Alumni

So I graduated.
That's the big monumental event that is dangled in front of your nose like a carrot (or my personal preference, a reese's pieces- who wants to chase after a vegetable??) as the prize for all your labors... beginning basically in grade school.

"Study hard so you can go to college!"
"Pass your AP tests for college credit!"
"Work on your class rank to get into a good college!"
"Write brilliant essays to earn scholarship money for college!"

Everything is prep for college, to help in college, to get through college, to complete college.
And I did it.

I'm DONE!

The graduation ceremony/process was a pretty accurate reflection of the sum of my overall college experience.
It started out with the best of intentions of course, and somewhere along the line things got a little messy, I became uncomfortable, somehow it worked out- sort of, and everything happened anyway and at the end everyone really just wanted to go home.

I was graduating with honors; cum laude with a 3.5000. That's called the 'bare minimum' and yes it still counts. So I got an honors stole, a white flat scarf-thingy with the university seal on the bottom. Nevermind that I had to pay $35 for it on top of the thousands I (or rather my loving parents) shelled out for those classes I got good grades in. That's beside the point. The point is in my rush to leave the house I forgot the stupid stole. So now my graduation ensemble is incomplete and heaven forbid someone mistake me for a poor soul who did NOT achieve the bare minimum of 3.5000 and could be classified as one walking the stage without honors. It simply would not do.

So I call my brother, who is coming with my parents a little after me. My brother is on the droll side, with a voice that epitomizes level-headed-ness which falls in sharp contrast to myself, the one with the voice that leaps up octanes as my panic irrationally increases to a state of mental frenzy.

The graduates are being kept like cattle in some vast (yet way too hot) room in the bowels of the Coliseum. We're standing in "lines" (how can 500 people stand in lines in a room shaped like a rectangle?!) according to our department waiting to walk out to our seats. And I'm clutching my phone waiting and waiting.
Finally my brother calls to say he's here. So holding my cap and doing what I like to think of as a light-brisk jog of urgency (in my heels) go out to meet him on the curb. I grab my stole, say some sort of thank you and 'jog' back into the Coliseum tunnel to don my garb.

At which point I discover my tassel is AWOL.

Ok. Now. *breathe* The tassel is important. I need it.

I bet that it fell off my hat when I 'jogged' out to meet my brother. In the most panicked ten seconds of the day, I RUN out the tunnel to see my tassel laying like a wounded animal on the sidewalk. I yell out "Mine!" to no one and grab it. I've got all my stuff. At last.

With the help of a kind friend in the cattle room, I assemble my graduate look. Big sigh of relief. We walk out into a Coliseum full of cheering people. "Yay you're finally done! We're so proud of you and glad we don't have to make payments on your tuition anymore!"

It takes me forever and an age to find my family sitting to the top right. I wave, they wave and then we all sit down for the next two hours to watch like 499 of my closest stranger friends graduate. It's weird to be a witness to such a pivotal moment in a person's life and yet you don't know them.

Then I walked the stage (YES) and didn't trip/fall/stumble (DOUBLE-YES)

After the ceremony all the graduates are marched out triumphantly and we go through a tunnel that winds up with us outside on of the Coliseum gates shivering and holding our green folders that contain a letter from the Registar stating that we'll get diplomas once it goes through that we've met all requirements. Nice.

There were difficulties locating my family after the ceremony because I neglected to have a cell phone with me and I'm not as good at sending out brain signals as I think. Finally after at least 20-30 cold minutes we find each other at which point everyone is a bit displeased. But all anger is muffled by the blanket of the fact that I AM A GRADUATE NOW YAY and no one gets to be too mad at least until tomorrow.

We went to dinner and that was lovely and then everyone was very tired and we went home. The end.
Now I'm an alumni.
I know that seems like an abrupt end to the little epic story going on here but honestly just telling the whole thing is tiring. But it was fun, and I'm glad it's over. Now that's a sentence that sums up college.

Long Term Sub

While student teaching, I encountered one of the holy grails of substituting opportunities: a pregnant colleague.
One of the teachers I had lunch period with happens to be expecting her first baby in February. When a teacher goes on maternity leave, she's gone for a solid six weeks, sometimes longer. That means they need a long-term substitute. I hear that and I think steady work for a month and a half.

Luckily I have become friends with this teacher, and it appears that a coveted long-term sub position could be mine! This teacher is the Media teacher and her classes include yearbook, media tech and speech. While my degree is in history education, I'm fairly computer-savvy, participated in yearbook/media tech in high school... in short I don't feel super underqualified.

Still the task of creating the school's daily video announcements was a bit daunting sounding, so I came back up to school for two days of observation in the Media classroom. Honestly, what else am I going to be doing with my time?

