What if...

What if...

the very last option for reducing the state's massive debt was to make cuts in an already struggling education system?

North Carolina was not ranked 31st in average public school teacher salaries?

more parents gave a flying rip how the continued budgetary shortfalls are affecting their children's education by forcing the most qualified educators to find employment elsewhere?

all the members of the North Carolina General Assembly took a 20-30% paycut?

each parent in this state was required to spend 2 full weeks per school year in the classroom with the teachers?

each member of the North Carolina General Assembly was required to spend 2 full weeks per school year in the classroom?

the average joe knew how much dedicated educators give of themselves, time, and money in the slightest hope that we can make a difference in at least one kid's life?

teachers were allowed to educate students in the classroom, instead of teaching students only the skills needed to pass an EOG (end of grade) test?

all students cared as much about their learning as teachers do?

all parents cared as much about their child's learning as teachers do?

North Carolina General Assembly members cared as much about the state's children as teachers do?

What if...?
What if...?
What if...?

As a wise old man once told me, "What if the Queen had balls?", you guessed it...she'd be King!

The Bus Stop pt. 3

Before reading part 3 I would suggest you go back and reread part 1 from August 26th and part 2 from September 8th. Enjoy part 3 and be sure to become a follower if you're not already. Part 4 will be here before you know it. :)

Since last week my world has flipped upside down…literally and figuratively. Since last week there is not much I wouldn’t give to return to my once boring, but beautifully predictable life. As I’m rotated upside down in an attempt to use traction to heal my broken back (I was serious about my world literally turning upside down) I cannot help but think how one day I’m a nobody going through life’s daily highs and lows; one day later I’ve become an urban legend. You have undoubtedly read or listened to several different versions of what happened last week at the bus stop. Though I’m sure the people who were there believe in their heart of hearts that what they saw actually happened, I must respectfully ask you to ignore all you’ve read or heard as I’m about to relay what really happened.


Before I begin I must admit that throughout so much of my life I have never been particularly religious, but if there is a higher power I mustn’t go any further without thanking him or her for blessing me with a nurse caring, or perhaps curious enough, to listen and record my story as it truly happened. Another in my long list of injuries obtained from last week’s ‘incident’ is the fact that I’m told I fractured both eye sockets. The terrible swelling has rendered me temporarily blind, but luckily I am still able to speak and hear relatively well during the fleeting moments of consciousness I have had since I arrived.

I never know how long I will be conscious, but once I’m aware enough to do so I call for the nurse. Ideally, the nurse whom I’ve begun to tell the true story of what occurred last week is on duty and has time to transcribe my version of what occurred for however long I’m awake. Unfortunately, the nurse only comes about half the time I call. Other nurses I do not care to speak with float in and out, but I remain quiet. At any rate…enough about how you are able to read this, and onto The Bus Stop as I like to call the incident.

Though the city of Savannah is quite car friendly, despite it’s size and population, I have been taking the bus to and from work for the past several years for really no other reason than the fact that it’s cheaper, and other than work I do not really have anywhere to go or anyone to see. Roughly two weeks before the ‘incident’ I arrived at the bus stop as usual on my way to work the early shift as a produce manager at Kroger supermarket. Not a prestigious occupation by any stretch of the imagination but it is an honest living, and one I rather enjoy because it does not allow for a lot of pointless chit-chat with co- workers or customers. The normal cast of characters was at the bus stop that morning two weeks ago…an older one legged housekeeper named Penelope, a middle aged Asian man who works at a family owned shoe repair store in the downtown area, and a variety of day laborers traveling to destinations unknown.

Originally from the Dominican Republic, Penelope has been a staple at this bus stop six out of seven mornings since I began traveling by bus. Throughout the years we have spoken once in awhile, mostly morning pleasantries about the weather, but I learned from her talks with others at the stop that she lost her right leg just below the knee as a child in her home country. Apparently her father accidentally ran over her with a tractor as she was playing tag with her older brother in the sugarcane fields. Thom, the Asian shoe shop man, talks incessantly to anyone that will listen, but I could not begin to tell you anything about him other than what I already have. He became a regular at the stop about a year ago, and I do everything in my power to avoid him. Thom is a man with constant problems, and a constant need to tell people about them. I suppose in his own way he may be a nice man. However, my life, until recently, has been carefully designed to be as problem free as humanly possible, so I have no desire to listen to other’s issues.

I saw him as the bus approached the stop that morning two weeks ago. Several things went through my mind as I watched him sitting at the rear of the bus…is someone playing a joke on me, is it simply a coincidence that someone is dressed in all white wearing a white hat, or am I just seeing things. As quickly as these thoughts went through my mind, I realized that I had never told anyone of the man in white that haunts my dreams. No one could have played this incredibly cruel joke on me, because no one knew about the man in white. My next hope that someone was simply dressed in all white was quickly dashed as I realized that just like in my dreams I could not see the man’s face. That left the final option, and the one I was so reluctant to face, that I was seeing things. I have no family history of dementia, schizophrenia, or hallucinations, so the possibility I was experiencing any of these left me paralyzed with fear.

At the moment as the bus came to a complete stop, I was only vaguely aware of the customers exiting and entering the bus. My entire being was absorbed by the man in white sitting on the back of the bus. So frozen in time was I that not even Penelope could roust me from my trance…”Eliot, the bus is here. Eliot!” In the end her need to be to work on time outweighed her need to make sure the man she barely knew, though he was at the bus stop every morning, got on the bus. That morning I never did get on the bus. I also never took my eyes off the man in white. As the bus slowly pulled away from the stop, the man in white’s head methodically turned to face me and he nodded. Still unable to see his face I watched as the brim of his oversized hat went up and down as he nodded. To this day I can not tell you how long I stood frozen at the bus stop after the bus rolled away. It could have been thirty seconds or three hours. My next conscious moment of awareness occurred as the cab I decided to take to work turned into the Kroger parking lot. All day long I could not get the man in white off my mind. How was it possible that the man in white…the goddamned man in white who had been part of my dreams for as long as I could remember suddenly manifest himself into my waking reality?

Testicles & Poop

Now that I've grabbed your attention from the very intriguing title I will do what I can to keep it. For any new readers I would like to caution you that I live by the philosophy that it is better to laugh than cry. For all my loyal followers I would like to remind you of my philosophy, and beg of you to keep it in mind as you read the following.

Yet another of the most uncomfortable times of my life occurred recently at the local learning center where I work part time.

As I prepared to work with my first student of the day, I also prepared myself mentally for what I knew was coming, as I had worked with the student several times before. The child has Down's Syndrome, and based on my time spent coaching Special Olympics for the past five years, I would describe him as low to medium functioning. The time arrives and in he walks/runs/hobbles over to my table. I know immediately that something is different about the student, because never before has he showed any trouble walking.

I did not have to wait long to find out what was different about the young man of 7 years old. In the past the student has had a very difficult time pronouncing even one syllable words, yet as he arrived at my table he happily announced to me, "I went to the doctor." Though slightly taken aback that an entire sentence had been spoken by him I replied, "Oh yeah...are you okay?" Why I set myself up like this I still wonder, but he instantly and loudly replied while pointing to his crotch in a room full of other students and instructors, "MY TESTICLES!"

Needless to say I nearly choked to death on my morning coffee that I happened to be sipping at the time. With every eye in the entire room on me now all I could think to say was, "OOOOkay." He would go on to point to his crotch and loudly say "TESTICLES!" a few more times before settling down. The only real positive to come of the situation is that I now knew why he was walking oddly.

For the next 15-20 minutes the young man worked very hard, and I mistakenly thought the worst was over. It was shortly after this wonderful thought crossed my mind that the young man's head snapped up and he announced, "I gotta poop." He was up and hobbling to the restroom before I had even processed what he had just said. As he was gone I sat there grateful for the peace and quiet. I checked the clock while he was gone to find that I unbelievably still had another 20 minutes to go before the end of the instructional hour. It would turn out to be the longest 20 minutes of my life. He returned from the restroom, and within about 10 seconds I realized that something had gone horribly wrong. I'm not sure what the young man's restroom experience was, but what I can state with certainty is that for the next 20 minutes of my life I felt as if I were living and breathing from inside a dirty diaper.

As the hour ended, I quickly got up and went to tell the center's director that I thought the young man had used the bathroom on himself. Her reply, "You can't be serious." to which I said "Sadly, I am." She looked at the student who was strolling bowlegged towards the exit door, looks back at me, and says, "Well you know he had surgery on his testicles 2 days ago." With that comment I clocked out and left the building. I do love teaching!

Patience is a Virtue!

In recent weeks at my part time job at a local learning center I was told that a mother of a young special needs student requested that I be the only instructor to work with her son from now on. I would like to attribute her request to the fact that I'm such a great instructor and that I work well with student's that have special needs, but unfortunately I think I was just a victim of circumstance and luck. The young man is around 7 years old and has Down's Syndrome. He is rather notorious at the learning center for being difficult to deal with, and very few other instructors ever even have the chance to teach this student anything because his behavior is so erratic.

