Chapter 10: Winter Break is Coming

When I was younger, snow days were the single greatest thing on the face of the planet. It was like Christmas, my birthday, and my sister's birthday (because, when you're the younger sibling, you're expected to tag along and enjoy the ride) all rolled into one, with the added fun of it being a complete and total surprise. My sister and I would even do snow dances together to try and get the weather to cooperate.

In that last respect, things have not exactly...changed.

I will also say that snow days are still completely awesome. They are filled with relaxation, books, baking, video games (so...much...Mario Party...), and movies.

So...my taste's can be a little...interesting?

An apple-vanilla pie, sprinkled with cinnamon.

Obligatory picture from my walk. Not pictured: ICE OF DEATH!!

Which all goes to say that I've been enjoying my two extra-days of Winter Break. True, Portland Public took forever to decide not to have school on Thursday, but that's neither here nor there.

Having said that, I'm also kind of disappointed. See, Portland is probably going to add days on to the end of the year to make up for these missed days. However, my time with my kids is much more limited, because my student teaching only goes until April 21st, meaning that these are two-days I will not be getting back.

I really like my kids. I mean, I say that about every group of students that I've ever had, and I mean it every time. It always makes me sad to leave them, and I am always cognizant of how little time I have. So, going into this position, I knew that I would get about seven months to be a part of their lives. In those seven months, I would make whatever impact I was going to make, teach them whatever lessons I was going to teach, and help however I was going to help them.

And now, I have lost two precious days.

My personal philosophy of teaching is that the class works best when the students have some input, and material relates back to them. It kind of means that my lesson plans aren't planned out too far in advance, and that nothing is ever glued down until the last time that I teach it (like Tuesday, when I completely threw out my lesson plan about two-hours before my class because I had the inkling of something better, which turned out amazing). However, these past three weeks I have been a bit more overbearing than I like. Basically, over Thanksgiving break I planned out three weeks worth of material--which is way more in advance than I usually do things--and...I would say that it didn't work out as well as usual, because I feel as though I wasn't giving the kids input. I also diverged from the lesson flow that I'd developed over the passed month.

This last Friday, though, was going to change all of that. We were going to end on a day filled with things that they'd showed interest in. We were going to learn the chorus for the Latin-America-Spanish version of, "Let it Go," and how to tie bow ties. I cannot say how excited I was for that lesson. And now...I may never get to teach it. I want to teach the kids these things, but I don't know when I'll get to do it.

*Sigh*

Lesson learned. I do need to work on finding more ways to let the kids have more roles in class. I'm toying with having kids lead the story creation, with me just there to translate and turn it all into excellent Spanish, and having students draw pictures to help create a Spanish-English class dictionary to add to their Google Classroom. Basic ideas to toy around with, so we'll see if anything comes of them.

One last bit of my personal philosophy.

A lot of teachers use tangible rewards. You do well, you get candy/ a key chain/ the bones of an archeopteryx to divine the future (and yes, Firefox dictionary, that is a word). Personally, I'm more about giving kids experiences. It might be because I like collecting them (why else would I scurry out in the middle of a snow-storm, winds howling away, just to see what my usual walk in the park would be like under those conditions? Or ride my bike through below freezing conditions to school? Or put ketchup and cottage cheese on a peanut butter and jelly sandwich?). It could also be that experiences last longer than material things. At the end of the day, given the choice, I will give my students an experience to last them a life time. That's why I made sure to let my kids out to play in the snow for the last few minutes of the last two periods of my day. I even made a deal with them, where if they focused they could go out. It's amazing how great kids act when they have something to work towards. My only regret is that I didn't give the same incentive to my fourth period class. But that was the end of two days of awkward lessons for that class, because that's what they wanted, and that's what they were interested in.

This has been another adventure in the austentatious. If you liked it, tell your friends; if you hated it, tell your enemies; and if you don't care either way, then tell everyone. Good night, and stay warm.

Chapter 9: Shake and Shiver

With shivering fingers the color of a child's ocean, our hero laboriously types out each little letter, letting language convey each idea. Will he ever be warm? Will the sun come again? Or has the world fallen into eternal winter? Our hero will fight on against the darkness, and bring again the days of sun and Summer.

OK, so it's not that cold. In fact, I haven't even turned on my heater tonight.

Last week was a different story.

So, for those who don't know, Portlanders are really weird when it comes to snow. For most of the US, when they get snow, life goes on. It might be life at a slightly slower speed, but it's still a speed none the less. For Portland, however, everything stops when there's even a hint of...this:

heeee :)

Or this:

heeeee :D

Or, horror of horrors, this:

EEEEEE! :D

I still get excited looking at those pictures. And it was because of the threat of all that snow that school on Thursday was canceled. On Wednesday night.

Which is really unusual.

Normally, when there's a threat of snow, the school's wait until the morning of to make the decision to a) have school as normal, b) have a two hour delay, or c) cancel everything and bunker down like the apocalypse is coming. Imagine my surprise, then, when PPS (Portland Public Schools) canceled the night before. It was a miracle. I could turn off my 6:30 alarm! I could sleep in!

Until 4:30am.

I guess you could say that I was a little excited for the snow.

So, I spent the day either shivering in my room near my heating vent (my room mate likes a cold apartment, while I like a little warmth in my life, so we compromise by me just heating up my personal space), and dancing around outside...while still shivering.

Still, the day came to an end, with the promise of school the next day. I went to bed really early, in order to be ready.

Cue 4:30am again--or something close to it--when I receive a text from my mom. "No school for you today." So, what happened?

Well, it had stayed colder than the weather people had expected the night before, and...we had had a bit of freezing rain.

For those unfamiliar with Freezing Rain, it basically is what happens when normal rain hits a layer of cold just above the ground and freezes on contact. It basically turns everything into a sheet of ice, and encases anything left outside in a cocoon of ice. Regrettably, when I took my I-am-insane-but-when-could-I-do-this-again? walk at 9:00 in the morning, I forgot my phone at home, so no pictures.

Where does this leave me, and what does this have to do with student teaching?

Well, I had roughly planned out three weeks of lessons during Thanksgiving break. Using data that I'd obtained by, you know, observing my students, we were going to focus on writing the middle part of a story using a single character. The goal was to give them ideas, with the first story being the character dealing with a problem, the second focusing on the character having a secret, while the third was going to focus on the character having a desire.

But, at this point, I don't think we're going to have time.

Quite frankly, I do want to deal with the character having a desire, but I don't think we'll have enough time to practice the new vocab if we went the way that I was planning. So, I'm going to have to move some things around for it to work, but I think I'll be able to fit it in. Truly, it just depends on how tomorrow goes. If my student's remember the story, and we get through everything at a good pace, then we'll add in a desire. If not...well, then we'll do the desire after Christmas Break with a new character.

One last note, before I sign off: the system works. The system that I made, that I was talking about, works. The students get it, and all that I have to do to get them back on track is pick up the white board and change the number. If it goes down, they quickly shape up. If it goes up, they relax a little bit and feel fantastic about themselves. The best part of the system is that it lets them self-monitor, because that's what I'm really after. If I spend the entire year constantly harping at them with how exactly I want them to shape up, then they'll always expect this input to come from an external source. However, if I can help them self-monitor--and understand when I think that they could do better without telling them how--then I start getting them to be a bit more introspective about their own behavior. Call it an odd quirk, but I'd rather empower my kids to be able to do things on their own than have them depend on me.