The level of technology available to the class surprised me. The kids were clicking away on programs I had never even heard of. Luckily the kids are so fluent with the tech that they can basically run everything themselves. Which is lovely since all the tech runs on macs anyway and macs and I are quite possibly the epitome of mortal enemies and I refrain from interacting with them. (My iphone is the only exception... and my parent's computers. And my brother's. Okay maybe Macs are creeping into my life.)

Aside from the tech classes, the speech classes I think are fun. I've never had a problem with public speaking and basically speech class is about teaching kids how to communicate in front of others. Part of that process is practicing, aka giving speeches.

On my 2nd day of observation I got to see about 3 dozen speeches. The topic was "Persuade the Audience to Believe..." and they could talk about whatever they wanted, following a format of course.
I got to see speeches on such topics as "Why Ghosts Are Real" and "The Cowboys are the Best Football Team Ever." Needless to say, I was entertained, especially when the kids pulled out their mandatory visual aides. The Cowboys presenter put up a photo of all the Cowboy's Super Bowl rings and then just stood there with his arms wide and said "No other explanation needed." A moment passed and then the Media teacher had to prompt him that in fact an explanation was needed, his whole speech can't be a picture and one sentence. I was amused, definitely more so than in a typical social studies class.

The long term sub job doesn't start till around February if the baby stays on schedule. I'm going to go ahead and start looking forward to it :)

Miss Martin Says Good-Bye

I didn't expect my last day to be as sweet as it was. Literally, I got a lot of sweets. My students are straight-up bakers.
Truly, it was a very loving day where I realized how deep of connections I had built up with my mentor teacher and my students.

My lovely mentor teacher sent me off in grand super-organized style that was the prefect mix of sentimental and preparatory items for my future classroom.

I have all the things a teacher could need...
- my own set of color-coded buckets
- juicy highlighters that won't a) blend through b) fade out halfway through a line
- magnets
- page protectors (those are expensive!)
- notepads
- sweet card and ornament from a fabulous mentor
- and of course chocolates to keep a weary teacher's spirits up during the home stretch of the busy day
All in all super thoughtful and make me feel loved.

My students went above and beyond anything I could have thought up. By the end of the day I had about 60 cupcakes, a cake (complete with an inch of icing) and multiple little trinkets of affection.

I was touched by any gesture, from an item, to a hug, a note. You work with these kids 8 hours a day, 5 days a week, week after week and then suddenly at the end you realize that they got connected to you too.

*Jacklyn brought me one of her own stuffed animals that she wanted me to have. Sometimes with everything these kids go through, and how crazy they act... I forget that they are mostly barely 12 years old. They show their love to you in anyway they can :) I was just lucky to be on the receiving end all day long.

My sweet *Lilda and the cake she made me :)This got demolished in the teacher's lounge in about two lunch periods. Lilda: the teachers thank you for that sugar boost.

In my 2nd period class I have about 2/3rds of the 7th grade girl's volleyball team. They are an interesting mix of females and most of the time they try and pretend like they are way too cool for Texas History (like anyone can be haha). But when it came time to say good-bye, they all suddenly melted down and I was bombarded with a half dozen hugs/tackles.

The first class I ever took over was 5th period, so those kids will always have a special little compartment in my heart for better or worse. They were the hardest to part with.

This is about as good a group picture as I could get them to take, haha- they act like complete hams all the time but as soon as you turn a camera on them and ask them to smile they freeze up and do a blank stare.
I wanted my 5th period to know all the great things I see in them, so I wrote them each a note.

I just wanted to tell them each the awesome qualities they have and how I will remember them.

The nicest most touching gestures were the notes the kids wrote me. Sadly, my name was misspelled on a lot of them, but it's the thought that counts.
*Petra and I and the big card she made me. "D" wanted a picture of us, but she didn't want the other kids to see so we snuck out into the hall.

This note was from a shy sweet girl in my 5th period who made me promise to wait till she left before I read it.
*Ronnie handed me this on her way out of 1st period. She told me it was a snowflake, so I believe her. It was one of the most creative cards I got... even if it did take me a few seconds to figure it out.

My favorite part of this card (from one of my favorites) is that she misspelled my name... but asked on the actual card "Did I spell your name wrong?" Luckily I am a pretty horrible speller myself and I don't care at all haha

This card was from one of my more boisterous "active-participators" (teacher speak for 'kids who never stop talking') tables who didn't realize I was leaving until that day and made me a card while they were supposed to be doing Independent Practice. But oh well haha it's a nice gesture!

