That question occupies a corner of my mind more than I'm willing to admit. Most of the time, I'm a positive person, or at least, I try to be. While I do have an abundance of things to be positive about, it seems unrealistic to only write about the "happy" days of teaching. No one can be happy all the time, so I'm gonna be honest. Today was not a good day. My brain stopped functioning properly and then began attacking my confidence. Plus, I'm pretty sure my kids swallowed fire crackers before they came into my room, which of course sparked my struggle (pun intended). Seriously, everyone was bouncing off the walls. Through this, I am reminded of an all too familiar feeling.
One thing I've learned about life is that there is always someone better. There are (plenty of) better writers than me, better athletes, better coaches, better teachers, better disciplinarians, better Christians, better thinkers, better joke tellers, and a plethora of other "betters." When I was in high school, there was a better setter who played over me. In college, there were better setters and defenders who played over me. Therefore, during my junior years of high school and college, I spent most of those volleyball seasons on the bench. Of course, it was difficult not being on the court, watching more talented athletes take my coveted position, but I loved the game too much to quit. I wanted to keep working to see if hard work could be talent. Eventually, both senior years, I clawed my way to a consistent spot on the court. During that time, I remained positive on the outside, cheering for my team on the sidelines and celebrating when they did well, but I will never forget how defeated I felt sitting on the sidelines, wishing I were good enough, wishing I could help my team.
Today is one of those days when I feel that familiar defeat. I'm not making the cut. I'm still stuck on the side line. Nothing in particular happened, but I was once again reminded that there's always someone better, which makes me wonder, am I the best teacher for these kids? So much of my time is spent searching for ways to be effective and reevaluating myself. Although most days I love my job, teaching can be a little daunting. Sometimes you don't know if they "get it" or what sticks with them, if anything. There are so many variables that affect each lesson that you can't always account for. Yes, you need these days to appreciate the good and to recover stronger, blah, blah, blah. Bottom line: I want my kids to have a great teacher. They deserve it, but what do you do when you don't know if you can be that for them? How do I get back in the game?
I guess I'll keep searching, reading, writing, reflecting, teaching. I'll keep loving my students, and I'll celebrate the small victories. I'll keep working because I love the game. Eventually, I'll catch back up to the pack.
(Btw - I'm not looking for pity, nor am I complaining or fishing for compliments. Just true confessions of a teacher. Also, "today" means a couple of days ago when I wrote it.)
Saturday, December 6, 2014
Saturday, August 30, 2014
One down, 35 to go!
Whew! What an exhausting, emotional, encouraging first week of school! I've survived four 13 hour days, an almost emotional breakdown, volleyball and basketball try outs, new 7th graders, and I am more than ready for my three day weekend. However, at 1:34am on this Friday night (or technically Saturday morning), I can't seem to find the off switch to my brain. It just won't stop playing information on the backs of my eyelids. This is not normal for me. Normally, at 8pm I'm asleep on the couch on a Friday, and especially with the events of the week, you'd think I'd be exhausted. Of course, my brain is not normal, so here I am in the middle of the night, giving in to my outlet.
Instead of sleeping, I'll just brag on my students and how awesome I think they are after one week. This has been probably the best first week of my ever-so-lengthy teaching career of four completed years. I'm pretty blessed with a great group of littles this year. There are a few things about the week that I will choose to celebrate:
1. They spoke up about the kind of classroom they want to create. On the first day, I went through my mantra of classroom expectations and procedures, but before they left, I asked them what kind of classroom atmosphere they wanted to create. I was so impressed and proud of the responses that fell from their pencils upon the notecards they were given. I took what they said and posted all of them at the front of them room so that both of us are reminded of the kind of place we want to be a part of. I wish I would have taken a picture but I forgot. Some of the responses looked like this:
- I don't like to be left out. I don't want to feel invisible.
- I want to feel like I can create whatever I want and that it will matter.
- I think a writing class should function like a newspaper. Everyone writes their own stories and then puts them together.
- I will positively affect this class by encouraging others to like writing.
- I would like to be a part of a positive, peaceful learning environment.
- I want to be treated with respect.