Oh, and speaking of which, I've taken a page out of my CT's book, and assigned a BB (Brain Break) person to my classes. This way, when someone thinks the energy is too high--or too low--they can say BB once a class, and we can do something for about a minute that has nothing to do with Spanish to better help them focus on the task at hand.

This has been another adventure in the Austentatious! If you liked it, tell your friends; if you hated it, tell your enemies; and if you don't care either way, then tell everyone! Good night, stay warm, and stay safe.

Chapter 8: Thanksgiving and the Aftermath

Preparing for the week, a naggling thought in our hero's head niggles into the forefront: something must be written. THE BLOG! With a clatter of dropped pans, he dashes to his room, a mess behind him for future events. Time is of the essence: begin blogging...now!

Well, it's been two weeks since my last post. The first week was Thanksgiving break. Two quick stories from there:
1) The day before Thanksgiving is, essentially, not the day for the get it or fail lesson. So, I taught my kids how to sing a Spanish song: En la feria de San Juan. Imagine, if you will, a set of 31 seventh graders--one quarter going gara gara on their air guitar, another going pidi-pidi-piyo pidi-pidi-piyo on their pipes, another going bom-bom-bom-bom on their drums, and one more going chacka-chacka-chacka-chacka on their maracas. And I got 95% buy in on the song. It was unreal, and I wish that I'd thought to film it.

2) I gave blood for the first time. For those who don't know, needles are a) my worst fear, and b) the fear that I have the least control over. So, yeah, I was a nervous wreck--nearly fainted when I walked into the room--but I went through with it anyway. Do I feel proud of myself? Yes. Will I do it again? Maybe? I don't know, it all depends on where my life takes me.

Now, this past week was stunningly productive. I finished my practice edTPA (huzzah! I'm free, I'm free, I'm free...[suddenly realizing that I have my February learning segment due on Saturday morning] DANG IT!), and completely invented a new system to manage my classroom.

Let me explain!

...

No, that would take too long. Let me sum up:

I am in charge of two seventh grade classes. One--being particularly utilitarian--works perfectly with the curriculum. The other...well, they tend to get excited when someone else has a good idea, and then they like the next idea even more, and the next idea even more...it's like a perpectual motion machine of excitement that just keeps going up until they I've all but lost control.

Read: It doesn't work for them.

So what happened? Well, they essentially went into lock down mode to reset the class. They were given a vocab list to study for a quiz on Friday, a dialogue to memorize as well, and grammar based lessons, which they hated. (It also terrified the other class. I came in the day after we started with the grammar in the other class and they were paying the best attention I have ever seen. It was like a group of Stepford Wives looking out for a hoard of weeping angels. Thankfully, I was able to snap them out of it, but the first 10 minutes were pretty unnerving). And they did it. They hated it, and I hated it, but they did it, and it gave me time to develop something new. I did it because...well, the current system was setting them up for failure.

Oooh, a nonsensical graph! That makes complete sense.

Sarcastic captions aside, this graph is their behavior in October. 0 is basically asleep; 1 is focused, on task, and with good energy; and 2 is out of control. After the first 2, they got a seating chart, and we made a set of classroom agreements (theirs were stellar), and we agreed that if they could maintain them for 5 days (in other words, get a 1 for five days in a row) that they'd get class seating back.

They did not do that.

And, looking at the graph, they were never going to. Basically, every one and a half to two days, they'd have a meltdown and lose it. Once they figured out that they'd lost their streak, they would get worse.

In other words, the system was setting them up completely for failure, and as a teacher, I can't abide by that idea.

So, I invented something new...or, probably more accurately, I stole the basic idea from somewhere that I can't really remember, and changed it in a way that will help them kids succeed. Here's how it works:
As a group, they have a certain number of class points. ten and above, and they have free seating. Anything below that, and they start losing privileges. Anything negative, and we go to grammar classes.
So, how do they gain/ lose points?
Every day, they start with 2 daily points. This is the level that I expect them to be able to be at in order to basically succeed in class. If they exceed my expectations, then they can get 3 points (if they get 3s on consecutive days, then I start adding multipliers, up to a x3). If they start to slip, then their points can go down. Although the daily points are only added to the class points at the end of class, I can change my projection at any time. This means that, at any time, I can change the number to let them know that they are either doing an exceedingly good job, or that they need to step it up (minus points are only going to happen if anyone is out of control. Hopefully no one ever gets that bad again).
What do they get out of it?
Three things: First, they get their privileges back. Second, for every multiple of 25 they hit (and it's only once per number), they get a game day. Number three, on those same multiples, they get to pick out two props for me to wear ALL DAY. A chance to humiliate the teacher? I think I've got 'em.
Why is this system better than the old one?
Well, for one it's not an all-or-nothing system. As I said, with the previous system once they figured they weren't going to add to their streak (again, it was every few days) they would blow up a little bit. With this system, having a bad day doesn't completely sink their chances. In fact, it is specifically built with bad days in mind. Number two, there wasn't a whole lot of feedback that I could give to the class with the previous system, except, "I think you're getting a little out of control." With this system, they get constant feedback, and it's going to be easy for everyone to see just what the feedback is. Lastly, it is a system designed around setting them up for success.

And, at the end of the day, isn't that what teaching is about?

I mean, I get that imparting the information and being able to do the skills is important, but I feel that it's also important to remember just where the kids are going. 10 years down the line, I want my students to be able to still speak Spanish, but I also want them to be able to be successful adults. Amazingly enough--and hard to believe while in the daily trenches--but there is life outside of the classroom. It is both awesome and terrifying--like a deity who forgot to put on pants--but one day my students will be entering jobs, deciding on their next elected representative, and populating the globe. And I want them to be incredible at every single aspect of their lives--to make other people stare in amazement that such superb examples of human beings actually exist--and that includes spending some time to focus on the things in life that don't have to do with Spanish. And if that means spending the rest of my free time for student teaching finding a way to make each and every one of them successful, then so be it, at least I can say that in the brief six-month time I was part of their lives, I worked to make a difference. And that, dear reader, is the absolute least that I ever want to say about any of my teaching experiences!

This has been another adventure in the Austentatious--brought to you by a man who is too cheap to turn on the heat, and too cold to have proper dexterity. If you liked it, tell your friends; if you hated it, tell your enemies; and if you don't care either way, then tell everyone.

Peace out!

Chapter 7: The Movement

Typing furiously at his keyboard, our hero realizes the terror that is 9:00pm on a Sunday night. Quickly switching gears and tabs, he valiantly types a post to please, an escrit to ascribe, a dictation to delight: Chapter 7, the movement.

