exchange, and grade. (This allows you to see who follows directions and listens the first time.) Take note of all students who do not have the homework and let them know that you will be calling their parents.  Make sure you make all calls by Friday. That way they will know you mean business about homework.  Allow students to get into groups of 4 or 5.  Then, give them an open-book vocabulary test with 20 to 25 words unique to your subject.  This activity will let you see who does and does not work well in groups.  It will save you a lot of time and heartache later.  Make your seating chart tonight based on your notes. Make parent phone calls for missing homework.

Day 5:  Last day to turn in signed letters. Put your kids into their new seating arrangement.  Then, play the Name Game.  Start with the first kid.  He says, “My name is John.”  The next kid says, “He’s John, and I’m Sam.”  The next says, “That’s John, Sam, and I am Sally.”  This continues until every kid has called all the names.  You will go last.  This helps you and the kids learn everyone’s name.  It also helps you see which kids have difficulty with this simple memory task.  Finally, end the period by having everyone read aloud from the text (2-3 sentences each).  This allows you to detect basic reading problems. 

      

     This all seems so simple, but I assure you the information you receive will be invaluable as you start the new year.  It is easily adaptable to your specific grade and subject, and it allows you to detect strengths and weaknesses within a relatively short period of time.  If you have some little tips of the trade, please share them with your fellow teachers, either on this site or in person.  They will be so grateful!  Good luck on yet another great school year!

A Great Teacher: A Follow-Up to "Key to the Future" Post

      I feel compelled to define the term "great teacher," since I used it so casually in my last blog.  Here is MY definition: one who makes an honest assessment of the needs of another human being and assists that person in finding ways to fulfill those needs.  Notice, I said nothing about age, education, certification, or experience.  Great teachers do not always come with degrees, nor do they always come with lots of experience. Can you think of a "great teacher" in your life who taught you something that somehow helped you solve a problem or accomplish a task or reach a goal?  Please share your story.