There were many other cards and little presents but I don't have the will to post them all up here. I'm going to keep these tokens somewhere safe so when rough days come up (and I know they will) I can pull out a card or a stuffed animal and remember that the struggles I went through for students past were worth every extra hour and every headache.

*I don't use anyone's real name in any blog, so don't go stalking them haha

Some Results

It’s been an interesting week.

I received my certification exam scores. With Social Studies Content and Pedagogy and Professionalism, I passed. The ESL certification was another issue.

I knew I didn’t do spectacularly on the ESL test. I’ve had some quite awful ESL instructors at my college, so my grasp of the material was a little shaky. But my results for the exam were No Pass- 238 was my score. 2 points short of the required 240 to Pass.

Also known as: Failing by ONE QUESTION

A single question! I don’t even know what to think about that. Mostly I just have bitter thoughts right now.

So far I’ve applied for my General Certification. The ESL cert is something I can add on later, when I retake the test.

There’s no mental break from the exams on the horizon yet, I have the most difficult one- the Generalist Highly Qualified Exam this coming Sunday. :/ Here’s hoping for good results.

Beyond tests, I’m entering my last week of student teaching. It makes me equal parts sad to leave something I’ve become comfortable with, and yet I’m really ready to go. The mental fatigue is getting to a fairly high uncomfortable level.

Yeah I’m good with leaving.

Portfolio

When you're doing student teaching, you have to complete something called a portfolio.

It's a summarization of all your work as a teacher from the year of student teaching- all the things you implemented with your students and the results.

I got my final review e-mail tonight. The results? Good. :) Very, very good

That's quite the load off my shoulders. Now... I just need confirmation I passed my certification exams!

Test Are Taken

3 of my 4 certification tests have been taken.

I took the Social Studies 4-8 content one, ESL and PPR (Pedagogy and Professional Responsibility). I honestly don't know how well I did. Here's hoping for passing of course. I should know the results in 7 business days.

My final cert is the Generalist 4-8 Highly Qualified exam (thanks Obama) on December 5th.

Let's Take Some Tests

I have three certification exams in the next two days. Tuesday for 8 hours and then Wednesday for 4.
Several of my friends have already taken these exams and they tell me there's not much to worry about. They didn't really study. They passed. I'll do fine.

Yeah. Okay.
That doesn't make me any less nervous.

Taking these exams is intense. No cell phones, purses or bags allowed in the testing area. It's on the computer, four hours long each. Graded as pass/fail.

*gulp*

The tests feel a little outside of my control. They make my stomach tie up in knots of nervous yucky feelings. If I don't pass these certs the first time, then my certification from the state gets pushed way back because I don't get another chance to retake the tests before the holidays. The holidays are a black hole if you need anything administrative done.

I'll check back after Wednesday if I made it through alive. Fingers crossed... prayers said. (Not in that order)

Teach You to Think

My mentor teacher and I are trying out a new teaching strategy. We’ve gotten a bit tired of talking to kids in class and the conversation going nowhere as we try to discern what the student wants/needs.

Most of our existing strategies are based on a book called “Love and Logic.” We went back to the book for inspiration and found the concept of teaching people to “ask the right questions.” It’s something we’re trying out with the kids- much to their annoyance.

An example of this:
Jasmine needed to call her mom to ask to stay after school for tutorials. Jasmine came to my class during passing period and called her mom. While she was on the phone- the tardy bell rang. Jasmine hangs up the phone and asks me:
“Miss Martin, I need to go to Mrs. Costa’s. May I have a pass to Mrs. Costa’s class?”
“Yes,” I reply.
I fill out a pass for her and she takes it. As she looks out the door it dawns on Jasmine that Mrs. Costa’s room is directly across the hall from mine, a mere few footsteps away.

“Why didn’t you just say you’d walk me to Mrs. Costa’s?” Jasmine asks sullenly, (she didn’t like having to wait while I wrote out a pass).
My reply: “You didn’t ask me to walk you to Mrs. Costa. You asked me for a pass. Ask the right questions.”
She got visibly annoyed for a moment, and then she realized she did indeed ask me for a pass and nothing else.

Another aspect of this approach always befuddles the students but gives my mentor teacher and myself internal smiles.
The student comes up to us with some problem:
“Miss! I don’t got my homework.”
We then let a few seconds of silence pass before replying:
“Ok. What do you want me to do?”
The usual response to this question is a blank slack-mouthed stare. The students have gotten so used to adults doing the problem solving for them. I want to teach them to think of solutions on their own. I probably ask “What do you want me to do?” about 30 times a day. But it all has a purpose. In real life you can’t just stutter out your problems and have someone swoop in and fix everything. Ask the right questions!
“Miss, I don’t have my homework. Can I have another paper?”
“Yes. Thank you for asking.”

