Promise or Threat?

Seventh grade, after a failed attempt at achieving 1 minute of silence:


Mr. F: "Guys, I just don't get it. Why can't we just be quiet, absolutely no noise, for just one minute? Why are you so scared of silence?"

(Brief pause)

O: "Son! You should be scared walkin' home tonight."

I did make it home safely that day.

Oh no, Bono!

A, an eighth grade student featured elsewhere on this blog, is part of a (in my opinion) well intentioned school ambassadors program. A curious and perhaps cynical colleague of mine wanted to further understand the educational validity of such a program:

Mr. J: "I'm just asking A, what's an ambassador?"
A: "It's when we get out of class to go to meetings and then we..."
Mr. J: "No, no...in real life. For example, what does a Goodwill Ambassador do?"
A (after a long and thoughtful pause): "They are like the substitute president. Of the world."

Do as I say, not as I...say

At a recent science and social studies department meeting, discussion was focused on methods of enriching vocabulary and modeling proper grammar usage in the speaking and writing of our students (with the ultimate goal of raising test scores). The school's PSAT prep class teacher, when speaking of a particular student's outstanding score from this year, said, without hesitation:

"Based on the work he did in class, I'm not surprised he did good."

Memory lane

Some readers may recall a former student of mine, M, from last April's "You blue it", and "BlueTube". I like to think that M and I have made peace since that rather turbulent time; we've even had many pleasant exchanges in the past few months. However, at no point during those exchanges have we discussed either of the incidents that I wrote about previously. M, apparently, has not forgotten:

M(earnestly): "Mr. F? Okay, okay. All jokes aside. You really do look like Steve from Blues Clues."

Student Profile: S

The post "Special K" (December 1st, 2008), outlined the classwork policies of my school's technology teacher. I think, if only for the purposes of this blog, having written evidence of student (non)achievement is an educational priority. A sampling of the work that sixth grader S has submitted in technology class follows:

Assignment 1:
Write a 300 word composition comparing and contrasting two videos seen in class.

S's response:
The 2 video were good but the differents in that you can change the color...it's almost like a smart boared....it wasen't a touch screen.

Assignment 2:
Answer the following questions in complete sentences, providing evidence from the reading.
1. Who should use Touchlib?
2. How is Tbeta unique?

S's response:
1. to see how to use a touch screen
2. by being unique

Assignment 3:
What is your favorite video game? Describe which elements of game design discussed in class make the game enjoyable.

S's response:
My favorite game is grand theft auto., because the music is great, the mission is even beter. The object of the game is to get money for his sick brother. So you have to do mission that get you in a lot of troble by the police. The graphic is really cool. And the killing is cool.

To be fair to S, the third assignment can almost be considered complete and semi-coherent.

I now have reason to believe in educational karma, or irony at the very least: The original version of this post was to begin with the words "S is not my student...". I was informed just this morning that, at his mother's request, S is now officially a music student due to his "poor performance" in technology class.

This is only a test...

High-stakes standardized testing, a plague that affects most urban schools, I thought I would avoid by becoming a music teacher. Yet my school, persistent in destroying any remnants of my utopian educational philosophy, has, more frequently than I would like, recruited me as a proctor for these exams (totalling several days per year). For the sixth, seventh, and eighth grade classes (which each contain around 60 students), there are myriad "testing mods" that must be provided. Each student fits into one of the following categories (these divisive measures should provide rationale for the necessity of my impressment):

• Standard Time
• Standard Time x 1.5
• Standard Time x 1.5 + Directions read aloud
• Standard Time x 1.5 + Directions read aloud x 2
• Standard Time x 1.5 + Directions read aloud + Questions and Answers read aloud (for non-reading tests only)
  
• Standard Time x 1.5 + Directions read aloud x 2 + Questions and Answers read aloud (for non-reading tests only)
• Standard Time x 2
• Standard Time x 2 + Directions read aloud
• Standard Time x 2 + Directions read aloud x 2
• Standard Time x 2 + Directions read aloud + Questions and Answers read aloud (for non-reading tests only)
• Standard Time x 2 + Directions read aloud x 2 + Questions and Answers read aloud (for non-reading tests only)

Even with all of this help, only about 41% of students met or exceeded standards on last year's exam.

Pot? Meet kettle.

Some students often find difficulty in understanding that their teachers are human beings susceptible to occasional spells of anger, rage, and frustration. While this blog is composed almost exclusively of student contributions, I thought it might be a good idea to give a written account of educator fallibility. While I am as guilty as any other teacher, these quotations are not entirely my own, but are instead a survey of many teachers' verbal gaffes:

"There's no f*cking cursing in my room, get it!?"

"You know, there's a dictionary over there. Find the word 'sociopath'. I think you should look it up."

"I need you to let me help you! I can help you. Him (pointing)? I can't help him. The type of help he needs, I'm not qualified to give."

"Can you move your seat over there, please? This space is for students. The pouty baby section is over there."

And my favorite...

"I'm never helping you again! You were a waste of your parents' good sex!"