Since I do not typically work with students of his age or course of study (beginning reader) I never had to work with this particular student, but had witnessed the chaos he often created each Saturday morning. Well...it so happens that about a month ago I went into work on a Saturday morning to find that this student had been assigned to my table. Even though I had never been trained in beginner reading instruction I was told that basically the decision makers had decided to see how he would work with me since everyone else had been largely unsuccessful in dealing with him and his behaviors. That's right...I was the LAST option!

As the student entered that Saturday morning all eyes were on my table anxious to witness the disaster that was sure to ensue. Amazingly, the anticipated disaster never occurred. As most educators quickly realize, many students react to and behave differently for different teachers. On this particular day the student was a complete joy. He read books to me, he wrote, he did math, he remained seated, and his overall behavior was impeccably perfect. Everyone, including me, was pleasantly surprised at how well the student did. The information was shared with his mother, and of course she requested that he only work with me from now on. The next two weeks were a repeat performance of his spectacular debut with me...and then yesterday happened.

The first fifteen minutes of the instructional hour began as the others had. The student was well behaved and completed his work, and then came the chaos. The remainder of the hour was mostly a blur of objects being thrown, screaming, and yours truly being made very uncomfortable. I'm still clueless as to what set this kid off, but before I even had time to really react the student had left his seat, walked around the table to where I was seated, opened my cabinet drawer, and began throwing transparencies all over the place. Momentarily I was fixated on the absolute joy expressed in his young face as he gleefully threw the objects, and it left me speechless. I could only watch as he tossed transparencies with overwhelming joy. Soon enough I had regained my composure and was able to get him to stop. Not more than 10 seconds after I had stopped that throwing fit, he seemed to see all the materials on the table that he had been working on for the first time. As you have probably guessed he began throwing all of those things off the front of the table. With the much needed aid of a co-worker we were able to get the student seated again and back to work...at least for a very brief time. Not too long after that I was beraded with a chorus of "NO'S!!" everytime I asked him to complete a task. The volume and intensity of his refusals grew with each of my demands.

Some time around this point I vaguely remember wondering if I would be fired if I just got up, clocked out, and left the building. In the end I decided to stay since there was only about 10 minutes left in the instructional hour, and I figured what can really go wrong in 10 minutes. As it turns out...a lot. Once again with 'ninja like' quickness the student had left his seat and was standing beside me. Trying to make the best of the situation I said something like, "OK...you can stand here if you want, but we have to do some work." To this the student replied, "NOOOO!!" The next thing that happened completely threw me for a loop. The student, while he was already attempting to do this, says to me, "Let me sit in your lap." As anyone who knows me will tell you I'm not the touchy-feely type, and my initial impulse was to pick the kid up and throw him across the room. Instead I finally got my turn to say, "NOOOOOO!!!" Not one to easily take no for an answer the student spent the last 5 minutes of the instructional hour trying unsuccessfully to sit in my lap. I wish I had video footage that I could attach to this blog so everyone could see the 'trying to climb in your lap/me continually moving out of the way' dance that occurred between the two of us. It was a very uncomfortable hour in my life, but my hope is that my loyal readers will get a chuckle from this story. Patience is indeed a virtue!!!

When is Enough Enough?

As anyone in the education business knows teachers in today's schools are called upon to be all things to all students, but at what point is enough enough? I would assume that most people that choose this profession do so primarily because they want to make some sort of difference in the lives of our students, but when is enough enough? I completely understand that teaching at the middle school level brings with it all sorts of unique challenges not faced by educators teaching K-5 or high school, but how many times do you tell a student to correct the errors of their ways, how many opportunities do you provide them to do the right thing, and how much of yourself do you give to this occupation and your students before you say enough is enough?

How is it possible that our society has helped to create students so screwed up that the teachers care more about our their futures than they do? I, along with so many of my colleagues, give so much of ourselves each and everyday to our students simply because as educators we care about every single student that enters our classroom. The unfortunate, and terribly tragic, other side of this story is that we teach some students that could care less about themselves, their future, or anything else of substance. As educators we can easily blame parents, some of which should not even be allowed to raise a guinea pig, much less a human being. We could easily blame a pop culture and society that places more value on the ability to dunk a basketball or run fast, than it does on simply being able to read. The bottom line is that we could blame people and circumstances forever, and it still will not change the fact that some of our students JUST DO NOT CARE!

This forces me to put in writing what I have been asking myself for several weeks now...

If I have students that do not care about themselves, their future, their education, anything of substance, or even care about the fact that I care about those things for them then what the hell am I doing in the classroom? It certainly isn't for the large checks I receive each month (Enter: heavy sarcasm), nor is it the copious amounts of free time afforded to me by this line of employment (Enter: laugh out loud sarcasm). I entered this profession to make a positive impact in the lives of my students, and to help them to not make the same mistakes I made at their age. For some I have had success, but the little dirty secret that no ones talks about with teaching is this...most educators, even if they have had a positive impact on one million students, will be driven to the brink of insanity by the one they could never reach.

Enough may very well be enough for this guy!

Dear Parents...

This blog was originally intended to be about the lack of respect many students exhibit in today's classrooms and in many ways it still is, but after recent events I have decided instead to write a letter to all the parents of those students we try so hard to educate every day.

If you're a parent who has raised a wonderfully well behaved, respectful, studious student that cares about his or her education I, along with every other educator across the world, thanks you from the bottom of our teaching hearts. There is no need for you to read any further, unless you're interested in how other parents are raising their children.
The rest of this letter is for every parent that may believe, however misguided, that they are doing a wonderful job raising their precious child and/or for those parents that are completely and utterly clueless as to how to raise a child to be a productive member of a civilized society.

When your child has been attending a middle school that has had the same uniform policy for 3 years, and you still send them to school looking like Stevie Wonder dressed them you're not helping your child.

When a teacher calls a parent we know is unemployed after 2:00 in the afternoon, and we wake you up, you're not helping your child.

When a teacher repeatedly requests a parent conference throughout the entire 9 weeks and is ignored until their precious child comes home with an F DELUXE REPORT CARD ROYALE W/CHEESE...you're not helping your child.

When you actually do decide to show up to a parent/teacher conference and walk in wearing house slippers and a robe, you're not helping your child.

If your precious child could care less whether we call you or not to discuss their bad behavior, you have failed as a parent.

If your child has been raised to not understand how to follow simple directions and rules this is a direct reflection of you. In this case you are once again not helping your child, and have in fact failed as a parent.

If your precious child has been told every single day to either stop talking, stop chewing gum, listen, ...etc, then it boils down to one of three things. 1) Your precious child is in fact a blazing idiot that will not function well in life and will end up being supported by children of parents who knew how to raise them correctly 2) Your precious child is a blazing idiot to stupid to understand things a dog can easily comprehend 3) Your precious child takes after you!

If anything in this letter has offended you take a guess as to what type of parent you are. If this letter has amused and delighted you then you're an awesome parent.

Where Did Respect Go?

That's the title of my upcoming blog, but it's not quite ready yet. I have a lot to say about this subject, and it is going to take a bit longer to make sure I word it just right so as not to offend anyone. I'll post on Facebook when this future masterpiece is ready!!

Mental Notes From Now On!

As my regular readers know by now some of my funniest blog material comes from my interactions with students at the learning center in which I tutor part time. This past Saturday I gathered material for what was to be an epic blog choc full of laughs. Unfortunately, my carelessness would lead to the following very embarrassing situation. In order to ensure that my material is relayed to my readers as accurately as possible I often jot down notes of the many funny and unusual things my students say or do. This is exactly what I was doing this past Saturday.

It is important to note before continuing that very few people know that I write this blog, which makes what happens even more embarrassing. It just so happens that this past Saturday I happened to tutor one of the strangest kids east of the Mississippi. I took a buttload of notes during the hour in which I was with him. All of the notes reference the many bizarre things he kept talking about. Here's the problem...I accidently left my notes and my work schedule for next week in a draw by my table. I did not realize I had left them behind until later that night. I immediately began freaking out and hoping beyond hope that I could get to the learning center Monday afternoon before anyone had a chance to go into that drawer.

Well...you guessed it. When I arrived at 3:00 to pick up the left behind notes there was only one employee working. This particular employee has no clue that I write this blog. As I entered the building I said the following, "Hey, I left my schedule in my drawer." To which she replied, "Yeah...I just saw your schedule and some paper with weird stuff written on it. I put them both in your box." I was horrified knowing that she had read my notes, because the notes read out of context make it seem like I'm a raving lunatic. I thought about trying to explain what the notes were, but could not think of a way to do so that would not make me seem like more of a psycho.
If at this point you think that I'm overreacting, here is exactly what is written in my notes. Imagine what the poor girl reading the following, who has no idea what the notes refer to, was thinking about me as she read these.

1. All weapons and army stuff from flea market for $5
2. Red haired sister...looks like Chucky, but her skin is not made of plastic
3. put on some muscle
4. torture terrorists
5. do for country, greatest country
6. arthritis popping knuckles
7. no lock on bedroom door
8. caramel on lips, so I don't need anymore twix
9. I wiped so much caramel on my pants they look like they do when me and my dad walk in the
Tar River
10. AC/DC Highway to Hell
11. teacher dug fingernails into my hands, and I still don't know how she is not in jail for child
abuse

What you just read were all things the student talked about during our hour together, but the poor girl at the learning center must now think that I am some delusional madman that records his mind rants!!

