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!