I'm paraphrasing several of these, but you get the idea. There were several more really thoughtful ones, but I can't remember them now. I was just impressed with the thought that went into these powerful, little sentences. I hope they feel empowered. I want them to have a voice too.
2. I spent some time getting to know them. On day two of school, I decided I was already tired of hearing myself talk, so I let them do a little sharing. We moved our chairs into a circle and played the "Take what you need game" with toilet paper. For each square of toilet paper they took, they had to share a fact about themselves. This was a lot of fun and I learned so much about them! Yes, it took a while, especially with my larger classes, but to me, it was worth it. Afterwards, I explained that my goal for this game was to lay a foundation upon which we could build a community of writers. The more comfortable they are with each other, the more likely they are to share their writing, and isn't that the point? There is power in sharing among a community of writers, in affirming peers and receiving affirmations from peers, which is why I wanted to start nailing in the stakes of respect, community, and camaraderie. I just hope they buy into it with me!
3. I had them write me letters. This is something I do every year. I write them a letter introducing myself and require them to do the same. They use my letter as a model for their own. This helps me gauge where their writing skills and of course get to know them a little more. I haven't read all of them yet, but I'm excited to. These littles are uber creative!
4. I had them perform skits. Seventh graders know how school works. They know the expectations of a classroom, and hearing my voice drone on expressing proper procedures is like paddling the English Channel with only your hands. Eventually we'll get to the other side, but I might lose a couple along the way. Instead, I had them create skits that demonstrated our classroom procedures. These are called CHAMPS and are displayed on the walls. A.) They had to read the wall to know how to demonstrate them, B.) they practiced working together, using our procedures, and C.) I still taught my expectations without losing anyone to the lulling waves of my voice.
All in all, it was a great week. I'm so excited about the coming year, and I hope all my other teaching comrades could celebrate a stellar first week as well. Next week we start 6 word memoirs, which is probably one of my most favorite things we do all year. They are fun, and I love to see how creative they get with 6 words. My students have awesome brains, so I'm sure I'll be sharing more from them next week. Yay 7th grade!
Instead of sleeping, I'll just brag on my students and how awesome I think they are after one week. This has been probably the best first week of my ever-so-lengthy teaching career of four completed years. I'm pretty blessed with a great group of littles this year. There are a few things about the week that I will choose to celebrate:
1. They spoke up about the kind of classroom they want to create. On the first day, I went through my mantra of classroom expectations and procedures, but before they left, I asked them what kind of classroom atmosphere they wanted to create. I was so impressed and proud of the responses that fell from their pencils upon the notecards they were given. I took what they said and posted all of them at the front of them room so that both of us are reminded of the kind of place we want to be a part of. I wish I would have taken a picture but I forgot. Some of the responses looked like this:
- I don't like to be left out. I don't want to feel invisible.
- I want to feel like I can create whatever I want and that it will matter.
- I think a writing class should function like a newspaper. Everyone writes their own stories and then puts them together.
- I will positively affect this class by encouraging others to like writing.
- I would like to be a part of a positive, peaceful learning environment.
- I want to be treated with respect.
I'm paraphrasing several of these, but you get the idea. There were several more really thoughtful ones, but I can't remember them now. I was just impressed with the thought that went into these powerful, little sentences. I hope they feel empowered. I want them to have a voice too.
2. I spent some time getting to know them. On day two of school, I decided I was already tired of hearing myself talk, so I let them do a little sharing. We moved our chairs into a circle and played the "Take what you need game" with toilet paper. For each square of toilet paper they took, they had to share a fact about themselves. This was a lot of fun and I learned so much about them! Yes, it took a while, especially with my larger classes, but to me, it was worth it. Afterwards, I explained that my goal for this game was to lay a foundation upon which we could build a community of writers. The more comfortable they are with each other, the more likely they are to share their writing, and isn't that the point? There is power in sharing among a community of writers, in affirming peers and receiving affirmations from peers, which is why I wanted to start nailing in the stakes of respect, community, and camaraderie. I just hope they buy into it with me!
3. I had them write me letters. This is something I do every year. I write them a letter introducing myself and require them to do the same. They use my letter as a model for their own. This helps me gauge where their writing skills and of course get to know them a little more. I haven't read all of them yet, but I'm excited to. These littles are uber creative!