Any suggestions on how to make this situation better?

The Bus Stop pt. 2

Last month I turned forty-one. There is really nothing remarkable about me, despite whatever you have read in the papers. I’m average height and weight for a man who stands 5’9 ½, though I have to admit that I’ve noticed since turning forty that my waistline seems to keep expanding more and more each day. At the early age of twenty-six I began falling victim to the dreaded horseshoe balding pattern, so I decided on a whim to shave all my hair off. I’ve been bald ever since. I believe if you’re going to do something you should go balls to the wall, as my little league coach used to say. Nowadays, I have no real family to speak of. No kids. No wife. No girlfriend. In fact the last real meaningful relationship I had was with my old border collie Bozo who died two years ago at the ripe old age of thirteen. The only other thing of any real interest about me is that in a few short hours I’ll be dead.

To get you where we are, I think I’d better share where I’ve been. It all started with the man in white…the goddamn man in white. As early as elementary school I have had a recurring dream of the man in white. Who exactly is the man in white, and why did I ever start dreaming of him I don’t know. I will however share with you what I do know, and that involves five things that are an absolute certainty about the man in white:

Number One – He has haunted my dreams since I was eight years old.
Number Two – I have never seen his face.
Number Three – He has never spoken a word, nor made any sound at all.
Number Four – When I told my father about the dreams, he told me my imagination
was too big and proceeded to beat me with a power saw extension cord
for what seemed like forever. In reality, it was closer to fifteen
minutes. Throughout he repeated over and over the same five words
that I’ve never forgotten, “Do not ever come back!”
Number Five – I have never spoken another word about the man in white until this
moment.

The subject matter of the dream is of no importance to the man in white. He comes and goes throughout my dreams with the same frequency that the wind changes direction. Ever present and always lurking, I have on occasion tried to confront him when having particularly lucid dreams in which I am in control of myself in my dreams rather than simply watching events take place. Never once has a confrontation between me and the man in white been successful, as he is always just out of reach. Until recent events the man in white had become such a part of my life through his repeated visits to my dreams that I thought no more about him than a person thinks about breathing. Obviously, since last week I’ve done nothing but think of the man in white…the goddamn man in white.

"I got stuff to do!"

Here is yet another in my somewhat continuous installment of encounters with students that leave me scratching my head and saying, "uhhh...". A few weeks ago I had the thrill to tutor a student at a local learning center I've been working at part time for about 4 years. Upon entering the center and walking to my table I realized this was a student I had tutored for a couple of weeks when I first started. The young man I remember from 4 years ago was polite, intelligent, and a hardworker. Well...time certainly changed things.

Here is how the hour began, and please note that I'm writing this as close to word for word as possible.

ME: Hey, how are you today?

STUDENT: I don't know.

ME: What school do you go to?

STUDENT: I don't know.

ME: What's your favorite subject?

STUDENT: I don't know.

ME: What's your least favorite subject?

STUDENT: Math.

ME: Oh yeah...why is that?

STUDENT: Cause I get A's.

At this point my confusion begins, and by the end of the hour I would be left trying to figure out what the heck had just happened. After giving the student his first assignment the conversation continued,

ME: Do you understand what to do?

STUDENT: I don't know.

After a few minutes had passed...

ME: Do you need some help?

STUDENT: I don't know.

Once he had completed the assignment, he looks to me and says the following,

STUDENT: I'm done...this is 4th grade work. It's too easy for me.

ME: oh yeah.

The young man was absolutely correct in saying that the work was easy, and in fact it was 3rd grade work. However, after checking his work he got every single problem wrong !

This type of thing continued throughout the remainder of our time together, but there was one more incident of insane hilarity that occurred about 37 minutes in...

STUDENT: You owe me a thousand dollars.

ME: What? Why?

STUDENT: Cause you taught me how to do that.

Again, I'm left scratching my head as to what in the world he is talking about. The next thing to happen 2 minutes later put the icing on the cake.

STUDENT: I need to use the bathroom.

ME: OK...go ahead.

STUDENT: (screaming out loud as he is walking across the center to the restroom) I GOT STUFF TO DO!!

Of course all heads in the center turn to the young man who proceeds into the restroom totally unaware he has garnered the attention of everyone. He then spent the next 3-4 minutes in the restroom screaming a litany of unintelligible words.

The Bus Stop pt.1

My guess is that when my obituary is printed, my first name will be spelled incorrectly. I would also bet that where ever my body or ashes end up for what is suppose to be eternity the name recorded to tell the world that I, Eliott Jeffrey Florentine IV, lived and died in Savannah, GA will also be misspelled. To her credit my mother’s original intention was to name me Elliot; spelled correctly. The way my mom told the story to me and countless others during my childhood is that the attending nurse who completed the birth certificate the morning of my birth did not realize her mistake until my mother, Charlotte Florentine, had written out the Charl in her first name. The nurse stopped my mother immediately during mid signing, and apologetically pointed out her error. Whether it was the medication, or post birth hormonal fluctuations, I’ll never know, but my mom decided she liked that spelling better. She told the nurse, and nearly everyone she came in contact with over the course of her life that, “It will set him apart. It’s unique, and people will always remember that name because of its spelling.” I say over the course of her life, because she passed away six years ago at the relatively young age of sixty-three. A brain aneurysm as she napped in her favorite recliner. As for the name, it turns out she was right about people remembering it, but it’s got nothing to do with the spelling.

At one time my family was considered one step removed from southern royalty. Boy, times sure have changed. My great-grandfather, the first Elliot Jeffrey Florentine, used to own and operate five very successful family style restaurants throughout Savannah. He even had one in Beaufort, South Carolina, and in what would eventually become Garden City. Like thousands of businesses across the country the Great Depression of the early thirties wiped him out. The restaurants closed down and grandpa skipped town. He was just too embarrassed to stand in line at the very soup kitchen he used to send the restaurant’s leftovers and out-of-dates. Well…if I’m being honest, and at this moment I guess it can’t hurt, that is only half the truth. It is indeed true that the first Elliot, spelled correctly, did skip town, but despite what many members of my family still like to believe it had nothing to do with his embarrassment. The truth of the matter is that good’ol great grandpa was a shrewd businessman with his pulse on the free market. He could sniff out a changing economy quicker than a bloodhound could locate a bloody glove that was two feet in front of it.

Unbeknownst to the rest of the family, including dear sweet great grandma, the first Elliot, spelled correctly, sold off all the restaurants six months before the market crashed. He skipped town days after the bottom fell out with a buttload of money, and not one, but two of the waitresses from the old River Street location. A short time later the man who purchased the restaurants from great-grandpa tied two tire rims to each of his ankles, and threw himself into the river for which that very street is named. It wasn’t until his body washed up in South Carolina three days later that the mystery of what my great grandpa had done was revealed. Personally, I believe those events led to my family’s undoing for generations to come, and in many ways likely have a lot to do with why you’re now reading this.

Same Students, Different Year

Even for veteran teachers, each new school year brings with it new challenges. As I've discussed on recent posts I will face many new challenges this coming year including working with different staff members, teaching at a new grade level, becoming adjusted to working with a new principal, and teaching a new literacy program adopted by the county. However, above and beyond these challenges the one I'm most concerned with is being charged with teaching the same students I taught last year.

On the service this would not seem to be much of a problem, but with it comes many issues that I've never dealt with previously. One of the first is that 7th grade is such a transitive year for young people as they are in their adolescent prime. I have only ever taught 7th grade, so I have learned to adjust to those many changes and many personalities that 7th graders seem to have. This coming year I will have the same students for 8th grade. My hope is that many of the students have matured over the summer. It will be interesting to see how the students react to me, as well as how I react to them, since we already know each others strengths and weaknesses.

I pride myself on the fact that in previous years of teaching I learn as little about my incoming students as possible, so as not to prejudice myself in any way towards the student. This year the challenge for me will be to forget my past history with the students, and begin anew. I hope that the students will do the same in return. While there will be many students that are thrilled to have me as their teacher again, there will certainly be those that absolutely dread it. The same goes for me. There are so many students I'm am terribly excited to teach again. There are also some students that I'm quite Frankly not looking forward to dealing with again.

It should be an interesting year! Let me know if you have any suggestions for making this year's unusual circumstance go smoother.

Something for Nothing

Is it just me or does it seem that more and more people are developing a sense of personal entitlement? It has begun to feel like many, regardless of age, sex, race, or socioeconomic background, have an expectation to be provided things for free. As usual the trends that occur in society are often replicated in our schools. The sense of entitlement that has run rampant in so many facets of our daily lives has unfortunately invaded our schools, and it will prove disastrous for our American educational system if something is not done to solve this problem. From people throwing a fit to receive 'free' healthcare to parents writing letters to the local newspaper complaining that no one at the school would pay for her child's lunch when SHE forgot to give money to HER child. Needless to say things are getting out of control. The old adage that "anything free isn't worth having" seems to have been replaced with "anything you have to work for isn't worth having".