So, not a lot of time to write. I've been working on edTPA quite a bit this weekend...again...because grad school? It's a lot of hurdles, and it will be worth it in the end. It's funny, actually, how the words we use to describe something affects how we view it. For example, on days when I call the edTPA a, "gigantic waste of time and paper," I put almost no effort into it. In fact, what I do put down is terrible gibberish that even an ancient Greek would think too incomprehensible to be called gibberish. However, when I call it, "something that I need to do," I do a fairly comprehensible job. And when I call it, "a way to strut my stuff," well...let's just say the rooster's not the only one who can be both prideful and flamboyant.

Anyway, this is my quick breather before I dive back in for about 10 minutes. So, here goes the plunge.

Monday was really cool. It was our first day back since the election, so the students were all a chitter about, well, things. I started both of my seventh grade classes with a little spiel about all being welcome in class, but by the great broo-ha-ha I will never tolerate one person disrespecting another (and, yes, that does include making fun of someone for supporting Trump). I also got to really rely on my Kindergarten training. See, anyone who says that it's a teacher's job to teach isn't lying, but they're not telling the whole story either. See, it's also the teacher's job to monitor the energy levels in the classroom, and make sure everyone's on track. So, if a class is almost falling asleep (I had several of those this week), it's my job to pump. Them. Up! (and next time, we will be doing the chicken dance). Meanwhile, if I have a class that's bouncing off the walls, it's my job to get them back in their seats. Before Kindergarten, I was really good at the first, and usually added to the second...which, to be honest, can work really well. I mean, catch the energy right, and it's like you're surfing on it. Catch it wrong and...it's less like wiping out, and more like being smash against the coastal glass-and-lemon-juice factory. Repeatedly. And with a vengeance.
Because of a year in Kindergarten, however, I have learned how to calm kids down when needed, which was especially helpful 5th period. We had 45 students (and I have to just say, that I am deeply proud of them) walk out of the school to join a protest. Most of them came back within ten minutes because they got cold, but it was still really cool. It also had all of the other students jumping around like goons. I mean, the "silent five" (first five minutes = no talking = golden classroom management technique) were turning into the "screaming futile." So, I sat down.
It really is amazing how much the energy changes when the person in charge (well, nominally in charge at that moment) chooses to sit down and be a calm center. It doesn't kill the energy. It focuses it. And it did. Like the other classes, I started by addressing them, but I used a different speech. Instead of everyone being welcome, it was that exciting events were happening, and that I recognized the importance of the events to them. I also recognized that the protests were a way for them to vent their anger that they had no vote in the system, and as such no voice, and that I valued their voices. One student was then cheeky and asked if his voice was valued, then why didn't he have a vote? I answered him that we could talk about that later, since we had a time built in to talk about the election. (Fun fact: it has to do with medieval ideas of chivalry. Namely, the coming of age for a boy was when his body was matured enough to take on the tasks of adulthood. That conception of the change carried over into the founding of our country, and so 21 became the age when people got the vote. We can all thank Vietnam for the impetus to change the voting age to 18.)
To be honest, though, it really is amazing how much people's reactions can change when they feel as though they are being listened to. Listening, by the way, doesn't mean that you hear the words that they say. It also doesn't mean that you plan ahead what you're going to say. Listening means that you give the person space to say what is on their mind, and you hear the message behind their words. For example, "If I have a voice, why don't I have a vote?" If I just heard the words, then it would be cheek, and I would have brushed it off to the side. However, by listening to the message underneath--"I hear adults say that, but because I can't take any actions and no one seems to be taking what I'm feeling seriously, so I don't believe you"--I was able to change that question into an answer that made the student feel valued.
Oh, and I really did answer the student. We ran out of time, so I made sure to call them over and explain it after class. I don't think that they were actually looking for an answer, but they've been a heck of a lot better with me in class since.

OK, other things: Still learning a lot. Still got legs. My seventh graders now have a seating chart (I had them come up with an agreement of how they would show me that they could get free seating back, and then had them come up with some things that I could do for them to get it back, because I always hated it when a teacher said that we could earn back free seating by being good, without ever telling us what that meant. We'll see how long this takes), and it's needed a couple of revisions. New Pokemon game, so my life is filled with excitement, and...yeah. It's a two day week, so this will be interesting. I'm starting Tuesday with a Free-Write in the library for the kids, and then planning on teaching them some Spanish songs for the rest of class. Other shenanigans coming soon. Now, BACK TO edTPA!

This has been another exciting adventure in the austentatious. If you liked it, tell your friends; if you hated it, tell your enemies; and if you don't care either way, then tell everyone. Good night, and HAPPY THANKSGIVING!!!!

Chapter 6: A Turn of Events

Time is like a small child: everything seems fine until they wonder what happens when you throw the iron at mommy.

It has been quite a week (I feel like I say that a lot. Do I say that a lot? I should check...survey says that this is the third time I've said something like it in three weeks. So...

RESET

I has a fantabulous week (and suddenly all is sunshine, rainbows, lollipops, and...dogs in tutus. Well, I've been spending too much time in middle school). Got to see the OES play, get my kitchen all clean, have adventures with parents, but first...I started out finishing the story with my seventh graders, by having them come up with an ending. Those fantastic fiends friends thought enthusiastically, daringly--dare I say--creatively to come up with...

darkness, lights up, the music swells AS...

 (knock knock knock) Megan Fox knocks on the door. They let her in. (cue romantic music) Megan Fox proposes to Jake from State Farm. He says yes. The two ride away on a unicorn to Chuck E Cheese, and they all lived happily ever after.

The End

WooooooOOOOooooow...so, blogger has precisely ZERO interesting fonts. Anyway...

So, that lesson could have gone better, because I didn't plan enough. See, that's the difference between this teaching and all of the other classroom teaching that I've ever done (AASK doesn't count, because the focus was purely on providing an experience): I'm planning everything. Over in Japan (aside from from a small time in the returnee class) everything that I taught was from a company-made lesson plan. Did I follow them exactly? No--in the case of the kid's classes--because a) their games really were not very fun for the most part, and b) they only had a small amount of time for the games. So, I guess that you could say I followed the lesson plan--with a few things jostled around--just not the lesson times.

As for OES...aside from a few math lessons that I got to teach, I was more of a helper for the students. So, my ability to plan was minimal.

But here I am, planning everything out for 50 minutes, and in this case I over estimated how long the main part of the lesson would take. I thought that it would take 20 minutes, when it only took about 8. So, 12 minutes of extra time? On the first day of a two day week? When the kids are already filled to the brim with excess energy, and any weakness or lack of fortitude is leapt upon and devoured like a pack of black holes zooming in on a baby gazelle.

Yeah...that could have gone better.

The next day, however, went swimmingly well. We acted out the story (overact is more like it, with hilarious results), and then took an assessment. In MY day (being of the ripe old age of 25.5#####) we would have called it a quiz. But NO, we must move with the times. So, now it's called an assessment. Watching them do said assessment was really interesting. They struggled with the first part (translate the English in to Spanish), did really well at the second and third...

You know what? No. This is the kind of stuff that I'm writing for my edTPA. It's boring and lifeless, and no one needs to read it. So, long story short, the assessment went great...