It’s fascinating to me how much brain power it takes for the students to comprehend that I the teacher am not going to tell them what to do or offer answers voluntarily. Ask me for my opinion, “Miss, what should I do?” and I’ll help you. But don’t stand there being mentally lazy waiting for me to spoon-feed things to you.

We can’t expect the kids to act like adults if we don’t teach them how to think like adults.

What's Another Word for "Bittersweet"?

I did some of my last 'college student-y' things today.
It was odd.

I went to the bookstore and bought my cap and gown. Then I paid $30 for an honor stole, since I'm graduating cum laude. I feel like after the thousands and thousands of dollars and 3 1/2 years of my life... can't you just give me the stole? Whatever. I wanted it so I got it because I'm a bit of a peacock. More pretty feathers to show everyone? Mine!

After procuring my regalia (I like that word!) I went over to the COE Advising Office. This is a place where more often than not I've received less than ideal news.

"This class no longer applies for the requirement we told it would."
"Another science class has been added to your degree plan."
"Fridays are no longer off-days for Student Teaching."
"The number of required observation hours have been upped from 30 to 60- you have one week to make up the difference."

But today was rather anticlimactic for a final visit. I sat down and was presented with my long awaited finalized degree plan. (I filed for the thing two years ago). There on the front page was the most glorious highlighted portion... it positively glowed from some kind of finality that can't be brought on by an office supply tool.

ALL REQUIREMENTS SATISFIED

I had a mental "that's all folks!" moment. I'm done. All my requirements to get a college degree are satisfied. Stick a fork in me- I'm done.

Ok- there is definitely a difference between "done" and "ready." I'm not quite sure which category I'm living in and that fact in itself makes me feel like I haven't embraced "ready" yet. I graduate in exactly 1 month and 23 hours from now. So I have about 1 month, 22 hours and 59 minutes to get to "ready" because then I'm walking a stage. I'm going to imagine I'm crossing an invisible threshold on that stage- college student passing into full adult.

I won't pretend I didn't feel some relief walking out of the COE Advising office for the last time. That place didn't hold any great memories. I think what I'm going to have to mentally separate myself from is the campus, my favorite buildings and most of all the people. I won't be a college student anymore.
It's going to be okay. I've been slowly compartmentalizing my good-byes for awhile now. On December 18th it will all be really final and honestly I can say I will be happy and eager to go into a new phase of my life.

But that doesn't mean I won't love/miss being a college student any less.

Seminar?

I’m sitting down on the student side of the desk for this one, and frankly it is a little disconcerting. It’s interesting to be a teacher all day long and then come two evenings a month I gotta throw the whole system into reverse and become a student.

It’s not as if my singular class this semester (what a way to end college on a high) is particularly cerebral, it just has become a speed bump.
You know the speed bumps I’m referring too. They are that strange height where they’re too low to really cause you to hit the brakes, but so high that rolling over the thing makes a sharp jolt that could make you uncomfortably jostle your beverage you happen to be sipping.
That’s my methods class. It’s jostlingly annoying.

This time when we’re supposed to attend class, it’s not even class.

It’s a seminar.

Ok. Last week, I got an e-mail stating that instead of class, we were to report to Terrell Hall (near no student parking whatsoever just smack in the middle of asphalt deprived campus) to attend a ‘Teaching Skills’ Seminar.

I have problems with this.
1. I instantly don’t know what the word “seminar” means and it annoys me when I don’t know what a word means right away.
2. After skimming the vague description of said seminar, I realize I was required to attend this thing in my first semester of student teaching.
Which lends itself to a whole subsection of issues.
a) The College of Education thinks its student teachers won’t remember something they attended 8 months ago, which shows how intelligent they think we are.
b) The COE thinks their seminars take two doses to be effective, which shows the quality of their programs.
c) The COE forgot they’ve already hosted this speaker for the student teachers and booked the program again. Which show how on top of things they are.

No matter the reason, I have to go- the e-mail contains the big “M”: Mandatory. So I bitterly feed the parking meter and hike in my not-for-hiking-but-not-really-for-teaching-either-so-I’m-doubly-in-pain grey boots to Terrell.

Sure as a 7th grader as zits, it’s the same speaker from back in April. I pick up the same follow-along material I didn’t look at last time and sit by the door in case the intense déjà vu makes the room burst into flames, I’m near the exit.

This is a good example of the ‘student’ part of being a 2nd semester student teacher. The COE is trying to educate me, but really- it’s something I’ve seen before, wasn’t that riveting in the first place, and you have to sit in a hard plastic chair while it goes on for a couple hours till you can leave.