4. I had them perform skits. Seventh graders know how school works. They know the expectations of a classroom, and hearing my voice drone on expressing proper procedures is like paddling the English Channel with only your hands. Eventually we'll get to the other side, but I might lose a couple along the way. Instead, I had them create skits that demonstrated our classroom procedures. These are called CHAMPS and are displayed on the walls. A.) They had to read the wall to know how to demonstrate them, B.) they practiced working together, using our procedures, and C.) I still taught my expectations without losing anyone to the lulling waves of my voice.
All in all, it was a great week. I'm so excited about the coming year, and I hope all my other teaching comrades could celebrate a stellar first week as well. Next week we start 6 word memoirs, which is probably one of my most favorite things we do all year. They are fun, and I love to see how creative they get with 6 words. My students have awesome brains, so I'm sure I'll be sharing more from them next week. Yay 7th grade!
Thursday, August 14, 2014
And so it begins again.
It's that time again. The start of school is upon us, and honestly, I'm kind of ready for it because this is the time of year when I get really excited about being a teacher. I get a clean slate, a refresh button, a chance to start over. I read teachery books and teachery blogs all summer in hopes of revamping my classroom and gaining more teachery wisdom from those who do it better. I sift through endless grains of information, straining to find my gold. What I read churns up new ideas, so by the time school starts, I'm brimming with awesome. All summer I feel like I've been clicking my way up to the top of the roller coaster, gathering inspiration, preparing for the drop. I feel ready to implement all my new teachery ideas and rock my students' worlds, and I'm such an idealist, a dreamer that I think all of these will flow uninhibited, flawlessly into my classroom, like a gentle breeze of revolution. As I've learned from past experiences, though, after a couple weeks, I realize I'm not all that, and my classroom doesn't always resemble the well-oiled, pristine machine I'd visualized all summer. And I'm becoming OK with that.
It's always difficult to process the feeling of not measuring up, which creeps to the forefront of my mind often. There is always someone who does it better, which means I must be doing it wrong, right? My brain gets gray and hazy with self-doubt sometimes, and I'm a little too hard on myself. But I've been doing some soul-searching and reminiscing of past years in the classroom, and I've decided that I do some good things. It's unrealistic for me to assume that I can adapt a hundred new strategies from Pinterest and completely restructure my classroom around others' ideas. Where's the ownership in that? I'm firm believer in kids taking ownership of their learning, but I wasn't taking ownership of my teaching. I'm not saying I can't learn from people, but it was getting to the point where I was discrediting my own experiences, which is just not healthy. I've realized that I need trust myself too. There's no way I can possibly implement all the ideas that have crossed my eyes this summer: 1.) Everyone is different and runs their classroom accordingly. 2.) That's just too much multi-tasking, and I'm not that talented. 3.) The fun of teaching lies in the atmosphere I create.
I never want to get to a point where I feel like I know everything. That's a like a tree willing itself not to grow. I love learning and will continue to research ways to better myself, but learning to trust myself is an invaluable lesson too, one that I can't read on a teachery blog. So, this year, I think I'll try a couple of new things in class as well as continue to build upon what I do already: build relationships to reach kids where they are.
I've still got A LOT of work to do before the year starts (seriously, I won't sleep next week), but as I nail down specifics of how my classroom will work, I wait at the top of this coaster for the last couple of clicks. Then the only thing left will be to close my eyes, lift my hands, and drop.
It's always difficult to process the feeling of not measuring up, which creeps to the forefront of my mind often. There is always someone who does it better, which means I must be doing it wrong, right? My brain gets gray and hazy with self-doubt sometimes, and I'm a little too hard on myself. But I've been doing some soul-searching and reminiscing of past years in the classroom, and I've decided that I do some good things. It's unrealistic for me to assume that I can adapt a hundred new strategies from Pinterest and completely restructure my classroom around others' ideas. Where's the ownership in that? I'm firm believer in kids taking ownership of their learning, but I wasn't taking ownership of my teaching. I'm not saying I can't learn from people, but it was getting to the point where I was discrediting my own experiences, which is just not healthy. I've realized that I need trust myself too. There's no way I can possibly implement all the ideas that have crossed my eyes this summer: 1.) Everyone is different and runs their classroom accordingly. 2.) That's just too much multi-tasking, and I'm not that talented. 3.) The fun of teaching lies in the atmosphere I create.