And then I surprised the kids. With doughnut-holes! The instant they came out, I had the attention of every single person in the class. And they all got one. Why? As a thank you. It seems to me that when someone goes out of their way to do something nice for you, that you should thank them. These students, I would say, had gone out of their way to do something nice for me. These lessons were not perfect, and I'm clearly still learning how to do this teaching thing. The students could have made the experience a living heck. But, instead, they gave me honest feedback, and put up with times when the lessons didn't go as well. I can't imagine how frustrating it would be to constantly have a stream of student teachers going in and out of school, making connections and then breaking them off, and I guess that I just want to say, here and now, Thank you. To my current students in my classroom, thank you for trusting me enough to not only be honest with me, but to go with what I asked of you. I know that I've said it before--and that I will say it again--but thank you so much.

The next two days were conference days, or

Adventures in the Land of the Parents!!!

That means--for my teacher and me--12 hour days of back to back 10 minute conferences, with the only breaks being about one hour long for lunch and dinner.

Ugh.

So, what goes into a conference from a teachers side? Well, we need to explain the curriculum. We need to explain how the students are doing. We need to explain how they can improve. We also need to make it personal--not in the, "I hate your child for being too stupid to understand my genius," but of the, "so and so said this on Tuesday, and I thought that it was beautiful and really showed me that blah blah blah." Not only that, but I had to sit...

and sit....

and SIT!!!!

For the entire time! And here I am, used to spending the entire day on my feet, being forced to sit for three hours at a time.

It was like being trapped on a plane, only I've left my 3ds and books at home. Thankfully, there are people to talk to, but that's a small condolence when you're a) hungry, &/or b) can I please stop talking to you so my bladder will stop talking to me?

But it was all worth it, for Friday was off. So, what do I do on my day off? Sit around, doing nothing? Go out, explore the world until I'm sick and tired of people? Work ahead?

Ha, no. I go back to school. My school: Oregon Episcopal School.

I meant to spend about half an hour there. Just a quick, "hello, good morning, Happy Friday, everything's going well-bye!" Sort of thing. But that didn't happen. Instead, I talked for a long time with many people (not everyone that I wanted to see, but oh well), had lunch, talked some more, enjoyed the campus...

It's interesting coming back to the place I grew up in after I leave, because I always see it differently than when I left. I remember coming back after college, and seeing my old friends...then watching them graduate, until there was no one left that I could say I'd gone to High School with...but still, I made friends with the students, and still had strong connections. Then I went away to Japan, and when I came back it all seemed...so quaint, with this awesome lack of stress. At the same time, I'd been working at a school in a different culture, and I began to see missed opportunities, and cares that I didn't really care about any more, and a way of looking at the world that was no longer...me. And now I've come back again...OES is there. It will always be there, and I know that, in one way or another I will always be able to come back. But, after seeing public school, I'm beginning to realize just how lucky everyone who is there is. The food is fantastic, the people are all kind, and there's a disconnect from the outside world. There's also a calmness there that I don't find in Robert Gray and...I'm not sure what I think about it. It really is amazing how separate private and public schools are, where the norms of the former (yeah, at OES my students all called me Mr. Austin) can be as shocking to the public schoolers as the other way around ('my teacher directly calls out students' 'why doesn't she take them off to the side?' 'Because, with over 30 students, there is no way she'd have enough time while keeping the rest on track.') I am glad that I am having these experiences, and not just because they're helping me to grow. Once again, I feel like there are a set of missed opportunities, where no one wants to reach out and bridge a divide to really find how different life is like on the other side.

Still, the week ended on a high note (I'm ignoring Tuesday night and Saturday. The former, because I'm still processing and watching how things roll out; the latter, because 8 hours of class really isn't blog worthy. Oooh, the professor ended the class by reading a list of possible project topics from the paper he'd posted on the class website. It went on for four pages? Edge of the seat material, right there.) On Friday night, I got to see...

Journey to the West (fun cultural fact: in many Asian countries, the color red is associated with good fortune.)

It's a Chinese Epic poem that the OES theater department had turned into a two hour play, and they did a fantastic job. The costumes were excellent (I really wanted to try them on), it was really funny, and overall I was impressed. The students made this OES theater alum proud. I was especially happy after the show, because I got to see some people that I'd been looking for earlier and missed (only one of them shook my hand. Personally, I would have preferred a hug--oh-murderer-of-the-historian--and a longer chat, but such is life. That's another interesting difference I've notice between public and private school. At OES, everyone is very hugy. At Robert Gray, not so much. Hmmm...I might have to check the handbook on that...), and I made sure to bring a pen to get lots of autographs (once again, really pleased with the first one that I got, and all of the rest of them as well. Especially a certain someone who climbed over a boulder to get to me, as well as someone who was looking for me during the show[front and center, I was!], and the one who yelled at me, and the one back stage, and the one with the fantastic headdress...all of them, really). Why did I want autographs? The most magical show that I did, I played Templeton the Rat, and one of the things that I remember the most was the kids lining up to get autographs. If you have worked hard at something, then it deserves to be special. I just hope that I helped make the experience special for them by asking for autographs. And, hey, in a few weeks, Robert Gray has a play too. Now, won't that be fun?

This has been another exciting (and surprisingly positive) adventure in the austentatious! If you liked it, tell your friends; if you hated it, tell you enemies; and if you didn't care either way, then tell everyone! Good night. (next week, I promise, there will be pictures)

Alright, just one note on the election: I live in Portland. We went so overwhelmingly for Hilary Clinton that the only word I can use to describe it is landslide. So, on Wednesday morning, after Trump was declared the winner, the whole city felt like it was in mourning. The cars were slow, the sky was overcast, and even the sounds were sad. It was a very odd experience that I'm still trying to grapple with, but one that I want to write down to help start that process.

Xenologue-What Exactly Do I Do?

So, here's where I explain the nitty-gritty of what I'm doing in the Spanish Classroom. Basically, my classroom uses

Teaching Proficiency Through Reading and Storytelling (ECHO ECHO ECHO ECHO echo...) Which basically means that we teach Spanish by crowd sourcing stories from the classroom, and we do this with a focus on what's called, "Comprehensible Input." What does that mean? Well...
100% of the Spanish is...
100% compressible/ understandable to...
100% of the students,
100% of the time! (I skipped Yellow because I have a hard time seeing it on the white background of the pre-published screen).

Basically, the theory goes that students pick things up easier if they understand them. I guess, from a neurological point of view, if you're spending less brain power trying to figure out what is going on, you can spend more brain power committing it to memory.

So, what's the goal?

Well, we want our students to be able to communicate in Spanish, instead of understanding the basic grammatical forms. I mean, 

I don't know about you, dear reader, but most people at dinner parties back away if I ask them to identify the adjective in the sentence.

So, in other words, the students can use the grammar, but they don't know what it's called. In hoity-toity terms, it's the difference between Acquiring a language and Learning it. With Learning, there are long vocab lists, grammar worksheets, and a lot of stress. With acquisition, there isn't a lot of overt instruction, the only vocab that they learn is a relatively small amount that they practice again and again (our students generate it themselves, so we know that they are words the students will actually use), and the focus is on being able to get a message across, not on getting the message across right. As for why we use stories, it's to make the whole process fun. People love making and hearing stories. It's why Nanowrimo is a thing, movies, books, TV shows, etc are popular, and why news narratives work. People just remember a story far better than they remember a list of facts. 