I did google “seminar” on my phone using my purse as shield. It wasn’t what I expected.

Sem.i.nar:
- a small group of advanced students in a college or graduate school engaged in original research or intensive study under the guidance of a professor who meets regularly with them to discuss their reports and findings.

I’m not sure if the COE knew what they were doing when they named this shindig, but I’m sure when they do it again next semester they can try a new name out.

Teach On

Today has been a true test of my sheer willpower to teach on.

It’s not that one huge straw has fallen on my metaphorical camel’s back; it’s just a big pile of little things.

And the pile has fallen on me.

Maybe things seem colored so darkly today because both I and the students desperately need a vacation. The monotony of Monday – Friday can’t be underestimated. Everyone’s candles are being burnt from both ends and karate-chopped in the middle.

But we tell the students: “You don’t want to learn, fine. Just put your head down and don’t disturb others.” Our district calls it ‘opting out’ and students are not forced to work if they don’t want too.
I have plenty of students who don’t want to do their work. But they don’t want to opt out either. They want to talk.

Talking is what 7th graders do best. They whisper in rapid hisses to each other when my back is turned, holler comments at the powerpoints, gab about sports and fashion during group discussions, or subtly scream across the room at each other about nothing at all.

Achieving and then maintaining quiet is the Holy Grail of teaching. Forget ‘A’ test scores and literary masterpieces; give us 15 minutes of quiet for instruction. It’s an unattainable dream, a bitter unfeasible fantasy.
That’s what is wearing me down. The noise. The constant noise of voices.

My 4th period is a general education class on the large size with 32 students. Currently my classroom is set up with 8 groups of 4 desks each scattered throughout the whole space. It is impossible to silence 32 mouths at once. Today I discovered what it was like to be at my wit’s end. I stood in front of that class and 2/3rds of them were talking- oblivious to me standing there waiting to teach. The other 1/3rd is staring at me with pleading eyes and their heads leaning on their arms, hands over their ears.

So I taught softly. I spoke in a tone that would fit in at a quiet dinner party. I went through the whole lesson with maybe the front row being able to hear me. The rest of the class went about their merry business. Maybe that was wrong of me; I just couldn’t face down another 50 minute stretch of yelling every word.

I’m sitting in my conference period with a pounding headache and a troubled heart. My students need to be taught and they basically refuse to let me teach them. How do I combat such attitudes? They have been acting this way since the middle of last week.

I hope their behavior is only a reflection of the upcoming Thanksgiving break and whatever internal wiring in the student’s minds that has fried can be repaired by time away from school.

Did You Just Sneeze in My Face?

The human body has an amazing ability to defend and heal itself via the wonders of the human immune system.
I think when God gave us this ability he had teachers in mind.

I hope this isn’t a revelation to anyone out there: 12 year olds are not the most hygienic, sanitary creatures. They’re more like cesspools, really.
The concept of ‘cover your mouth’ is foreign, sleeves and fingers are tissues. They hack and sneeze all over a paper and then shove it into your hands. My immune system and prayer are all I have to keep me alive.

I guess it’s the changing of the season into winter, or the cold rain, I don’t know why all the kids have suddenly become wheezing, coughing snot monsters- but they have. Every class period I send at least one student to the nurse to go home because they can’t even breathe through their noses and their temperature is so high they’re practically sizzling in their seat.

Why are these kids at school? If they’re sick at 10am in my class, they’re sick when they wake up in the morning. Parents- don’t bring them to school! They get here just long enough to touch everything with their germs and then go home, leaving their bacteria behind to jump on new hosts. The school becomes a breeding ground for every kind of everything that makes you feel sickly. And the people who get the full blast of it are the teachers.

We come into contact with everything. We basically live in this school. Every paper, door handle, book, computer keyboard, dry erase marker, desk or pencil- we touch. But the true danger comes from the student to teacher face-to-face time.
We get down on the kid’s level all the time, breathing the same little space of air, mixing their contagious breath with my innocent health system.

I don’t know about all students, but my particularly charming ones like to cough and sneeze. Into my face.
At close range.
Often.
When I get hit with a blast from a nose or a mouth (or both at once), I get the overwhelming urge to simultaneously vomit/douse my entire body in hospital sterilizing solution. But there’s no time for that, I have to simply wipe my face and finish instructing the sickly student.

I took extra vitamin C this morning, and I had a quite painful steroid booster shot two weeks ago. The sink + soap are my best friends and I try not to touch my face- ever. I hope this isn’t a losing battle, in which my inevitable loss is to get sick. I want to ride through the battlefield on my powerful white horse of an immune system and educate in the face of snot and coughs.
Or stay home under the covers and hide.