Perhaps I'm an oddball, but I cannot understand the mentality needed to go through life expecting everything to either be done for you or given to you. Many students that continually turn in sub standard work, when they turn in work at all, have the audacity to question you as to why their grade is not higher. Many students simply expect that you will provide them with school supplies, and often come to class completely unprepared. I could go on and on, but I think you get the picture. So where are our students learning that they don't need to do anything?

As a teacher I would like to place all the blame on the parents, but the fact is that many of our school policies encourage this entitlement mentality. It is a fact that in more cases than I want to believe possible parents are sending their children to school expecting the school system and the teachers to take care of their every need. The school system and/or the teachers usually go out of their way to ensure the student is provided the same opportunity as everyone else in the class...whether that means giving a student a pencil every single day to purchasing school clothes for a student. The entitlement monster continually feeds itself in that the parents expect the school and teachers to do everything for their child. The school and teachers are basically forced to fill the parental role for fear of lawsuits. The parent gets their way and the vicious handout cycle continues. Who is more to blame...the user or the supplier? I would love to hear your thoughts.

Here Comes August 25th!

We are quickly nearing the start of a new school year, and as it draws closer I find myself pondering the many new challenges I'll have to confront. I will no longer be teaching 7th grade language arts and social studies. For the first time I will be teaching those same subjects in the 8th grade. Along with getting myself familiar with the new curriculums, I have also had to prepare myself to teach a fairly new literacy program adopted by Pitt County Schools called LANGUAGE!. Only being placed in charge of teaching this new program would have been challenging enough in and of itself, but when coupled with teaching a new grade level as well I certainly have my work cut out for me in the coming school year. Addtionally, our school will have a new principal which is something else I have yet to experience in my young career. I am interested, and I must admit somewhat anxious, to see how things work with a new boss.

Along with those major changes and challenges I will face next year there is also the fact that I will have to get to know and work with an entirely different team of teachers and personalities. That also brings with it a certain level of anxiety, because I had developed a nice comfort level with my 7th grade team. We knew each other's teaching styles, personalities, likes and dislikes, strengths and weaknesses. Essentially, I will have to start from scratch in learning those things from my new team. When added to the changes and challenges I have already discussed the coming school year seems quite a daunting task to overcome.

Above and beyond all of these impending changes, and the one I am most concerned with, is the fact that I will be teaching many of the same students I taught last school year when they were in the 7th grade. I feel certain that many students will be thrilled with the idea of me being their language arts and/or social studies teacher again, and yet I also know that many students will not be pleased to have me as their teacher for another 180 days. People change and this is particularly true for students at the middle school level that are constantly dealing with the hormonal ups and downs and everything else that adolescence brings with it. At that age things that were once 'cool and fun' can become 'dull and unwanted' instantly, and vice versa. My other concern is how I will react and teach the same students I had last year. In some ways it will work to my advantage to already know my students, and in other ways I feel it will be detrimental because I will have no way of knowing in the beginning if that particular student has changed and/or matured. In part their (my students) reaction(s) to me will come from the changes they will have to deal with from me. Many of the things I could do at the 7th grade level will not work at the 8th grade level, so it will be fascinating to see what happens.

I will keep you posted! :)

Be Gone Political Correctness!

I continue to hope that our society begins to move away from the obsession it has with political correctness. My view is that political correctness has done more harm than good in the name of not wanting to label people or hurt feelings. Our society has become politically correct to the point of absurdity. It does not help anyone to overlook the fact that we all have cultural differences and a variety of issues that go along with those differences.

Creating schools that truly celebrate and recognize multicultural differences is a difficult task to say the least. At this point I think it can only exist within individual classrooms, and not entire schools. My reasoning is that I believe that until society comes to accept our multicultural differences, our schools cannot. On an individual classroom basis I feel that the number one thing that any educator can do to increase acceptance and awareness of the differences that exist between students and those students’ differences as compared to the teacher is to get to know the students as individuals. What is often overlooked by the teacher is the fact that the students need to get to know you. Many teachers never or rarely share anything about their own lives with the students, supposedly out of the fear that the student will know too much about them. My feeling is that the more students know about you, the more they will be able to relate to you and the greater the potential you will be able to change their lives.

Another essential key to getting students to become more accepting of one another’s differences and similarities is that teachers must be willing to reflect, and seriously analyze, their own teaching practices. It is vital that educators, from pre-school to graduate school, be willing to examine how they teach, analyze its effectiveness, know their students, and then be alright with making any needed adjustments even if it means taking yourself out of your comfort zone.
A couple of things I do within my classroom that really helps to bridge the gap of diversity is I constantly encourage students that make mistakes to learn to accept those mistakes and understand that making mistakes is part of life. So many of our students, particularly those marginalized, are so fearful of failure that they get to a point in which they do not even want to try anymore. I also set aside days that I reserve for simply sharing stories with each other about events and/or happenings in our lives. It is easier to accomplish as a teacher if you begin by sharing a story from your own life. I also like to have students draw their classmate’s names at random and have them write down at least one nice thing about that person. It goes a long way towards building acceptance among each other. The unfortunate thing is that in today’s ever increasing emphasis on high stakes testing it is literally sucking the options for creativity and exploration from the teacher. Namulundah Florence sums up the frustrations felt by many educators in the book Multiculturalism 101 on page 96, “Bureaucratic demands compel teachers to “teach to the test” rather than explore ways of making learning more meaningful.” (Florence, 2010)

AMEN!!!

Scabs and Failure

Once again faithful followers I have a summer tutoring story to share that treads ever so slightly upon the fence that separates sadness and hilarity. As I have mentioned before on previous post I would much rather laugh than cry, so please enjoy the following tale of scabs and failure.

Earlier today I had the joy of working with a student I have tutored before several times. I believe the little boy is 8 years old. Every time he has been assigned to my table, he seems to always have varying amounts of new scabs covering old wounds. This is nothing out of the ordinary as the rambunctious behavior of most boys his age often leads to accidents occuring. The issue I have is that half of the time he spends at my table is devoted solely to the picking, pulling, scraping, and jabbing of his scabs. It is disgusting, bizarre, and makes me want to vomit everytime I think about it like right now! It is clear from his perspective that he is not doing anything at all unusual or disgusting which creeps me out even more. Chances are he would be much further along in his parent's objective of improving his math skills if he were not engaged in trying to dissect himself half the time.

What added to the weirdness today was the following three things...

1) He kept crossing his eyes and looking right to left for some reason.
2) He kept taking his right hand, and using it to jab his left wrist in his mouth. He then
serenaded the entire table with a magnificent symphony of fart noises.
3) At one point when I looked over to check on his progress he was steadily rocking back and
forth while looking right in my eyes and saying, "You're crazy man!" To which I replied,
"If I wasn't, I certainly am now."

Now, depending on whether you share my philosophy of it being better to laugh than cry will likely determine your displeasure or enjoyment of how this strange story concludes. It may help for you to take into account all of which I just shared to truly get a kick out of this, and I'll tell you now I am so disappointed that this medium does not allow me to adequately express this student's body language and facial expressions that took place when the following conversation occurred at my table.

Me (assigning another student at the table her assignment) - Are you pretty good with division?

Girl at the table - Yeah, I love it!

Me - Great! You need to complete problems 1-14, and they are all division.

Scab Boy (who I did not even think was listening says the following to no one in particular) - Division...I have no idea what division is. I'm in second grade, and I'm already in summer school!

I realize that I have a sick, rather dry, sense of humor but the inflection of his voice, the look on his face, timing of the statement, and his overall body language was one of the funniest things I have witnessed in quite some time.

Blog Q and A - What are the best things about teaching?

Why Do Teachers Teach? Finally My Thoughts...

As I posed the question 'why do teachers teach?' last week on this blog and facebook, I knew I'd receive a variety of responses and I certainly did. Humurous answers ranging from "because we're all irrational and slightly insane" to "cause you get a check and you enjoy the pain". While both responses are quite humorous, the scary part is that there is a bit of truth in each of the statements. I also had a lot more serious offerings including "I have the ability to make or break a child's spirit every singl". day. I can either instill in them a passion for learning or a distrust of teachers" to "I love to see the look on a student's face when they have been struggling to understand something, and then you see the light bulb go off when something finally clicks and you know they now get it". Both very thoughtful insights into the ever elusive answer to the always difficult question of just why do teachers teach.

The reason this question is so hard to answer is because there is not really a correct answer. Every person that chooses to make teaching their profession does so for their own reasons. Unfortunately , I feel all of us in the profession can rule out money as a reason for choosing to teach. So why do we sacrifice so much of ourselves as educators when we're clearly underpaid and in most regards under appreciated. The reason(s) that each of us choose to teach is often quite personal, and done for purposes so powerful that the hours of personal sacrifice, emotional turmoil, and low wages do not factor into our career choice.

For years now I have pondered my own answer to this question, and I'm still not sure I know all the reasons why I chose to teach. What I do know is this, and though this will sound incredibly hokey, I think the profession actually chose me. As early as when I was in middle school I can recall thinking how cool it would be to be a teacher. I have always been very fascinated by the power that teachers have to change lives. Additionally, I chose the teaching profession as a way to help me right the wrongs of my youth by helping my students not to make the same mistakes I did. Validation is another reason I teach...validation for my existence on this planet. Why spend the short time we have on this earth doing anything other than helping others?