The last big tenant of the program is that we want our students to feel comfortable. The idea is that students will remember things better and participate more if they not only feel comfortable in the class room, but have a relatively low-stress environment too.

So, what do I think of it?

I think that it works well. We just had conferences, and even the 7th graders--who had only been in the classroom for about 11 weeks (and not all full weeks either)--were able to start telling stories for their parents if they came to the conference. To be honest, their ability to produce the language and get a coherent point across is absolutely amazing, and I am very impressed.

Having said that...

I'm not completely convinced. The goal is to make learning Spanish the same as how our students learned English, and it's never going to happen. That's not because we don't try, but because we will never be able to fully create a) the environment, and b) the brain chemistry. The brain of a Middle Schooler is very different from the brains of babies and toddlers. They simply don't make the same kinds of connections, and are wired extremely differently. I mean, yes, we can give them a firm base in the language, but I simply cannot find the data to see how high up the language can go.

So, to wrap up, I think that the way that we are teaching Spanish will give us amazing results. I think that the students are able to get their points across with the language--our main goal--and that everyone is having a lot of fun. I also think that this is the best way for a novice to get acclimated to the language...but that adding in supplementary things could benefit the students as well. Helping them to make explicit connections--which we do sometimes in class--can have fantastic results. However, while I am a guest in this classroom, playing around with how I teach can only go so far. It will only be once I get into my own classroom--in whatever city, and on whatever continent that may be--that I will really be able to try out things and find a healthy medium that matches what I want to do as a teacher.

PS) If you would like to see an example of TPRS, please follow this link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AtgHO1V4uDE

Chapter 5: On Which the Dead Leave

My goodness, what a week it has been.

And what a week it will be.

First off, Tuesday was the Day of the Dead...which means that all of the project stuff was due. All of the altars (Yay! Now I can spell that blasted word) were due, and all of the posters were as well. I've got to say, I'm impressed. The altars turned out fantastically, with most being taller than myself. Really, I could tell that all of them were filled with love and hard work...just some of them needed the hard work to be spread out a bit more, while for some the hard work could have been a bit more focused. For all of them, though, they had a right to feel proud.

As for the posters...well, my first class never worried me. As I believe that I have said before, they're a very utilitarian class. They get stuff done on time, and to the letter...just without a lot of special touches. The other class, though...I'll be honest, I was a good deal worried for several groups. There was one in particular that nearly gave me a heart attack, because they had such a grand idea, and were not doing the best job bringing it to fruition. However, they were one of the groups to take it home over the weekend, giving it the attention it deserves...and then they forgot it at home on Monday. Talk about a heart attack for me...however, on Tuesday, they brought in a poster that was beyond expectations. Really, this thing is an amazing piece of work. Anyway, this project taught me something about myself...

I hate, loathe, dislike, cannot stand giving a student a D.

I did it, I'm not proud of it, and it's their own fault for forgetting the heading, but it definitely did not make me feel good. I mean, what could I have done to help them? How did I fail them as a teacher? Why didn't I notice that they needed a push?

More on that soon.

So, with Day of the Dead done, we moved back into normal life. For the eighth graders, that meant taking down their altars--a far, far, far, FAR faster process--while for the seventh graders, that meant a return to focusing on stories. Which, for me, meant my first time really taking the kids through their stories. But, not just any stories--oh no. See, for edTPA, I need to do my lessons, and they all have to be exactly planned out before I even begin. I can't do what my cooperating teacher usually does, which is to say, "OK, since today they did this and got to here, tomorrow we're going to do this!"

So, to get the students ready for greater structure, I decided to have them practice with what I shall call a per-fabricated fable. Basically, I write the bare bones, and have them fill in the names, and then flesh it out. That way, I get to write out everything before hand, and my students still get to make it their own. You know, something fun, something fantastic, something that the students will really get something out of.

My first lesson was a disaster.

Now, not a complete disaster, but...let me explain. So, the first slide--where we introduce our characters, and I ask the students for names--went swimmingly. It was easily understood, and the kids gave me great ideas for names (What were the names? Well, in the first class we have Requisha, Sharquisha, and Quesadisha; and Juan, Jessica Davis, and--once again, I swear, generated by the kids--Jake from State Farm for the second class).

Then we got to the second slide.

In retrospect, it should have been obvious that a wall of text was a bad idea. But I just had so much to say, and I really wanted to emphasize the difference between the beginning, middle, and end of a story by having each be its own slide.

Lesson learned, don't put form over function. I learned that lesson for my wardrobe, so you would think I would apply it to my teaching.

Oh, but the problems didn't stop there. See, this is a Comprehensible Input classroom. That means that the kids are given the resources (from word walls, to cognates, to exaggerated actions) to understand everything in Spanish that is directed at them (this means that, for my teacher and me, Spanish is like a shared code-language). This text, while in the spirit of CI, had assumed a certain degree of knowledge in the language that the author (cough cough) had had at the same point in his language career.

It was not a good assumption.

Not only were they not getting most of it, but they weren't telling me that they weren't. The expectation is that if they don't understand, they need to show me jazz hands. And none of them were. Thankfully, my cooperating teacher kept pointing out that they should, but it made that part of the lesson a real slog for everyone involved. For me, it was a reminder to really double check the words available to them first, and for them, it was a reminder that I'm learning too.

At the end of the lesson, I gave a quick assessment. The last question was asking them what they noticed about the story. Many of them gave me feedback on my teaching instead, which I am so thankful for. My cooperating teacher also gave me feedback, and echoed what they had said. She then offered to change the story around (she'd already changed a few things for the first slide.) I declined, and said that I'd rather do it myself. I then spent my entire lunch period, reworking the story. The second class went so much better than the first with the new story. The next day, I started the first class by introducing them to the new story, and things went so much better after that.

Now, back to that point I skipped over earlier. That first lesson was filled with problems, and it was a lesson that I myself had created just for them. In essence, I failed in almost all of my goals. And, I can say, that it was OK. I learned so much from that experience, and I used it to improve for the second class, which is really different from the first time I'd failed a lesson.

I'll be honest, I don't remember the exact date, and I neither want to, nor need to. But, somehow, early on in Japan I taught a terrible lesson. Now, it wasn't bad enough to warrant a refund--yes, it really does happen to some people--but it still wasn't...good.

And it destroyed me.

"What?" I thought to myself, "I am not yet the perfect personification of a teacher? I still have things to learn? But I'm 22 years old! I've taught in summer camp for 3 years! Surely I should be good enough not to make mistakes like this."

Oh, the naivety.

Shortly after that, my manager had to talk to me for the first time. Again, I was devastated. See, I'd made a promise to myself that I was just going to be good enough that my manager wouldn't need to do that--in hindsight, a young-person's promise--so by her talking to me, I had failed. And I became...difficult isn't the right word...a monster doesn't go far enough...hmmm...like a two-year old in a temper tantrum? Yeah, that sounds about right. It was one of the things that broke me, early on, just one brick on top of another.

But dang, if I'm not thankful for that manager. I made her life hell, and she never gave up on me. I learned so much from that woman, and one of my greatest regrets is that I was never able to effectively communicate to her just how much she had done for me, and how thankful I was for everything.