Why Lie?

I’ve noticed that my student’s factory default setting is set to “LIE. LIE ALWAYS.” And that little red switch is placed somewhere awkward that I can’t reach, like you can’t get to that button no matter which way you bend a paper clip.

They’re not even good liars. We are working on an assignment, I stroll (as much as I can stroll after at least 6+ hours in my way too cute heels from Target that are so not meant for teachers who stand 9 hours a day) over to a student and ask if they have completed number 3.

She looks me dead in the eye and replies:
“Yup. All done.”
This surprises me since her desk is currently obscured by some sort of colorful teen beat pop-bop whatever magazine that’s mostly glossy advertisements aka ‘articles’ over Disney channel stars and their too-white toothy grins. Her worksheet is nowhere in sight, clearly she isn’t scholarly laboring.

This lie is easy to check, maybe the student finished all her work ahead of time.

Right.

So I ask, “Can I see number 3?” She heaves the biggest most oh-so tragic sigh and sloooooowly pulls the assignment from her binder. It’s completely blank. Not even a name scrawled across the top.

I put my hand on her desk and stare at her overly make-upped face in what I hope is an authoritative manner.
“You haven’t done a single thing,” I say sternly. “Why lie?”
She shrugs.
“Dunno.”- is her eloquent reply.

I’m irritated, so I wisk away from her, her magazine in my hand as retribution. She makes a noise like a cat someone has squeezed too hard around the middle and the air blew out one end. As I file her teen zine in the recycling bin I can hear her thumping her stuff on her desk so everyone knows just how totally offended she is.
I just don’t understand her reasoning. Why would I not check her work? Why lie over something so obvious?

I had an encounter later with one of my more diminutive ‘gangsters.’ Everyone was supposed to working on their test review, a document that I personally handed to every student.

Me: Why aren’t you working on your test review?
LG(little gangsta): I don’t got one.
Me: You do so got one. I gave you one yesterday.
LG: Nah you didn’t Miss. (he gestures to his empty desktop) I don’t got one.
Me: I put it in your hands. Yesterday.
LG: Prove it!
(At this point, my feet hurt quite a lot. And I know I gave this sweaty child a test review.)
Me: I don’t have to ‘prove it,’ I gave you one. If you don’t do it, it doesn’t hurt me.
LG: Miss, you didn’t give me no test review!
Me: Let’s check your binder.
(To my extreme delight, I flipped open the front of his binder and stuffed there in the very front pocket: his test review.)
LG: Miss that wasn’t there.
Me: I think I just ‘proved it.’

I pulled out the review and set it on his desk and left him to begrudgingly begin “work” aka doodling a gang sign on the top corner. Why did he lie? Dear Little Gangster, you and I both know I gave you a test review.

I see this blatant lying all day. Every day. I don’t know where along the way telling simple truths became optional. Maybe it’s the adults; maybe we started getting too lazy to verify anything the kids said. We let the lies go answered… probably because it’s a lot of work to continually “prove it” to kids who don’t want to listen.

Literally a Mental Victory

There are several ways to deal with a migraine, at least in my fairly considerable experience. I got a migraine yesterday around 5pm on my commute home; it slammed into me like a mental car wreck collision of unholy pain and brain matter. It had to vacate my head’s premises so I started implementing ‘cures.’

Sleep- lots of it. Last night I passed out at the hour of 8 o’ clock with the thought that the more hours logged the better chance I had to vanquish this beast.

Sleep Fail.
I was roused at 1am by the intensified ache on the right side of my weary brain. I resorted to another resource.

Meds- I tip-toed downstairs (because if I wake up the 15 week old puppy I’d have bigger problems than a headache) and take two Tylenol. I return to my nest of blankets and hope for the best.

When my alarm buzzes at 5:30am, my first terrible awareness is the blasted migraine is still pulsing away. My right eye feels like it’s thudding like an overloaded amp. This calls for my last resort.

Caffeine- I don’t drink caffeine for two reasons. 1) It makes me hyper and nobody needs that. 2) I don’t want to build up any sort of tolerance because when I’m desperate for a headache cure- Pepsi is my salvation. When the light from the refrigerator feels like the brights of an oncoming semi at midnight, its all I can do to grab that beautiful blue can.

Pepsi burns my tongue and tastes awful, but I wash down three Aleve, a vitamin and an allergy pill immediately. Standing over the kitchen sink I chug the remaining ounces. I know I’m facing down a Friday with 130+ 7th graders and I need to not feel like a knife is residing halfway into my skull.