I never want to get to a point where I feel like I know everything. That's a like a tree willing itself not to grow. I love learning and will continue to research ways to better myself, but learning to trust myself is an invaluable lesson too, one that I can't read on a teachery blog. So, this year, I think I'll try a couple of new things in class as well as continue to build upon what I do already: build relationships to reach kids where they are.
I've still got A LOT of work to do before the year starts (seriously, I won't sleep next week), but as I nail down specifics of how my classroom will work, I wait at the top of this coaster for the last couple of clicks. Then the only thing left will be to close my eyes, lift my hands, and drop.
Friday, June 6, 2014
The end of an era.
I may be the only teacher who cried on the last day of school. I didn't cry while kids were in my room. I didn't cry while I packed up my room. I kept myself busy with end-of-year tasks, so I didn't think about how much these kids meant to me until all was done. There were no more papers to shred or supplies to put away or file cabinets to organize. I was left staring at my empty room. As I stared at the lifeless desks, the movie roll of memories began to play and the tears began right on cue.
I've loved all of my kids from day one, but there is something about the finality of an empty classroom. Knowing I would never teach those kids again was too much too handle. Seeing the empty chairs and bare walls made me realize how much I will miss these guys. As I reminisced about the year, I just couldn't help thinking about how far these kids have come as individuals and as writers. I'm so honored and humbled that I got to pour a little of my life into them. There is no other feeling like watching a kid "get it" or watching a quiet kid finally come out of her shell and embrace who she is or watching a kid become a young adult right in front of your eyes. They've become a part of me, and they each have a piece of my heart. They will never know how much they've touched my life.
As I was standing at my classroom door ready to leave, staring at white walls and vacant seats, the tears came (again). I literally stood at my door with the lights off for at least 10 minutes, staring and sobbing. It was pretty ridiculous. But it felt like the end of an era. And I couldn't do it. I couldn't close off the year. I couldn't close off the connection I'd worked so hard to build with my kids. I couldn't handle it. My co-workers, confused, saw me standing there, eyes bubbling and consoled me as I cried and told them how I didn't want the year to end. I feel like a parent whose kid is graduating. Man, I'm doomed when I have kids. These kids don't even come home with me and I can't keep it together!
So, here's to you Class of 2019, you will do great things. You will always hold a special place in my heart. I look forward to hearing of your accomplishments. Thanks for blessing me with your presence this year. I am humbled, honored, and proud to know you.
They definitely saw my "true" colors and decided to bless me with such a lovely photograph...
Nevertheless, these kids light up my life.
Saturday, March 29, 2014
The Best Part
Ugh. STAAR testing is here. The bane of my teaching existence. I did not become a teacher simply to prepare kids for a standardized test, which measures on an unreasonable curve. It isn't fair to determine the skills of every student based on one test. If I wanted to build robots, I would have become a mad scientist. But this is just one negative, unavoidable aspect of the job I love. I became a teacher simply because I love and appreciate the fragility and goofiness of adolescents. I can still see myself at that age searching for where I fit in the world and I'm trying reach her.
There have been several days, more than I'm willing to admit, when I come home from school ready to look for a new job. I whine to Kyle about how I can't handle the disrespect, the entitlement, the attitudes and laziness of these crazy kids. "There is no way I will make it in this profession for another thirty years," I complain. While that may be true, I may not make it another thirty years, today, I will choose to focus on the positive aspects of my job. Starting with the fact that, most days, I love my job. I realize you have good years and bad years, as my elder colleagues have informed me. Last year, however, it was not uncommon for me to come home frustrated to the point of tears. I think we can safely call that a bad year, or at least a frustrating one. But, I digress. I'm going to capitalize on the fact that this is a good year.
To celebrate how much better this year is treating me, I've decided to make a list. A best parts list. So far, these are the best parts of my year, my job, and my awesome, intuitive, fragile little seventh graders.
