Over ten percent of the kids on our sixth grade team have been out sick this week. Many families are heeding the flu precautions to keep home any child sick with a fever, but some are not. I've sent several students complaining of headache and chills to the clinic. A couple have mentioned that they were not feeling well the night before or even that morning, but their parents told them they had to go to school.
The health department recommends keeping a child away from school for twenty-four hours after he or she has been free of a fever, without medication. Still, we've had kids show up in the morning, go home by nine, and come back a day later, only to be out the next. No wonder the flu is spreading. Probably the worst case I've heard so far is the dad who called on conference day to say that his son had thrown up that morning and had a slight fever. Our conferences are student-led, so the teacher asked if he would like to reschedule. "No," he said, "Next week is busy for me. He can suck it up for half an hour."
Suck it up? Maybe. But can he hold it in so the rest of us don't get it, too?
Friday, October 9, 2009
Thursday, October 8, 2009
Choux de Bruxelles
So the kids are working on drafts of free verse poetry, and I stop to confer briefly with one student. She's composing a poem about how yucky brussel sprouts are. "Yes," I whisper, "I can tell that you don't like them, but what I'm missing is convincing details and a reason why you're taking the time to put these thoughts on paper. What do you want your audience to get from this?"
"That I hate brussel sprouts," she answered. "They're really gross."
"Yeah," I said, "but I like brussel sprouts. What's your message for me?"
She raised her eye brows in disbelief. "Ewww," she replied.
"That's it?" I asked. I thought for a moment. "Do you like bacon?"
"Everyone likes bacon," she said.
Now we had the attention of the girls sitting near her, too. They, too, nodded in support of bacon.
"Well," I told her, "I roast my brussel sprouts with bacon and potatoes. They're delicious that way."
She had the grace to admit that the dish didn't sound too bad. The other two girls asked for the recipe.
"That I hate brussel sprouts," she answered. "They're really gross."
"Yeah," I said, "but I like brussel sprouts. What's your message for me?"
She raised her eye brows in disbelief. "Ewww," she replied.
"That's it?" I asked. I thought for a moment. "Do you like bacon?"
"Everyone likes bacon," she said.
Now we had the attention of the girls sitting near her, too. They, too, nodded in support of bacon.
"Well," I told her, "I roast my brussel sprouts with bacon and potatoes. They're delicious that way."
She had the grace to admit that the dish didn't sound too bad. The other two girls asked for the recipe.
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
What Really Counts
I'm of two minds tonight, thinking about all that's going on at school-- preparing the students for conferences, writing free verse poetry, the text book ultimatum handed down from central office, IB planning, and the first of our regular ELA professional learning community meetings-- all of this happened today, and all of it was overshadowed by the news that our dear Judy has taken a turn for the worst.
Judy is my sister-in-law's mother; I've written of her here twice before-- in Thicker than Blood and Preservation. The sorrow of knowing that these are her last days makes everything else seem like a stupid chore. Driving home tonight after we stopped by to see her, it seemed wrong that everyone was going about their business as usual, waiting for the bus, playing at the park, walking the dog. How could any of that matter?
Judy is my sister-in-law's mother; I've written of her here twice before-- in Thicker than Blood and Preservation. The sorrow of knowing that these are her last days makes everything else seem like a stupid chore. Driving home tonight after we stopped by to see her, it seemed wrong that everyone was going about their business as usual, waiting for the bus, playing at the park, walking the dog. How could any of that matter?
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
Redundancy
There is a HUGE spider spinning her web on our front porch at this very moment. In the interest of housekeeping, I know I should take my broom and either shoo her away or smush her guts out and then clean up her cobwebs, but I'm much too impressed by her size and skills, not to mention her smarts, to do her any harm. She's building in wide-open air right in front of the light. To be accurate, it looks like she's actually re-building; a location like that must get a lot of heavy action, and that can do some serious damage to filament, so she eats, and then she repairs, so that she can eat again.
Oh, and that meeting this morning? Both conferences and study hall were indeed on the agenda. In the name of consistency and equity we all agreed to what we've agreed to before. I'm sure it will last until we agree to it again.
Oh, and that meeting this morning? Both conferences and study hall were indeed on the agenda. In the name of consistency and equity we all agreed to what we've agreed to before. I'm sure it will last until we agree to it again.