Bonus Resource:
Prayer- “Please God take the headache away” is my mantra over and over as I merge onto I35. I’m at a loss as to how many pleas I logged on my hour commute. But my Lord is a merciful one and as I put my mental mindset on the “teacher” setting and walk into school the beast has faded down to a manageable level.

It’s strange to walk into your classroom to start the 9 hour day feeling like you already fought a huge battle before the first kid ever slouches in. But it could be worse… I could’ve lost and still had the migraine.

Happy Friday!

Miss Martin & Me

Middle schoolers are volatile, like a Diet Coke just waiting for its Mento- the seemingly innocent candy catalyst that will cause them to erupt.

For the most part I’ve given up trying to understand what sets them off in these rapid downward spirals. I don’t think anyone would disagree with me when I state that 12 year olds are not the most reasonable level-headed demographic of humans. But every now and then- they surprise me.

5th period is my favorite class. Any teacher that says they don’t have a favorite class needs to run to the bathroom because their pants are on fire. 5th period is talkative, funny and smart. Sometimes they are equally annoying, rude and ignorant. But mostly it’s the first set of adjectives.

Today, the 5th period students discovered that my time with them was limited, as I’m leaving December 3rd to go graduate and be an adult and all that. Some of my more humor inclined boys came up with what they believed to be sensible scenarios to get me to stay.
Their plans included:
Lock Miss Martin in the classroom at night and bring her breakfast every morning.
Bribe her to stay with money they could get from “hustlin’”
Refuse to do any work if I left

I let the brainstorming go on for a few minutes because honestly it was really flattering and I wanted to string the ego trip out because I was having a bad hair day. Finally I reined them in to refocus on the quiz game we were playing. That went on fine for a bit, till they all simultaneously got quarters stuck in their metaphorical slots and the noise level in the room spiked up.

One of my particularly favorite students is *Dillion. He’s already taller than me, a fact he likes to bring up when I ask where his homework is, or tell him he can’t leave class to go to the bathroom. He has an impish grin that covers half his face and a thick Chicago accent (he lived there 10 of his 12 years). His accent is so thick that sometimes I pick him to read things aloud just to hear his voice. Dillion is a class clown and the definite ringleader of the other 20 kids in the class.

Anyway. Sometimes when I’m having difficultly capturing the students’ attention away from their personal conversations, Dillion likes to take it upon himself to end the commotion. Today was one of those instances.

As I stood at the front of the room calling for quiet (that’s ironic), Dillion rose to his feet and clapped his hands loudly.
“You guys!” he yelled.
A result of the magic power of a popular peer, the class shut up.

“Thank you, Dillion,” I said, genuinely grateful.
But he wasn’t done apparently.

“Miss Martin, I gots a comment!” he said.
I mentally sigh. Dillion often gets ‘comments,’ really his way of getting everyone to listen to him ramble out his opinion for 2-3 minutes. But he did just silence his classmates for me. The quiz game is boring. So I give in.
“Okay, Dillion. Let’s hear your comment.”

Dillion is still standing and now that he possesses the imaginary spotlight, he’s taking his time. He pauses to adjust his tall tee and dramatically clear his throat. What he says next, I was not expecting.

“You guys know Miss Martin is abandoning us on December 3rd. So you fools don’t go talkin’ when she’s tryin’ to teach.”
Now I’m really touched and he should’ve stopped there and I would have just remembered this as a nice heartfelt moment. However- he continued.

“It’s like the movie ‘Marley & Me.’ Everyone loved that crazy dog and then it died and everyone was all sad.”
Dillion wiped away a fake tear.
“Brace yo selves for that sad feelin’ on December 3rd.”

At this point the class is gone- lost in laughter and yelling out their own delightful comments. Dillion plopped down in his seat looking quite pleased at how quickly he triggered chaos. It took me almost a solid 5 minutes to obtain some form of quiet and continue the review. Thankfully no one else had a speech.

Then the bell rang and 5th period stampeded out and I was left in the bliss of conference period.

In conclusion, I can really only say I’m flattered. There are definitely worse things to be compared to than a Labrador. This is just an example that 7th graders’ spontaneity doesn’t always have to lean towards fist fights and breaking down in sobs in the hallway. Sometimes you get thrown a curveball of a really sentimental speech about how you’re loved like a boisterous family pet.

I’ll take it.

New Name

One of the surprising things I've had to get used to as a teacher is my new name.

For the last two decades or so, I've always been called some sort of variation of "Jennifer." I learned to respond to Jen, Jenny, Jennifer, Ninny- just about anything that sort of sounded like what is printed on my birth certificate. But as soon as I entered a classroom, I became identified a new way: Miss Martin.