What a difference a few years makes.

If I'd gone right into grad school...well, let me tell you, I'd feel sorry for anyone forced to be my cooperating teacher. Inevitably, I'd have taught a lesson like my one this week, where it just didn't go well.

It happens.

But it would have probably destroyed me. I would probably have finished the program, but it would not have been easy. In the end, I probably would stay wondering why the students hadn't understood my brilliant lesson, and might never have figured it out.

Sometimes life takes us on a circuitous route to get to our end goal. Going to Japan was a bit of a whim, but it was one that served me well. It taught me that failure is a part of life, and to accept it. It also taught me how to move on from my failures to make things better. In essence, it made my successes this week possible (Me: Alright, tell me about how you fleshed out your characters! Student: [paraphrased, and in Spanish]Well, Megan Fox is in love with Jake from State Farm, but Jake from State Farm isn't in love with her, so she wants to eat him and his siblings). Also, as a surprise for them, I'm bringing in donuts on Tuesday as a thank you gift, because I do feel as though people doing nice things for you should be recognized. I don't hold with material bribes for good classwork anymore, because it only really enforces that you should learn something because of the reward it gets you. It also means that the students will only do something for you if they get something out of it, and I can't support that.

Anyway, this has been another exciting adventure in the austentatious! If you liked it, tell your friends, if you hated it tell your enemies, and if you don't care either way then tell everyone! Happy MONDAY!

Chapter 4: Criss-Crossing the Country

            My goodness, what a week. I’m currently sitting on a plain, flying back from Ohio, and procrastinating on the homework that I have left. And, no, it’s not a half-hour, get-it-don't-and-out-of-the-way now kind of homework. It’s the, I-have-no-idea-five-minutes-or-five-hours kind of homework. And really, that’s my own fault. I mean, I could leave well enough alone (how often did I say that to the kids this week? “You’ve had two and a half weeks, and have yet to glue on a single thing?!?! Look, I admire your perfectionist streak, and I recognize that you want this to be the single most perfect poster to ever grace the planet, but now’s the time to prioritize…) but where’s the fun in that? Oh, and thankfully, I don't talk to kids after eight hours of airports and airplanes.

I’d probably regret it.

So, why was I in Ohio? Or, to be more specific, Oberlin College? Simple matrimony. The union of two people. Mawwiage, to quote a friend’s most excellent toast, mawwiage was wot bwot us togethah that day. Specifically, the marriage of one of my amazing High School friends to her long time boyfriend.

Centered: The bride and her partner...and the only thing I can think of is, "together again..."

And it was beautiful.

I mean, to be honest, it helped that she was too. And not in the, “I have to say that because you’re a bride.” See, she wore this nice, simple blue dress. And, on top, she wore a white, hand crocheted cover that took her 8 months to make. And that, coupled with her glow (and her hair) just made it all seem so…perfect.

Even looking at this makes me want to cry with joy.

The ceremony took place in a small, intimate chapel. 

 

The weather was a pleasant, sunny, 70* Fahrenheit, with the usual menagerie associated with weddings—that collection of puzzle pieces stretching back into the separate lives of the couple, joined for one day to celebrate, and then as quickly separated back into their prospective groups as though one finally noticed that they never really fit together.

As for the ceremony itself…it reflected the bride and groom perfectly. It started with a little speech by the officiator (a friend of theirs), and then the bride’s mom stood up to sing a song. Given the occasion—and the audience—it was a perfect choice, and sung in a way that only a mother with a voice on her daughter’s wedding day will ever be able to produce.

“…sun rise, sun set…sun rise, sun set…quickly flow the years…”

Oh my goodness, but the passion brought everyone to tears. I have never heard a song so perfectly encapsulate the feelings of everyone in the room…and a part of me doubts if I ever will again.

Then the wedding party asked the bride and groom questions in a tongue-in-cheek vow style ceremony, and then the bride and groom said their hand written vows. Then the rings were exchanged, and they proceeded out to the tune of an accordion.

Oh, did I forget to mention?

The processions—both in and out—were musicified to the sounds of the accordian, drum, and fiddle. A more fitting combination does not exist. Anyway, then came the reception, which was sooooo much fun. There was good food (including cookies which, I kid you not, dear reader, were the SIZE of my FACE! And gooey! And delicious! And accidentally left in the hotel room this morning (weep weep, sad tears). 

Oh, what could have been...

There was a guest book, filled with writing prompts and rules for card games.

It made more sense in context. See, there were also two decks of very blank cards, which guests were invited to decorate for the happy couple. It was exciting.

So...many..cards!

If you don't get this, READ GARTH NIX!

Well, that turned out well.

But the best part (and, yes, there are things better than cookies that make me feel like I’m in the, “Phantom of the Opera”) was the dancing. See, unlike normal weddings, we didn’t do no new-fangled jive and jivvy dance! No, there were no flailing limbs and twerking behinds, nor solemn faces and hurt pride. No siree. Oh, dear reader, what did exist was…

CONTRA (up up down down left right left right B A start)

No, not that kind of contra, but contra dancing. See, the bride and groom started dancing to a song of the groom’s own making, when they suddenly pulled people in! Contra is less about who you start with—or even if you’re a lead or a follow—and more about just having fun. I ended up dancing with many of my friends that song. We then were pulled into a line which snaked around the room, the band playing merrily (really, I swear, there is no better nor truer adjective) in the background as away we went. And it was so cool, because as we were walking, someone started stomping a beat.

Stomp, stomp, stomp, stomp-stomp!  Stomp, stomp, stomp, stomp-stomp!

And it spread throughout the line, like a car crash, except with more laughing, and less broken bone and blood and gore. It was so awesome. We then learned a few more line dances. I must say, it’s been a while since I went dancing with my OES friends, but it’s made me wish that we could all do it more. By the end of the night, we were the only ones still on the dance floor. I even learned how to do the hustle. Truly, I never wanted the night to end…

But it did, because I had an early flight. Now, here I am, towards the end of the trip. What have I learned?

Well, number one, Ohio is different from Oregon. When we were flying in, I saw this lake shining under the sun. I looked down at it (and away from the phone of the man in front of me, who happened to be watching, Deadpool. I don’t know if he noticed, and don’t really care. It was something to stare at while thinking about my homework) and saw a glittering patchwork of waves. Now, these weren’t the waves of the ocean, which seem to have some purpose in their travels as they zoom along the top of the water. Instead, they seemed a bit more random, bounding into each other and creating a surface that looked almost placid. However, as with the ocean, the lake stretched on…and never stopped. Even from the air, there came a time when I could only see one shore stretching into the distance. I have never seen anything like it. I also saw this interesting building as we were descending. It looked, in the distance, like either a giant statue or a lighthouse, framed between two gigantic columns (I think that it was a factory) but it made me want to explore. What is it? What does it do? Why was it built? I may never know. As for the place itself, it just seemed so much more…manicured than Oregon. The road was bordered by these nice, grassy hills that ended in a very definite line of trees. I don’t know how to describe it, except to say that Oregon just seems so much more wile in comparison…it that’s an apt comparison to make.