Monday, October 5, 2009
Rumor Has It
I happen to know, from an inside source, that tomorrow at our weekly team leaders' meeting, someone will bring up the issue of after school study hall. As long as I've been at my school, the sixth grade has offered what we call "Homework Club" every Monday, Tuesday and Thursday for an hour after school. Historically, it started out a little on the punitive side; we offered it as a place to get some help and a head start on your homework, but it was run as an after school detention, too. It took a few years to separate those two very different activities, but once we did, the study hall became a much more productive place.
It's always one of the first interventions we suggest to students who are struggling, and mid-year, especially after progress reports go home, we really get a full house. 15-20 kids come voluntarily (or with a bit of parental prodding). In addition to being staffed by a team teacher, we have supplies and text books; we give them a snack and a frequent attendance punch card that they can trade for a few points of extra credit, too. For some of our kids, all that turns out to be very helpful.
So helpful, in fact, that a few years ago, our school adopted it as a blanket policy. Our principal removed all of our before and after school hall duty time in exchange for the teachers on each team agreeing to provide study hall three days a week. On our team, this year, that worked out to thirteen days each where we committed to staying 30 minutes past our contract time. Intructional assistants are responsible for all the hall duty that we used to sign up for, and, minute for minute, it works out to be a pretty even swap.
The principal cannot require us to work beyond our contract day, though, and over the years, there has been a breakdown in this shared responsibility. Rumor has it that a few teachers refuse to supervise study hall at all, and that 3 of the 6 teams are only offering it two days a week. That's the issue that I hear will be on the agenda tomorrow. I'll let you know how it all goes down.
It's always one of the first interventions we suggest to students who are struggling, and mid-year, especially after progress reports go home, we really get a full house. 15-20 kids come voluntarily (or with a bit of parental prodding). In addition to being staffed by a team teacher, we have supplies and text books; we give them a snack and a frequent attendance punch card that they can trade for a few points of extra credit, too. For some of our kids, all that turns out to be very helpful.
So helpful, in fact, that a few years ago, our school adopted it as a blanket policy. Our principal removed all of our before and after school hall duty time in exchange for the teachers on each team agreeing to provide study hall three days a week. On our team, this year, that worked out to thirteen days each where we committed to staying 30 minutes past our contract time. Intructional assistants are responsible for all the hall duty that we used to sign up for, and, minute for minute, it works out to be a pretty even swap.
The principal cannot require us to work beyond our contract day, though, and over the years, there has been a breakdown in this shared responsibility. Rumor has it that a few teachers refuse to supervise study hall at all, and that 3 of the 6 teams are only offering it two days a week. That's the issue that I hear will be on the agenda tomorrow. I'll let you know how it all goes down.
Sunday, October 4, 2009
Consistency Counts
My sister-in-law and I teach at the same school; she is the art teacher, and I teach sixth grade language arts. We're about the same age, but this is only her second year of full-time teaching. An artist herself, she was a stay-at-home mom for my nephews until just a few years ago. When both the boys were in school, she decided to substitute teach for the extra income, and she found a second calling in art education. It took some time to get her credits and credentials, but last year she got her first "real" teaching job, and now we're colleagues, too.
Despite the occasional mail mix-up (our boxes are right next to each other), I couldn't be happier to have her teaching in the same school. Her perspective as new teacher, elective teacher, and former middle-school parent gives me a lot of interesting insight on things, too. Take, for example, conferences, which we have coming up next week. At our school, the conferences are student-led, and conducted through teacher advisory, or homeroom. Our TAs are heterogeneous, and all full-time teachers have one, so that means that I have students in my homeroom whom I do not teach, as do all of us, but the numbers are a bit higher for the the PE teachers, the elective teachers, the foreign language teachers, etc.
Before student-led conferences, this was a source of tension at this time of the year. Often, parents did not want to confer with someone who didn't actually teach their child, and preferably teach him or her a "core" subject-- science, social studies, language arts, or math. That meant that core teachers shouldered much more of a burden on conference day. Perhaps more subtly, this attitude also undermines the value of an advisory period, which is one of the cornerstones of the middle school model. It is our responsibility as teacher advisors to know how each student is progressing, so that we can offer the appropriate support. TA should be more than taking attendance and reading the paper while the kids chat and desperately try to finish last night's homework.