Don't think that I am adverse to my last name. On the contrary, I'm fairly attached to it. It's simple, not so short that its a spittable single-syllable utterance, yet not an unwieldy mouthful of a dozen strung together consonants. It's easy to spell, and pairs nicely with my first name. Everyone knows how to pronounce it; I never have to cringe when the hostess at Chili's butchers my name to call me to my table. I think I'd be rather disappointed if I married someone and had to take on a less than ideal surname.

But your name is the core of your identity. An introduction- "who are you?" "I'm Jenny." And that's who I am. But not anymore. Now I not only have 'Jenny,' but I have another identity within me: Miss Martin. Now most of my introductions are with new students: "who are you?" "I'm Miss Martin."

The new identity doesn't just apply to the students, Miss Martin interacts with her teacher peers as well. We all refer to each other by our last names.
"I'm having lunch with Richardson."
"Did Lockwood send you the e-mail?"
"Martin has the paperwork."
It's like when we enter the double glass doors of the school we slip on this new skin of a teacher, complete with title. Maybe we call each other by our last names to establish a mental boundary. We don't know if we would all be friends outside of school; we don't have the privledge to use first names. We know each other by our teacher identities, but who we are in the outside world is withheld.

I spend upwards of 8 hours a day as Miss Martin. The challenge for me is not leaving Jenny behind when I'm at school, but shedding Miss Martin as I walk across the parking lot at (hopefully on a good day)- 4:00pm. Miss Martin talks in a loud authoritative voice that doesn't match up with casual friend converstations over drinks. She needs to learn to relax her shoulders and not walk quite so fast through the shopping mall. Jenny is a very slow walker- more of an ambler.

With time, I hope it becomes a smoother transition going between Jenny & Miss Martin. The new teacher half of myself takes some getting used too, but it's becoming more comfortable. I don't believe having two distinct sides to who I am causes a rift/spilt- I prefer to take the cliched angle of 'two is better than one.' I believe having two halves makes me a stronger whole.

A Hybrid

What is a teacher?

You're a deliverer of knowledge, role model, secret-keeper, friend, the bad cop, the good cop, the damn referee. It's all even weirder to manage when you're not a "real" teacher. That's what I am, a half teacher, I am a Student Teacher.

Student Teacher: a hybrid, battle-weary creature, part college student, part educational professional and not fully at home in either world, classroom or campus. They exist in limbo/training for a year before either morphing into a full teacher or reverting to a gelatinous unemployed state.

Sometimes at Lou's or over a hand of cards, or when I have my face buried in some type of soft furniture, someone will ask "what happened at school today?" And my brain plays my day back at x10 speed and I'm left with a few seconds to start articulating a response before my thinking pause lapses into the 'awkward silence zone' after which no answer said is a good one.

Its not that my day is particularly difficult or full of confidentiality, its just like for 8-9 hours a day I participate in a strange world with it's own rules: a middle school. I like that 11, 12, and 13 year olds are removed from other age groups to be educated. We didn't lump the pre-teens in with the elementary younglings, or the fearsome high schoolers. Middle schoolers aren't babies and they aren't young adults- they're literally in the middle (hence the creative moniker 'middle schoolers').

In case you've forgotten your own pre-teen years, I'll refresh your memory of the middle school experience in two words: Awkward. Angst. Student teaching is mostly training to become some sort of circus ringmaster controlling your classroom of hormonal lions and tigers.

Every day has its own little incidents that make the time go by. My 8th period class kicked off with the charming moment of one of my male students racking himself on purpose. The reason he moaned out as he rolled on our industrial carpeting clutching himself: "Jose dared me too." I asked him if he wanted to go to the nurse and he replied, "Nah Miss, I don't want my homies to see me." I think to myself that he doesn't seem to mind the 32 peers currently laughing their heads off at him in the classroom. So I sort of propped my little daredevil up in his chair and eventually his face got less red and he unclamped one hand from his crouch long enough to start taking notes.

So you see, how do I explain that when someone asks me about my day? "Oh, I had a kid punch himself in the nards because his friend said he wouldn't." ....I guess that's how I tell people! This type of behavior is not unusual for my 7th graders; in fact today was sadly not even the first time there's been a self-inflicted racking my class. I guess 12 year olds are creatures of habit. They make me laugh regardless.

I'm hoping this blog will be a fun way to document this really unique time in my life. I feel like my job definitely provides my with an abundance of stories that everyone can connect too, because honestly, we've all been 12 once. So if the awkward angst makes you laugh, cringe, shudder or I don't know- gag or just dry heave... at least you're on the journey with me.