More reasons coming soon...

Blog Q and A - Why do Teachers Teach?

Please feel free to leave your ideas about this topic, and I will share my thoughts and feelings in the coming days. Until we meet again...

Changes

For those of you that don't know I'm in the midst of currently pursuing a Master's degree in Middle Grades Education with a concentration in English, and I completed an assignment today for one of my classes that required me to read a book entitled Who Moved My Cheese? The book basically deals with change and how we choose to respond to those changes that so frequently occur in our lives. While the book was certainly a fascinating read, what I found more interesting is the coincidental timing of having to complete this assignment with all the recent changes in both my personal and professional life. One of the many lessons I took away from the book is the fact that changes are inevitable in our lives, and that instead of instinctually assuming that all change is synonymous with bad it stressed the importance of visualizing and embracing all the good that can come with change.

On a personal note the recent, and unexpected passing, of my grandfather last week was definitely a change that I was not prepared for, and it was quite difficult to find any good that could come from his death. However, something good did come from the unfortunate circumstances. I was able to reconnect and bond with my half sister during the 3 day trip to Georgia. Seventeen of those hours were spent with her and I passing the time talking on the way down and the way back. She is soon to be 20 years old and I have been absent from her life for the majority of it, due in large part to my being unable to let's say 'get along with my father'. I have carried around guilt for years, and I was finally able to explain myself and apologize to her for not being the brother I wanted to be. To my surprise and delight she accepted my apology and we ended up having a wonderful time. We had so much more in common than I would have ever thought possible.

Professionally, I will be faced with many changes in the coming school year and reading the book Who Moved My Cheese? has better equipped me to handle those impending changes. The first change for next year is that I'll be teaching 8th grade, instead of 7th, which I have taught for the past two years. I must admit that I have been anxious and excited about the changes associated with the move. The other two changes that I have not been so excited about is the departure of the principal that hired me, and the idea of having to adjust to the new principal and all the changes that will entail. Additionally, I will be teaching a new class as part of a county adopted literacy program called LANGUAGE! To say the least I was not looking forward to teaching this new program, but I am now ready to tackle the challenges that lay ahead. A question asked repeatedly by one of the main characters in the book is, "What would you do if you were not afraid?" It is this question that I will use to guide me next year as I'm faced with these new changes.

For Granddaddy

For many years now I've said that the only two normal people in my entire family were me and my grandfather. Sadly, we are now left with only one 'normal' person in the family because my grandfather passed away in his sleep this past Saturday. The reality of his passing still has not completely set in and I'm not sure when it will. What I do know is that it's going to hit me like a freight train once I finally accept the fact that I'll never see him again. Throughout so much of my life, either through poetry or prose, writing has been my therapy, so I could not think of anything better that I could do to ward off the impending pain I'll feel when his passing actually settles in for me. So faithful readers, though this post is mainly to serve as my therapy I do hope if you decide to read any further that you can relate to some of it as we've all had people pass on that we were close to. So allow me to tell you a bit about the man that was my grandfather...

I'll begin with a brief synopsis of his life,

He was born on June 11, 1919, and to keep you from doing the math he had just celebrated his 91st birthday a little over two weeks ago. He met my grandmother, who is survived by him, when he was in his mid twenties. He served 25 years in the Air Force, and spent the the large majority of his life living in Warner Robins, Georgia. My grandmother and him had 2 children, a boy and a girl. Throughout most of his life he was healthy, even right up until the night of his peaceful passing. Even at 91 he was still riding his stationary bike a couple of miles each day. If I were to narrow down the two real passions in his life it was that he was an incredibly vovarious reader and a Civil War enthusiast.

I'll now tell you about the man I knew and loved,

My grandfather, like all the Styron men I suppose, was incredibly complicated to really get to know and understand. Throughout my childhood, which was less than great, there were many occasions that my sister and I would have gone hungry and/or homeless had it not been for my grandfather's financial support. He never asked for a thank you, and to my knowledge never asked for any of the money to be returned. He lived in Greenville, NC during that part of my childhood, and some of my fondest memories of our times together were when I would cut his grass. He paid me $5 to cut the front and $6 to cut the back (cause as he said, "It's a little bigger, don't ya think"). I felt richer than Bill Gates when he forked over the $11. Every 2-3 weeks he would come pick me up and we would go get our haircut together, and I just thought this was the coolest thing.

He had a fantastically dry, but refined sense of humor. As both he and I got on in years some of my greatest life's joy came from making him laugh non-stop everytime we were able to visit. He was always so concerned about the well being of those around him, and with always wanting to make sure that everyone had what they needed. One of his most annoying habits each time I visited his house was him asking me literally every 15 minutes if I "had gotten enough to eat" or to tell me for the 20th time in 4 hours where all the food was in the house, and that I should feel free to help myself. Though this used to annoy the hell out me, there is not much I wouldn't give to hear him say those things one more time. As I prepare to drive down tomorrow for the funeral, I cannot help but think of the emptiness I will feel upon entering his house. Though my grandmother and the rest of the family will be there, it will simply be heartbreaking not to see him come walking up to give me a hug with that big grin on his face while he says, "Hah hah, there's my boy!".

When I was around 12 or 13 he started affectionately calling me 'puscle (pus-sel) gut'. A phrase I think he made up for me, because he would often take me to an old 'all you can eat' restaurant that is no longer in Greenville and I would seriously eat 8 to 11 plates of food. I'll always remember how much he enjoyed seeing his loved ones eat. I think this was due to his being so poor growing up, and it gave him so much pride to be able to provide so much to his family. I'm rambling at this point, so I'll just say that like most things in life it is the little details you recall about a person when they are no longer with us. Like how my grandfather always had to take off his glasses before he would have his picture taken, the sound of his laugh, the way he kind of dragged his feet when he walked with one foot pointed slightly in, the way he would turn down his hearing aids later in life so he wouldn't have to hear my grandmother yelling for him to do the dishes or take out the trash, or how he claimed to have never had a headache in his entire life. I will miss all that and so much more.

I don't want to end this by pretending that my grandfather was perfect, again most of the Styron men are not, but I do know that to me he was loving and caring. Did he make some mistakes along the way? Sure he did. He left my grandmother for several years, before finally returning to her and there was probably a part of his life when he drank too much. We all make mistakes in life, and one of the many lessons I learned from my grandfather is that it is never too late to gain redemption for yourself and forgiveness from others. The goodness of the man very much outweighed the mistakes he made in life, and I will forever miss and love him. He was my granddaddy.

The Good and The Bad

The saying children can be cruel sadly has more validity to it than I would have thought possible before becoming a teacher. This is especially true when it comes to middle school students that are continually in search of their own identities, as well as trying to keep their hormonal see-saw balanced. Often, the turbulence brought on by adolescence causes students to pick on others in order to make themselves feel better about their own insecurities. Some make a habit of picking on others they feel to be inferior to them for whatever reason, because they are so confused and lost feeling in their own lives. Others pick on students that have become regular targets of abuse as a way to fit in with the 'popular' group. As a teacher that has witnessed these types of behaviors on numerous occasions it puts me in an uncomfortable position of wanting to handle the issue personally versus how I have to deal with it professionally.

Personally, when I see students being bullied, or made fun of by others, what I instinctually want to do is torment the student in the same way they torment others. Quite honestly, there have been some occasions in which I was actually hoping that one of the 'bullies' would take a swing at me just so I could put them in a theraputic hold :) until help arrived. During the time the student spends locked in my theraputic hold :) the temptation to cause physical punishment to that student would be nearly overwhelming. I say all of this in jest of course, as I would never actually harm a student...seriously...I wouldn't...seriously...unless...

Anyway, professionally when I witness these types of teasing and bullying actions I first attempt to address the issue myself. If that fails I report the matter to the guidance counselor and/or administration. As a teacher, contacting parents about these matters can be tricky for a teacher, so I've found it's better handled from the administrative level. I guess that what I'm trying to say in a roundabout way is that even though our students often engage in behaviors we don't agree with, as professional educators at the middle school level it is imperative we always remember that our students are between the ages of 11 and 14 and that they are going to make mistakes.

For as much cruelty as students can create, I discovered this year that some of those same students are also capable of tremendous compassion and kindness. For the past four years I have coached the 21 and up age group in the track and field division of Special Olympics. This year, during the height of our training season in February and March, I decided to invite students willing to come help out with training. A bit to my surprise I had a decent amount of students that signed up to participate each Saturday. I chose some wonderfully behaved students I knew would do well, and they did just that. I also chose some students with reputations for having behaviors issues, and much to my delight they too were absolutely wonderful with working with the Special Olympians. It was really quite amazing to witness students that were basically hell on wheels within the classroom be so kind and caring to the special athletes. A particular moving image that is embedded in my mind from that time is when one of those problematic students quietly volunteered to walk one of our older and blind special athletes across the gym to the water fountain. Though such a simple act, it's one of my most cherished memories.

It is important to remember that all students, like adults, have both good and bad qualities. An important aspect of teaching must also include doing what we can to accentuate the good and eliminate or reduce the bad.