Back to conferences, then: When our school committed to student-led conferences, we agreed that they would be through advisory without exception. I admit that I was skeptical, but we were given tools to allow the students to do a frank self-assessment; we had teacher feedback on both that same instrument and in the form of current grades, and using those, we guided the students to set some goals for themselves. On conference day, the students presented all that same information to their parents, and we were there as support, resource, and witness. The response was overwhelmingly positive from parents, students, and teachers. We had found an incredibly successful model for the middle school conference.
Flash forward a couple of years: we're slipping. Some TAs are being formed on the basis of whether or not the teacher has those students in class. Some second language and special education teachers are pulling their caseloads from other TAs for conferences and then parceling out those students that they don't teach in return. As a result, my sister-in-law must meet with four students who are not in her homeroom, and whom she neither teaches nor worked with to prepare for conferences, and their parents.
That's lame, and it only serves to justify the actions of that teacher everyone heard about who sits at his desk, "working" on the computer while his students and their parents confer. Really? Why didn't they all just stay home?
Despite the occasional mail mix-up (our boxes are right next to each other), I couldn't be happier to have her teaching in the same school. Her perspective as new teacher, elective teacher, and former middle-school parent gives me a lot of interesting insight on things, too. Take, for example, conferences, which we have coming up next week. At our school, the conferences are student-led, and conducted through teacher advisory, or homeroom. Our TAs are heterogeneous, and all full-time teachers have one, so that means that I have students in my homeroom whom I do not teach, as do all of us, but the numbers are a bit higher for the the PE teachers, the elective teachers, the foreign language teachers, etc.
Before student-led conferences, this was a source of tension at this time of the year. Often, parents did not want to confer with someone who didn't actually teach their child, and preferably teach him or her a "core" subject-- science, social studies, language arts, or math. That meant that core teachers shouldered much more of a burden on conference day. Perhaps more subtly, this attitude also undermines the value of an advisory period, which is one of the cornerstones of the middle school model. It is our responsibility as teacher advisors to know how each student is progressing, so that we can offer the appropriate support. TA should be more than taking attendance and reading the paper while the kids chat and desperately try to finish last night's homework.
Back to conferences, then: When our school committed to student-led conferences, we agreed that they would be through advisory without exception. I admit that I was skeptical, but we were given tools to allow the students to do a frank self-assessment; we had teacher feedback on both that same instrument and in the form of current grades, and using those, we guided the students to set some goals for themselves. On conference day, the students presented all that same information to their parents, and we were there as support, resource, and witness. The response was overwhelmingly positive from parents, students, and teachers. We had found an incredibly successful model for the middle school conference.
Flash forward a couple of years: we're slipping. Some TAs are being formed on the basis of whether or not the teacher has those students in class. Some second language and special education teachers are pulling their caseloads from other TAs for conferences and then parceling out those students that they don't teach in return. As a result, my sister-in-law must meet with four students who are not in her homeroom, and whom she neither teaches nor worked with to prepare for conferences, and their parents.
That's lame, and it only serves to justify the actions of that teacher everyone heard about who sits at his desk, "working" on the computer while his students and their parents confer. Really? Why didn't they all just stay home?
Saturday, October 3, 2009
Party by Aphid H
We celebrated my sister-in-law's birthday tonight. It's kind of our thing that we all get together and enjoy a special meal. I planned the menu for this one, and we had halibut poached with leeks, wild mushrooms, and little neck clams served over risotto milanese fritters. We started with stuffed squash blossoms, cheese, and pate, and there was also an arugula salad with roasted butternut squash and chevre.
Right before we put dinner on the table, Heidi slipped an apple and pear tarte tatin into the oven, and while the plates were being cleared, Riley and Treat played with the 13 "happy birthday" letter candles to find the most interesting anagram. Not long after that, we sang a rousing version of "H-hay bad trippy" to you and enjoyed the warm tart and ice cream.
One of the gifts didn't arrive in time, and so, to tide her over until the clogs got here, I took the catalog description and made a wordle and then rolled it into a scroll tied with a nice ribbon. Passing it around the table, we all agreed that if we wanted a clear idea of the value of our gifts, then the wordle should be de rigeur from now on.
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