1. My kids get excited about reading. Divergent is the new fad in YA lit. Several of my kids have already read it, and I see more books everyday sitting atop desks, decorated with bookmarks. This is always a conversation starter for me. How awesome is it that I can walk into my room and generate genuine conversation about what faction we'd be in and discuss other book favorites? It fuels my fire to see kids get excited about reading! I love being in a profession where I can share my love of literature and see kids reciprocate that passion. I do not take it for granted. Of course, not all of my students appreciate reading, but I revel in the small victories! Some of my favorite teaching memories hold pictures of students standing around my desk spouting their favorite parts of Divergent or The Fault in Our Stars. It's the most rewarding feeling to know that I played a small role in sparking a passion for reading/writing.
2. Watching my kids morph into a community of writers has to be one of the coolest parts of my job. This has not been easy road, and some of my classes have not made it to this point yet. It has not come without several lectures/lessons about respecting one another, but one day, I'm not sure how, it happened. One of my students was sharing something we had all been working on from class, and that's when I saw it. As she read what she had written, my eyes bounced to each face of her peers as their expressions transformed from judgment to awe. Jaws dropped, eyes softened, and hearts opened with respect. "Wow, I didn't know you could write like that." The comments began. It was like 20 little light bulbs clicked on as I witnessed their perceptions of one another change from band nerd or jock or popular to writer. Everyone was equal. As you know, middle schoolers are insistent upon labeling (people, styles, music - you name it, they've labeled it), and in one moment of raw honesty, all those labels dissipated. They were united. I tried to disappear behind my podium and soak it all in. I let them share for as long as I could, reveling the new atmosphere of acceptance. That day they emerged with a new identity, a new label: writers. That will ever be etched in my memory. Even yesterday, we did some creative writing but ran out of time to share in class, but this didn't stop my 8th period. I glanced up from my desk to see several gathered in the back of my room sharing what they wrote before being dismissed. Guys, my job is cool.
3. I love watching my kids wrestle with writing. As with any skill, writing comes easily for some but not all. Not everyone gets it. Not everyone is good at it. And that's OK. They're 7th graders, not published authors, but I feel so encouraged when they try something new in their writing. It makes my job worthwhile when I witness them improve on a daily basis. I have literally caught myself in the middle of class with a teethy smile, giddy that they reached for a thesaurus or that they used a simile or that they indented a paragraph! Like I said, it's the little victories on which I thrive.
4. My kids actually work together. It's so nice to have a group of kids who will do what they've been asked! It still shocks me sometimes when I ask them to work on something with a partner, and lo' and behold, they actually work! On a few occasions, of course, I'm not so lucky. It does take a bit of motivating sometimes. Contrary to what I hope, most are not dying to write and revise essays, but they do anyway. There is one instance that I've tabbed in my memory. In the process of our essay writing, it was revising day. They were peer editing and revising when I noted one particular partner choice, of which I approved. One of my struggling writers chose to work with one of the strongest writers in that class, and the things I heard/saw made me want to fist pump, jump for joy, and sing all at once. In fact, I probably did. I overheard genuine discussions of where detail should be added and parts that sounded confusing. Both learned from each other, and because of this partnership, BOTH essays were better than the previous ones they had written! Win!
5 My kids know me. One day in class we were talking about "showing vs. telling." In my power point I showed several examples of what "showing" looks like in writing, but I only wrote one example myself. The other two examples I used I found from other sources. (I know, I cheated. Whatever.) As I read, they immediately knew which one I had written. I've shared enough of what I've written with them that they could instantly recognize my writing style. "Mrs. Nielsen, that one has to be the one you wrote because it's the best and it's long." (Awe. They know I'm wordy and over the top! ;) ) I was just impressed they could tell a difference! One even told me that I should write a book. They're so cute and naive. Writing is easy when your audience is a room full of 12-13 year olds!
6. The absolute best part of my job is the relationships that I build with my students.
Sometimes those relationships start with sarcasm, which is why I love junior high kids. They get it. I once told a kid to leave my class because he did not like Christmas music. Obviously, I was kidding. Kind of. We laughed and moved on.
I know I've mentioned sharing reading experiences above, but that also plays a part in how I build relationships. When they're eyes light up because I'm interested in what they're reading or doing or that I have noticed them, how is that not a teaching win? When my 8th graders come back to see me, my heart is full. I love those kids! It's special to know that I paid enough attention to them as 7th graders that they'd want to come back to visit me.