The Incredible Case of Armpit Itch!!

So by now you know that I have to mix in some humor every couple of blog posts, and I have a real treat for you today. Unlike many teachers who anxiously await summertime so they can relax, vacation, and simply take it easy, I'm a bit different. Don't get me wrong, I love the much needed break as much as the next teacher, but I discovered after my first year of teaching that I would have to have something to do over the summer or I would quickly lose my mind. This summer I'm spending my days with grad school, prepping for next year as I'm moving from the 7th to the 8th grade, and I also work at a private tutoring company part time. It is at this very tutoring place that the incredible armpit incident took place.

So in walks this 8 year old student that I will call Clyde. He was there to be helped with reading, and the first 30 minutes he was at my table was absolutely wonderful. Given the fact that my luck with tutoring students under the age of 10 typically test my patience to its very limits, things were going really well. At the 31 minute mark,however, everything went completely haywire in Clyde's world. For reasons I'm still trying to figure out Clyde, without warning, leaned back in his chair, put his feet on the table spread as far apart as possible and began making really wierd motions. I'll spare you the details, but let's just say that they were motions that no 8 year boy should be making. By the way, there were 2 other students sitting with me at the same table that of course happen to be female.

Once that situation was resolved he settled back down briefly. A few minutes later out of the corner of my eye I saw a commotion. When I looked towards Clyde he was sitting there with the entire left side of his T- shirt up around his neck and was ferociously scratching his armpit like a contractor sanding drywall. It was then that the following conversation happened between myself and Clyde...

Me: Dude, what are you doing?

Clyde: Man my armpit itches real bad.

Me: Well I'm sorry about that, but you need to keep your shirt on in here.

Clyde: (after putting his shirt down) I think I got bit by a spider.

Me: Do you want to call someone?

Clyde: Nah

He then spent the next hour and 15 minutes scratching his armpit and making the strangest faces a human can make. Every once in awhile I would check again to see if he wanted to call home, but each time he said he was fine. To add to the insanity of this bizarre 2 hours of my life, he would not stop talking. During our final hour together I informed him we were going to play the quiet game at our table, and that the winner would win a prize. For 2 short and glorious minutes I had a quiet table and no wild armpit scratching. At 2 minutes and 1 second and for the remainder of our time together he asked me the following question every 30 seconds...

"Am I winning the quiet game?"

My reaction was a mix between wanting to see how far I could actually throw an 8 year old across the room, and wandering how quickly I could throw myself off the tallest building in town.

Improve Schools? Repeal NCLB!!

“Schools, like all organizational systems, are known for their tendencies to resist any change, particularly significant change, in the ways they operate.” (Parsons and Spradlin, 2010)

Unfortunately, the truths behind that statement coupled with the reluctance of teachers and administrators to become advocates for change I imagine our current school system will basically remain the same for the foreseeable future. In terms of change within our schools I’ve really only noticed two from the time I began as a student in the public school system to present day. The first of which is from my own time in elementary, middle, and high school and the once taboo practice of having students actively engaged in class discussion and working together seems to be a thing of the past. Not very long ago the teachers with the quietest rooms were thought to be the best at their profession. The other change I’ve noticed, though they are still far from sufficient, is with the textbooks used in class. I agree with the authors that indeed textbooks have come a long way, but there is also a ways to go in terms of making the texts more relevant to and encompassing of our growing multicultural needs.

What I would like to see occur in our public schools and what will actually happen are regrettably two different things. I would like to see our public school systems in North Carolina refuse to acknowledge the No Child Left Behind laws and forfeit federal funding. Though this would spell disaster for many schools already severely underfunded, the lost money could be pulled together through private and even corporate donations at this point. Many will argue that public schools taking money from corporations, like for example Shell Oil Company, would create problems, because the company would be in a position to indoctrinate students. While there is probably some truth to that, I think it would still better serve our students than the education crippling No Child Left Behind law that has pinned down public schools and educator’s creativity by basically saying to America’s youth, “You do things the federal government way, or we take away all your funding.” In essence our government is telling our students attending already underfunded schools that they better learn, or we’re (the federal government) going to cut off what little funding you have which will leave you in an even worse situation. How does this law benefit anyone? For me it is like cutting off a man’s arm, throwing him in the ocean, and telling him he better kill a hungry great white shark all while not drowning. If the man fails to kill the shark within a certain timeframe his other arm is cut off, thus putting him in an even worse predicament. Is this analogy really so far fetched when you actually breakdown the demands of the No Child Left Behind law? I don’t think so. Rather than helping American public schools, it is destroying student’s confidence with high stakes testing, and causing the nation’s best educators to leave the profession.

Summer Vacation or Summer Detoxification

The next time I run across someone with a stupid grin on their stupid face who says to me, "Well...you'll never be rich teaching, but how about the perks of having your afternoons free, weekends off, and 2 months of vacation every summer?", I will likely beat them across the head and neck with the nearest, heaviest object around me. As for having afternoons free...I have yet to encounter a teacher worth their salt that is able to leave early everyday. There are always meetings to attend, plans to make, students to tutor, parents to talk some sense into, and the list goes on. In regards to those weekends off, a smart teacher will try their best to get all their planning and grading done while at school,which occurs mostly after school, because our 'planning' periods (hahahahaha!) are almost never used for actual planning because we always have Mt. Everest size stacks of menial, and largely, useless paperwork to complete, or we have to attend often pointless meetings. Therefore, our 'weekends off' are frequently spent trying to catch up on grading and planning that non teachers believe we have so much time to do.

It seems that people that do not teach think it must be wonderful to have 2 months off every year during the summer, and to be honest it's awesome! Why may you ask is it so awesome?

Non-teachers will say things like...I can't imagine being able to sit home and relax all summer, travel, spend time at the beach, not having any deadlines to worry about,...etc. To these blissfully ignorant souls not in the teaching profession I would like to say two things. 1) Remind me that if we ever meet I owe you 4 slaps across your face, and perhaps a throat punch for good measure and 2) What you refer to as summer vacation, teachers refer to as our summer detoxification. Summer break is a time for us to decompress and let go of all our built up stress acculumated in the process of dealing with unruly students, non-sympathethic parents, low pay, long hours, and a state government that appears to be working against us rather than for us. It is also a time for us to heal physically and mentally from the variety of sicknesses collected throughout the school year ranging from the common cold we caught from little Johnny to the mental instability so many of our students left us with, because they seem to don't understand the English language as we had to drive ourselves to the brink of insanity repeating the same things over and over, repeating the same things over and over, repeating the same things over and over, repeating the same things over and over....whoa! Sorry about that. I just got caught up in a horrific flashback.

With all that said non-teachers, the next time you talk to a teacher instead of being condescending about us having our summer off how about thank us for a job well done and for letting you live to see another day!!

Schools and 'Multiculturalism'

Our schools are going to have a tough time instilling true multicultural curriculums and teaching practices for several reasons which include societal restrictions, No Child Left Behind and standardized testing, lack of adequate funding, and too many cultural differences in teaching staffs and styles of teaching. What I mean by societal restrictions is the fact that schools cannot and will not change until society has become more multicultural tolerant. Laws such as No child Left Behind and high stakes testing have basically taken the teaching out of teaching. Teaching has instead become about ‘the test’, instead of helping students to find their interest and passions and allowing them the opportunity to explore those paths. The lack of funding for public schools is beyond ridiculous. Education should be at the top of the list in terms of funding, but it is most often overlooked. Each year teachers in public schools must do more and more with less and less. With each of these things working against public schools becoming more diversity friendly, it appears it will be a long time before anything of significance occurs in terms of a truer sense of multicultural acceptance. I think that the best we can hope for at this point is that individual teachers make the choice within their classrooms to better facilitate multicultural learning environments. The change needed will not likely come from the federal level and work its way down, instead the change must begin within the classroom and work its way up.

Why Help One and Hurt Many?

I am in complete and total agreement that all students need and deserve the same educational opportunities regardless of any disability or marginalized status. However, I disagree on the setting in which they should be educated. I will explain. As the only male teacher on my seventh grade team I am always given the homeroom/language arts class that mostly consists of students diagnosed with some form of learning disability (LD); be it EC, SED, OHI, or any other recognized disability. Is it because I have some elite power to teach these students that are placed in my room year after year? No, in fact I have only taken one special education class. Is it because I am a master at implementing modifications and lessons to reach all learners? No, though I like to think I’m decent after years of practice. So, what is the real reason? The answer is simple. While certainly not the case everywhere I hope, at the school I teach at I would estimate that 75% of the identified LD students are BEHAVIOR ISSUES.

The ‘LD’ students make up over half of my language arts class, and each comes back to me later in the day once again for social studies. The question for me is quite simply whether or not I am qualified to offer these students the same educational opportunities I believe they need and deserve? For some students with minor LD’s I feel I am capable, but for many I think I am doing that child a disservice. Additionally, as Florence points out in her book Multiculturalism 101, “some students cover up inadequacies by acting out…” (Florence, p.22, 2010) This raises my main point in having it mandated that all children, despite their learning disability, be included in the ‘regular education’ classroom. The distractions caused by these students choosing to act out, coupled with the multitude of modifications needed, completely monopolize the teacher’s time to the point that the students with no labeled disability are being cheated out of their education.