Number 2, colleges might have their own unique cultures and feelings, but there’s something static about the feeling of students on a college campus. I don’t mean that in a bad way, just that they stood out from the rest of the people. There’s just something about college students, this kind of whimsical energy that says, “I’m either going to do my homework when I get to my friends house, or turn his couch into a flaming trebuchet.”

Note: Turning your friends couch into a burning trebuchet may cause bodily harm. It may also result in the loss of your security deposit, friendship, and friend. You have been warned.

Number 3, my friends are growing up and expanding their lives, just as I am. That’s what makes them fun to visit, because then we have so many more stories to tell each other. That being said…

Number 4, I’m a little jealous that my friend got married. I mean, I was at a wedding a month ago, and I was a little jealous then, but I’m more jealous now. Before this, marriage was this future thing that I wanted, but wasn’t really that interested in doing anything about in the present. But now that I have MARRIED friends (oh my goodness, I have MARRIED friendS…PLURAL!!!! With an S?!?!) the idea of getting married has suddenly become this great big reality.

Wow.

Anyway, so I spent the weekend crisscrossing the country (Portland -> Minneapolis -> Cleveland -> Oberlin -> Cleveland -> Denver -> Portland), what about the week before? How was student teaching.

Excellent, with little bits of panic.

See, the first part of my edTPA is due—not in a technical sense, but let’s get real, I’ve never been fond of turning things in the morning of—tonight when I go to bed. And I’ve been struggling a little with it. Not in the sense that I have no idea what I’m doing, but more that I have no idea how to organize it. See, I’ve been spending this month trying to figure out how the basic curriculum of my classroom works, and turning it into something that will also work with the edTPA (it’s kind of like putting a sphere through a round hole—I can never quite seem to grab hold long enough to make it fit.

But, it’s crunch time. I’ve spent more time working on it in plains, airports, and a hotel room than I’d care to think about. Really, it’s not that I’m behind where I should be, but behind where I want to be (although, and I have no issue with saying this, I spent a good 26 hours this weekend on the darn thing). I want this to be perfect—I want everything to get a five—but I don't have time anymore to make sure of that. So…as I’ve been telling my students, I’m going to have to decide on doing good enough, and saving perfect for the real one.

But that’s not the only lesson I’ve been saying again and again this week.

I’ve had several students come up and ask for an extension on either their speeches or their altars (the seventh graders aren’t at that crunch-time quite yet, but they will be tomorrow), and I’ve had to say no. This is a hard date, and they’ve had almost three weeks to work on it. However it’s also part of life. See, we as a species have these fun things called, “deadlines” that pop up all over live. They can be personal (I will get married and have 50 kids by the time I’m 30), or imposed on you (this is due on Friday) but they all take up a certain amount of time. And that time is precious, because it competes with all of the other things that we want to do in our lives. But part of growing up is deciding how we want to spend our time. Which do you feel will be better for you, editing the movie for next week, or working on your altar due Friday? I realize it’s hard, and that you feel obligated to go to football practice, but you also want to memorize your speech. Which one will you choose? I know that the wedding is important, but your edTPA Task 1 is due Sunday. Which will you choose?

All that I can say is that by choosing people over perfection, I hope that I’m modeling the kind of rationale I’d like my students to make.

This has been another exciting adventure in the Austentatious. If you liked it, tell your friends; if you hated it, tell your enemies; and if you don’t care either way, then tell everyone. Now, Oberlin pictures!

A pagoda, because...pagoda?

The library...which looks vaguely terrifying.

The building that looks like it has a book out front, but is not a library.

A historical sign. They have these everywhere!

Chapter 3: Of Brownies and Shine

(Ugh, my phone is taking forever to upload any images. I might need to add them later).

No, not moonshine. HIGHLIGHTER shine!

Behold, the magic of highlighters in lasertag! See, my room mate's birthday is tomorrow, so yesterday his father and brothers (bit of an energetic set) took him lasertagging, and I went along too. One of the amazing things about the game is that it takes place under a black-light. Therefore, anything white (or fluorescent, or possessing of chemical charisma) glows like a lightning bug. Did it make me easier to hit? Of course. Was it totally worth it? Heck yeah. I don't play to win (although, I did get the most points on my team during the second round, at 4865), I play to have fun. If that means that I get to pretend I'm a glowing warrior of peace and destruction (because why limit my options to what I want to do), then all the merrier.
Anyway, one reason I bring it up is that the place was crawling with my current students. The 8th graders completely ignored me (even though we happened to play against them), while my 7th graders all said hello. Some were a bit more surprised to see me than others. I call it the, "my-teacher-escaped-the-asylum" look. I know that I gave it when I was younger. When most of us are students, we just don't like to think about the fact that they have a life outside of the classroom.
Speaking of which, the classes are going great. The seventh graders are working magnificently on their posters, while the eighth graders are creating wonderful altars. Some of them stretch taller than me, especially with their arches. It's really impressive. It never ceases to amaze me just how much students can accomplish when they're given the opportunity to succeed. I'll be honest, I sometimes get the feeling that some teachers are as afraid of their students failing as their students are of failing. And I get where they're coming from. Failure is utterly terrifying. It's like this great gaping black hole beneath you, and you're scared that if you fall into it, you'll never get out. You'll just be stuck down their forever, always swimming in the direction that you think is right, only to keep running into more and more failure, until you eventually decide to give up. And you're only choices when you are succeeding are to either use the wide, comfortable bridge above it, the bridge that you know you can easily cross, even if you don't really learn anything from it, or the narrow one. The scary one. The one that you're not sure you can support you all the way across.

At least, that's how failure used to look to me.

And, in many ways, it still does. I still see that black hole, and those bridges. Part of me is still terrified that if I mess up--even a little--that everything I've worked for will come crashing down, and I'll never be able to go on. But, there's a part of me that sees things differently. There's a part of me that looks down into that blackness, and sees stars--glimmering lights of possibility--that I can only reach if I end up having a misstep. And each of those stars rests within a galaxy of shimmering possibilities, a rainbow array of colors more beautiful than anything I can even imagine. And each one of those lights shoots out, creating a new path and a new set of bridges, but each of these potentially more magnificent than anything else I've built up until now. Because, that's what risk does, when done right: it takes us towards new possibilities. True, it doesn't feel good to leave where we feel safe, but if we never really explore, then we'll never really get to see what we can become.

And as a teacher, I know that it's my duty to not only model for my students what that looks like, but to help support them along the way. If they choose the narrow path, the dangerous one, the one that can really help them grow, then I can walk beside them, and keep them balanced. I can also, if the bridge starts to crack, hold it up so that they will not fall, and even if they do I will be there to swim through that ocean of mysterious darkness until we find one of those infinitely beautiful pin-pricks of light that we call possibility.

Wow, that got poetically philosophical. However, I stand by it. My role as a teacher doesn't end when my kids leave the classroom. That's one of the reasons I don't mind seeing them when I'm off doing things on the weekend. I'm always doing something that I am proud my students see me do, even if they laugh. After all, if I get to choose between being weird, or being monotonous, why would I ever choose the latter?