The fact is that we are all different. It seems to me that our educational system would be better off if we would recognize and accept those differences. If a student needs to be in a special education class all day with a teacher trained specifically for that purpose, why are we not allowing that to happen? If it is because we don’t want the student’s feelings hurt I just find that ridiculous. The education the student received from an educator trained to deal with their disability is going to be far greater than he or she would receive in a ‘regular education’ class setting. The unfairness of having that student(s) in the ‘regular education’ classroom also robs the other students from their education.

The current system from most angles is unfair to all students with disabilities. Were I a student with a disability, depending on the severity of it, I’m not even sure I would want to be in the ‘regular education’ class setting. The old saying that ‘children can be cruel’ is an understatement, particularly within the middle school in which so many students find comfort in their own changing adolescence by picking on others weaknesses. Students with disabilities recognize they are different, the other students know they have differences, and unfortunately I see students everyday made fun of because of those differences. Again, the distractions caused by the teasing in and out of the class setting distract all learners, disability or not. Why are students with disabilities being made to have their likely already low self esteem further destroyed? Particularly when it seems their educational needs could be better served by highly trained professionals along side other students that share similar learning disabilities. It has gotten to a point where I can’t decide if we are mainstreaming students with disabilities for societies benefit or theirs.

The rampant political correctness that oozes from our modern society says that it is necessary and right that all students are entitled to the same educational opportunities. As stated I completely agree with that line of thinking. The frustrating thing for educators is that the society and lawmakers who create the plethora of regulations and laws we are made to follow do not seem to be in our current educational reality. I think that if they were to spend any time within a classroom they would quickly realize that their want for complete equality for marginalized and disabled students has actually created a system that has become unfair and often harmful to the majority.

uhhhh....

Since I tend to want to laugh rather than cry, I hope you laugh and enjoy the following story rather than focusing on the sadness of it. This past Monday (Memorial Day) the students had to attend school until 11:44 to make up for a snow day earlier in the winter. Every student in the entire county, town, and school at which I teach knew that they were being released from school at 11:44...except for one student.

Beginning one minute after this student entered my homeroom class, he asked me at least 4 times, "Mr. Styron...do we get out of school today at 11:44?" To which I replied every time he asked, "Yes!"

Later in the day, my homeroom students came back to me before being dismissed for the day. Despite the fact that this student had asked me at least 4 times that morning about early dismissal, and despite the fact that I had the schedule written on the board literally 5 ft. in front of his face the student asked me the following question at 11:36...

"Mr. Styron...do we go to 7th period today?"

Please understand that he was completely serious, which is the sad part of this story. My only reaction was to stare at him for what seemed like 2 minutes, before I had to force myself to walk away for fear that I would pick up my computer monitor and pummel myself to death with it. Since the first day of school I've have been trying to figure out what the hell is wrong with this student, and/or what planet he is from as he seems to not be able to comprehend either things that fall under the realm of common sense or the English language.

For those wondering, this student has no known exceptionalities or identified learning disabilities.

Diversity in the Classroom

First off, I want to apologize to all my faithful readers for the long lapse between post. My only excuse is that my grad. school class is whipping my butt. Nevertheless, I offer you the following. Teachers are so often put in precarious positions on a daily basis. Most educators learn rather quickly that they will have to become masters at balancing the great diversity in each of our rooms with the demands of high stakes testing. It is often difficult to educate, truly educate, a minimum of 25 students in most cases that are all from varying races, socioeconomic backgrounds, religions, experiences, gender…etc, while at the same time making sure that the stars are properly aligned on that one day each year when the end of grade test day arrives. Teachers are no longer judged by how profoundly they impact a young person’s life or the life experiences the teacher exposed the students to, rather we are now seemingly judged as ‘quality’ educators based solely on the results of one test that each of our students take each year. It is demoralizing for both educators and students in my opinion.
In addition, the marginalized portions of our society are frequently left out, willingly or unwillingly, by our educational system as it currently stands in America. In my view teaching, good teaching, comes most often from educators that have lived through a multitude of experiences with those groups so frequently marginalized in our society. Not to toot my own horn, but I feel that by most accounts I provide my students from all backgrounds with the respect and education they need and deserve. My reasoning stems largely from my background, as I have certainly reaped the benefits of being one of the ‘privileged’ as I am a white male and it is easy for me to interact with that segment of society. However, when I came up through middle and high school my situation was not pleasant. My family, what there was of it, was extremely poor and I lived in what most would consider not nice places. I did not have nice clothes or nice things, but guess who readily accepted me despite that…those very same marginalized portions of society. As such, I feel like I am better able to reach the students that some my colleagues are either unwilling or unable to. There are certain behaviors that my poor African American students do that drive other teachers, mostly older white females, absolutely nuts. I tend to work with and around those behaviors, because I lived that lifestyle. In my humble opinion an educator can never teach a student whose life experiences they do not understand.

Two Broken Hands

My original intent for tonight's blog was going to be about the severe anxiety I've been wrecked with all day today thinking about how my student's are going to perform on the reading EOG tomorrow. I hope that I am wearing a thong all next week...over my pants of course! No one on planet earth wants to see what 1st crossed your minds when you read the last sentence. I promised all my students that if 90% of the class scored a 3 or 4 on their 1st attempt on the reading EOG that I would wear a pair of thongs all week. Anyway...I decided that instead of rambling about EOG's tonight I would try to lighten the mood for your sake and mine by sharing the story of grandpa's two broken hands.

Around the middle of last week in social studies class we were discussing how laws are more strictly enforced in other parts of the world like cutting off hands for stealing in parts of the Middle East, caning in Singapore...etc. Well, for whatever reason the discussion triggered a thought in one of my student's minds. He raised his hand and the following conversation transpired...

Me: Yes

Student: My grandpa broke both his hands last week.

Me: (after a 10 - 15 seconds of staring at him trying to figure out where this was going) That
sucks...how did he do that?

Student: He's a big guy, and he was falling so he put his hands out to protect himself and they
broke.

Me: Sorry to hear that.

At this point I returned my attention to the overhead and was a heartbeat from continuing with the class lecture when he blurts out the following.

Student: He can't wipe his butt Mr. Styron!

Of course the class broke into hysterics, and another student yelled out, "Well what does he do then?" With one of the saddest looks I've ever seen cross a student's face he replied...

My grandma has to do it.

To all my faithful followers here's hoping your days are better than that student's grandmother!

EOG = Confidence Breaker

If you're a regular reader of my blog you are certainly aware of my unbridled hatred for the EOG (end of grade) test mandated through the 'No Child Left Behind' law. If you're a new reader...please know that I HATE THE EOG'S!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Does the state of North Carolina have to have end of grade testing? The answer is no, but if the state were to not implement EOG testing then we would not get the much valued federal dollar.

For further evidence of the debilitating affects of EOG testing I present the following;

A mother of two of my students ( a brother and sister) came out this morning for a parent conference. The boy is in the correct grade, but the the sister should be in the 8th grade. (recall that I teach 7th grade) As we talked the mom explained to us that her daughter was the better student of the two, until the last time she took an EOG test. The mom stated that despite her daughter having been an A/B student her entire school career, she performed poorly on the EOG. As a result she was retained. It is very aggravating to me that despite the fact the student pulled down all A's and B's for the entire school year and has absolutely no discipline issues one test essentially threw out all the hard work she put in over the school year.

There has to be another way. What if... like many students she has terrible test anxiety, which is greater than normal for the EOG, because the students understand that it makes or breaks them for the school year? What if... like many of my students she has a horrible home life...lack of sleep, lack of food, lack of parental support...etc? The mom told us that ever since the last EOG disaster her daughter has completely given up on performing academically throughout the school year, because it was made painfully apparent to her that her hard work throughout the year is pointless.

It appears to me that the 'No Child Left Behind' law is having the opposite of it's intended effect, at least for this student, because she has certainly been put behind her classmates. Is there anything good about the EOG's? Not that I'm aware of, but I'd love to hear from my faithful followers if you know of anything.

Behaviors

Sorry for the long delay between posts...have been incredibly busy. The veteran teachers at my school have often told me that every year of teaching is different than the one before. Naturally, the students personalities, like and dislikes, and learning styles will vary year after year. In addition I have found that my teaching style changes each year as I constantly modify lesson plans to make them more effective.

The reason for bringing this up today is that by and far the biggest difference I've noticed between this year and last year is the way in which the students react to the consequences they are given for unwanted behaviors. For some reason it seems that no matter what is done to deter the unwanted behaviors the students do not seem to care. We can contact their parents, send them to ISS, refer them to administation, after school detention, lunch detention, silent lunch...etc. The problem is that despite all these measure the SAME students day after day and week after week are still doing the same exact things that got them in trouble in the first place. It is quite frustrating as a teacher to have to deal with the same discipline issues on a daily basis, but I suppose that is the nature of the beast.

The battle of wills between teacher and middle school student continues and I love it!

Genetics and Teaching

The following will amuse my loyal readers...at my expense of course. From what I hear balding skips a generation, and by all accounts I tend to believe it. My grandfather is mostly bald and has been for quite a while. My father, on the other hand, has a beautiful head full of hair so thick your hand will get stuck in it. Anyway, for the past several years I've been slowly losing my battle with genetics as my hair becomes thinner and thinner.

Today I was reminded of this by one of my lovely students in the middle of a brief lecture on the finer points of various reading comprehension skills. The student raised her hand mid lecture, and I naturally thought it was a question about the topic of discussion. Instead, the student said the following when called on, "Mr. Styron...your hair is really thinning."

I thanked her for the comment and continued on with class. You've got to love 7th graders!

To Temple Lee...Thank You.

When I sent out my last blog requesting ideas to write about, I got the usual requests to write on topics relating to inside jokes between old friends, some serious educational thoughts to discuss, and one that I never expected. The father of one of my dear friends that passed away in 1998 sent me a request to write about his son and my old friend, Temple Lee. For the Lee family, I hope this finds you well.

I met Temple in the latter part of my 10th grade school year. We remained great friends until his untimely death. As the years have passed I've come to understand what a wonderful and unique person that Temple was. He had a tremendous passion for music, specifically The Rolling Stones and The Doors. As I said when I spoke at his funeral he had the greatest running out of bounds behind the head hook shot I've ever seen on the basketball court. Temple loved to laugh and I loved to make him laugh, because his laugh was infectious.

All of Temp's friends got a kick out of his willingness to say anything to anyone. In the years since I oftened joked with others who knew Temple that it's a wonder we were never beaten up because of the things he would say to people. One incident in particular still remains with me like it was yesterday. Often, when we were in high school we would spend our nights playing basketball with college students at the old 'hill' on 14 th St. On one night when about 8 of us were playing and there were not many college students around a guy that at the time looked like a giant to us walks up in the middle of our game and says to none of us in particular, "Hey guys, can I play with yall?". I don't think that any of us really wanted him to play because we were already having such a good time, but I don't think any of us knew what to say to him. In an attempt to break the awkward silence the guy said, "Come on guys...please". To which Temple says standing in the giant guys face, "Dude, who begs!?" When it happened we all feared for Temple's life, as well as our own. Later, we laughed the night away about the incident.

I could go on and write a lot more about what was so wonderful about my old friend Temple, but instead I would like to take this opportunity to write him a thank you note.

Dear Temple,

When you passed so unexpectedly, I realized at an early age just how fragile this life is. I began reevaluating my entire life shortly after your funeral, and I began to make many changes in my life that would lead me to where I am now...a happy person. Temple, I owe you so much for the good that has happened in my life since your passing. I gained an understanding of how this life is so fleeting and that it makes so much more sense to live every moment like it's your last.

I would have never removed myself from a toxic relationship that was bringing me down. If I had not done that I would have never began dating and eventually marrying my awesome wife of 10 years now. I would have never gotten all the courage I needed to return to school to pursue my dreams of teaching. I would have never gotten the courage to try so many of the things I have since your passing. There are not many days that pass that I don't remember the good times we had together. When I found out your dad was selling the old house, I drove by just for old times sake and almost broke down looking at the driveway and basketball goal where so many epic, but always fun, basketball battles took place.

Temple...my life is where it is now mainly because of you.

I thank you and I miss you terribly.

Calling All Followers...All 12 Followers...

I'm having a bit of writer's block at the moment, so I've decided to ask all of my 12 loyal followers to suggest writing topics. Any topic you suggest, I'll compose a wonderful blog about it. I look forward to hearing your topics!

Testing Doesn’t Mix with Spring Fever

This time last year I began suffering through a series of health issues mainly caused by the stress of how well or poorly my language arts students would do on the EOG (End of Grade) test. The stress typically kicks into gear upon return from spring break each April, and last until the EOG’s are finalized near the end of May. It is around this time I begin to constantly second guess what I’ve taught, and how well I’ve taught, throughout the school year. This year I have a particularly low achieving academic language arts class which has my nerves on edge even worse than last year.

All of this stress to students and teachers alike comes as a result of the No Child Left Behind law passed during W’s administration. I have yet to find a teacher that supports the aspects of that bill that have to do with the mandatory testing. This time of year also brings warmer weather and students anxious to get out of school for summer. In the teaching business we refer to the increase in student misbehaviors during this time of the year as ‘spring fever’. Unfortunately, the only cure for this fever is the last day of school. In addition, I have found that this is the time of year when bad things happen to good students. There are very few students that have the ability to resist the fever. Teachers are scrambling to provide students with any last minute testing preparations, while at the same time trying to keep their students under control long enough to be successful on the test.

Any suggestions from fellow educators, or anyone, for that matter on ways to relieve this end of year recipe for disaster, please let me know.

Essence of a Throat Punch

Understandably the use of corporal punishment has been done away with in the majority of public schools across our country, but in some rare instances I would love to see it made legal if only for one day out of each year. Hence...the following blog will describe the power of a well placed throat punch. There are several advantages to a throat punch landed with precision. The first being that unlike a strike to the face, a punch to the throat will always leave the victim incapacitated. Secondly, a direct punch to the throat has the immediate effect of stunning and often interrupting the victim's breathing patterns. Additionally, the well placed throat attack does the greatest thing of all which is to render the victim incapable of speaking for up to 20 minutes if done correctly.

In all seriousness there seems to have been a tremendous breakdown in discipline in the homes of so many of the students we are charged with teaching each day. Was I afraid of my teachers when I was in middle school? No. The thing I was afraid of was my teachers letting my father know that I had misbehaved. That was the worse, because I knew I would be dealt with instantly and severely. Today, that sense of parental fear and respect is absent in our students. It has gotten to the point with some students that I do not even call their parents anymore, because I've realized it is a complete waste of time.

There is nothing wrong with the education that public schools offer, and in most cases, there is nothing wrong with the teachers teaching. The problem I've noticed the most since I began teaching is the fact that our student's parents want us as teachers to be their child's parents. The catch is that parents want teachers to educate and be a parent to their child, but seemingly want it done without the use of nearly any type of discipline.

Thanks for reading my rant...and I promise you I would never actually hit a student...I don't think I would anyway. :)

Teach Fatboy Teach!

Ask any teacher about their job and most will say that if they did not absolutely love it there is no way on earth they could do it as a career. I do love teaching. I feel like I'm doing what I'm supposed to do with my life by teaching as a career, but there is one huge downside I've begun to notice more as of late. The downside is my ever increasing waistline!!!!



When I began teaching full time 3 years ago I weighed221 lbs. As of this morning, and I can't believe I'm publishing this, I weighed 264 lbs. Oh.My. Goodness!!!! While weight gain is commonplace amongst teachers, for me to have gained 43 lbs. in roughly 3 years IS NOT GOOD. Why is gaining weight so common for those in the teaching profession? Honestly I don't know the overarching answer for all teachers, but speaking from personal experience I just simply haven't had time to eat properly. Lack of time, utter exhaustion, and recently grad. school has frequently equaled fast food, sweets, and sodas. Though I maintained my 4 day a week workout schedule over the past 3 years, my diet has gone from good to bad to horrendous. If not for my workout routine chances are likely that I would have had to have been airlifted out of my house by now.



The time has come for this fatboy to get himself back to my teaching starting weight. To begin my journey I'm going to ....aw hell I don't know, but if anyone has any serious suggestions please let me know.

Killing a Student

This blog is not about killing a student, but I knew the title would grab your attention. Hopefully you'll stick around long enough to read the rest. A good friend of mine commented today that he thinks my blog acts as therapy for me, and that he can't understand how I teach without killing someone. He was joking about the killing part of course...well I think he was anyway. Writing has always served as a form of therapy for me, and indeed part of my new blogging adventure does act as a rudimentary form of therapy. It also allows me to vent, share my opinions on current 'hot' topics in education, as well as share some stories ranging from the utterly ridiculous to the sadly sobering.

It was the latter part of his comment that really stood out in my mine, only because I've heard it so often from people over the years since I began teaching. When I decided to pursue my dream of teaching I instinctively knew that teaching in the middle school is where I would be most successful. When I would tell people I was going back to school to become a teacher, their eyes would light up with joy. The next question I was always asked is "what grade?". To this I would reply middle grades, and their lit up eyes would instantly grow dim as they looked at me as if I was an alien. It was a look that said "What the hell is wrong with you!?".

While anyone who teaches realizes fairly quickly that it is something you must truly love, perhaps even have a higher calling to do, or you would rapidly fall into mindboggling stress induced hysterics I believe that in order to teach at the middle school level effectively one's passion for teaching must be even greater than those that teach at the elementary or high school level. The reason is simple. On top of all the demands put on teachers today at any grade from K-12, middle school teachers have to teach the 'whole child'. The middle school student, typically beginning in late 6th grade to about the middle/end of 8th grade goes through a tremendous amount of changes physically, socially, emotionally, phychologically, cognitively...etc. So to hear people frequently suggest they would 'kill' a student if they had to teach at the middle school level is quite understandable, because as teachers of middle school students we are forced to be all things to all students while at the same time making sure they are educated. To borrow a famous motto from the U.S. Marines middle school teachers are the few, the proud, and the chosen.