Anyway, I've been baking. See, my room mate apparently just loves brownie cookies. So, I went online, looked at a few recipes, chose one that looked nice, and set to work.

Oh, optimism misplaced.

No sooner had I softened the butter, when I realized a slight obstacle: the recipe was in ounces. Not cups, not tsp, not tbs, but ounces. And I don't have a scale. "Ah well," I told myself, "time to improvise." So, I promptly poured in what I can only say must have been twice as much cocoa powder. I say that, because I then had to add in twice as much butter. Needless to say, it was an adventure. In the end, I had what can only really be described as slightly thick frosting.

But, feeling optimistic, I put some on a cooking tray.

Loaded it into the oven, and 10 minutes later, got this:

Aren't they pretty? And they don't taste like crap. In fact, they taste fairly decent. What can I say, backing is fun!

Speaking of fun things, in order to be a teacher, I have to write this big thing called an edTPA (it's a special kind of monster. It feeds on the hopes and dreams of prospective teachers). Right now, I'm writing a practice one, focusing on the first task (I guess they called them Tasks to either be really specific, or make it feel like you're on a cool quest! Kind of like adults who think they make a difference by rapping at kids to brush their teeth and not do drugs. If you couldn't tell, I have a low opinion of such programs). Basically, this is the setup. I tell the edTPA people what the class is like, what my lessons will be (in almost absurd detail) and then get to write a commentary. Max: 9 pages. Single spaced. And people run out of room. Basically, for this my motto should be: if it doesn't add value, don't add it in. No superfluous words. No quixotic tangents. Not even an iotic-speck of added color. Cold, clinical, and condensed.

This could get a little rough.

This has been another exciting adventure in the Austentatious. If you liked it, tell your friends; if you hated it, tell your enemies; and if you don't care either way, then tell everybody. Good night!

Chapter 2: The Beginning of the Dead

First off, I'm sorry for the piss-poor attitude from the last post. I've never exactly done transitions well, and I don't tend to notice the fact until later. Read: expect a few of those periodically as things come up that I'm not used to/ didn't expect.

Dia de los Muertos (Day of the Dead, a Mexican holiday), Dia de los Muertos, DIA DE LOS MUERTOS...is in about two weeks has descended upon my classroom.

And it's so cool.

So, week two went swimmingly well. There were mistakes--as there should be--but I'm learning from them. Some of them--particularly the student's written warmup--are a bit more noticeable than others--such as the fact that I still need to keep studying Spanish to really get up to fluency. Overall, though, things are going well. I've learned more kids' names, had opportunities to try new things, and am learning more about the school culture. One of my favorites: the last day of every week is a dress up day, and I love costumes. This week (I was so excited all week for this) was twin/ triplet day. So I asked my cooperating teacher (CT) if she wanted to twin it up. She said yes.

BEHOLD, the wonders of amazingness, the flamboyants of fashion, the tiers of ties:

From left to right: ____ (my wonderful CT), my self, and ____ (the other Spanish teacher).

Yes, I did show them how to tie the bows. Yes, I can do it without a mirror. I did it that way so that I'd be able to do it anywhere.

Oh, and here's the classroom (it's different now. Pics next week.):

Not too traditional, if I do say so.

And an example of a word wall:

This is up ALWAYS during class.

So, basically, here's the daily schedule of each class (until Dia de los Muertos happens):
1) Students walk in with Spanish music BLARING ("Do you dance to it?" You may ask. "Have I feet?" I reply.)
2) Attendance (rather good for learning names, not as good with mumbling faces)
3) Fuego [warmup]
4) Frantically check fuegos, and convince myself that a] I have time, and b] I must shoot for 100% accuracy, because that's how they'll learn, and c] I might not be 100% accurate now, but that's just so that I'll be 100% accurate later.
5) Go over Fuego
6) Work on story as a class
7) Work on Dia de los Muertos. 7th graders research & work on their posters, 8th graders build their altar and research their person. I usually walk around the class, and try to check in with each group at least once per day. That last part can be a little awkward with slow-working groups, because they say, "same as yesterday," and I don't really know how to respond. At this point, I don't want to say, "you're wasting time,"--because I'm the kind of person who processes in the background, looks like he's not doing stuff, then does everything when my brain stops percolating, and I don't know the kids nearly well enough to know the difference--but I know that I will need to soon. 
8) Students estimate their own participation score, and go.

And that's the basic class. For four periods every day (one period is for prep, and one is for Social Studies). I know that it might not sound exciting, but I'm loving it. There's just such a positive, frantic energy to the classroom, the kind that I haven't really felt since Japan. In my experiences, I never felt anything like this working with elementary schoolers. We were always too nervous about them getting lost.

Anyway, the fun thing about working in a school will always be the stories that I can get out of it. First off, the narrative stories. Yes, I got to guide a group through the first part, which starts with an image, and gets into developing a character. It reminded me a lot of improv club, at times. Basically, the teacher elicits answers by asking a question (in Spanish), which the students are expected to respond to in Spanish. Here's an example of a character that we made (written by me):

My handwriting is so much better than it was...

So, we started with the image (ghost), then we got a name (Clyde). The class decided that he had no hair, and two-purple eyes (Have I mentioned that these kids are the gaudiest kids on the planet? They make Las Vegas look earthy-toned in comparison. It fills me with such glee), and is angry. We also have Sebastian the pan de muerto, Casper the ghost (that one made me smile), but it was the last one that I liked the best.

So, the CT's leading. We have our image--pan (Spanish for bread)--and she's asking for names. "Three Grain Variety" one students says. "Garfield," says another. Then we get down to the last student. The quiet one. The one who never says much, but clearly has a lot going through his head. The teacher calls on him. "Peter," he says, muttering a second word. "?Que?" The teacher replies. "Peter pan!" He calls out. And the entire class promptly loses it. Because, quite frankly, it was one of the more creative names of the week. So, naturally, we are writing a story about Peter pan, and it is glorious.

One last note: Social Studies. The teacher had the kids go through a simulation the other day, based on the plague. See, they've been studying the medieval period, and he wanted them to get an idea what the spread would be like (also, side note: the textbook failed to mention that the plague was probably spread by the fact that the mongols like catapulting dead, plague filled bodies into cities. Really, it makes me question just what they find important.) How it worked was the kids went, "city" to, "city," and pulled beans out of a bag depending on the number of nights they stayed. If they pulled all white beans, they were fine. If they pulled out a red bean, they got the plague, while a speckled bean gave them cholera. They then spread 1 or 2 beans to the next town, and rolled to see if they got to be the 1 in 36 who survived (none of them were). All that I can say is, my goodness, but there was a lot of death. about 1/3 of the kids dies of the plague while about half the kids died overall (cholera was a bigger threat than normal. C'est la vid). Still, it was a fun experience. The kids then started talking about it online. It was fun to see their posts, ranging from insightful to...lacking a certain ju nu se pa...such as depth, or more than two words. 

Anyway, time for bed. Tomorrow begins another week, a Happy Monday, and desolate faces wishing for a longer weekend.

This has been another (actually) exciting adventure in the Austentatious. If you liked it, tell your friends. If you hated it, tell your enemies. And if you don't care either way, then tell everyone. Good night.