As their writing teacher, I know about them all of which they choose to share with me. It's very humbling when a little person trusts you enough to share their secrets with you, hoping for nothing less than acceptance. I do not take my position of influence for granted. And, occasionally, when one of my dears leaves for the weekend, I'll get a heart-warming gem like this as he back pedals out the door: "Bye, Mrs. Nielsen. If you're lucky, I might even miss ya." How friggin cute is that? Icing on the cake. Then you get the darlings who are honest to a fault: "Mrs. Nielsen, you look tired. Like you sound tired, too. Are you okay?" Just precious. Gotta love 'em. Seriously, though, I love my kids. I love that they are goofy, honest, confident, insecure, curious, and dare I say, dauntless. If I had kids, I'd want mine to be friends with them.
These guys have reminded me why I became a teacher. They've brought joy back to my job when the paper work and the planning and the grading and the pressure and STAAR seem to suck the life right out of me. Ultimately, I'm there for them - not for STAAR or grades. They should be my focal point. That is not always easy as I have my fair share of challenges and insecurities. I'm just grateful that the group of kids I have are motivated enough to give me hope and goofy enough to make me laugh; they work hard enough to make me proud and are malleable enough to accept correction. I have to remind myself that my students are seventh graders, and as such, lose their brains every other day. They don't always make good choices, but that's the beauty of growing up. It's not always pretty. They're really just little people reaching for ways to connect with the world. I'm just reaching back.
There have been several days, more than I'm willing to admit, when I come home from school ready to look for a new job. I whine to Kyle about how I can't handle the disrespect, the entitlement, the attitudes and laziness of these crazy kids. "There is no way I will make it in this profession for another thirty years," I complain. While that may be true, I may not make it another thirty years, today, I will choose to focus on the positive aspects of my job. Starting with the fact that, most days, I love my job. I realize you have good years and bad years, as my elder colleagues have informed me. Last year, however, it was not uncommon for me to come home frustrated to the point of tears. I think we can safely call that a bad year, or at least a frustrating one. But, I digress. I'm going to capitalize on the fact that this is a good year.
To celebrate how much better this year is treating me, I've decided to make a list. A best parts list. So far, these are the best parts of my year, my job, and my awesome, intuitive, fragile little seventh graders.
1. My kids get excited about reading. Divergent is the new fad in YA lit. Several of my kids have already read it, and I see more books everyday sitting atop desks, decorated with bookmarks. This is always a conversation starter for me. How awesome is it that I can walk into my room and generate genuine conversation about what faction we'd be in and discuss other book favorites? It fuels my fire to see kids get excited about reading! I love being in a profession where I can share my love of literature and see kids reciprocate that passion. I do not take it for granted. Of course, not all of my students appreciate reading, but I revel in the small victories! Some of my favorite teaching memories hold pictures of students standing around my desk spouting their favorite parts of Divergent or The Fault in Our Stars. It's the most rewarding feeling to know that I played a small role in sparking a passion for reading/writing.
2. Watching my kids morph into a community of writers has to be one of the coolest parts of my job. This has not been easy road, and some of my classes have not made it to this point yet. It has not come without several lectures/lessons about respecting one another, but one day, I'm not sure how, it happened. One of my students was sharing something we had all been working on from class, and that's when I saw it. As she read what she had written, my eyes bounced to each face of her peers as their expressions transformed from judgment to awe. Jaws dropped, eyes softened, and hearts opened with respect. "Wow, I didn't know you could write like that." The comments began. It was like 20 little light bulbs clicked on as I witnessed their perceptions of one another change from band nerd or jock or popular to writer. Everyone was equal. As you know, middle schoolers are insistent upon labeling (people, styles, music - you name it, they've labeled it), and in one moment of raw honesty, all those labels dissipated. They were united. I tried to disappear behind my podium and soak it all in. I let them share for as long as I could, reveling the new atmosphere of acceptance. That day they emerged with a new identity, a new label: writers. That will ever be etched in my memory. Even yesterday, we did some creative writing but ran out of time to share in class, but this didn't stop my 8th period. I glanced up from my desk to see several gathered in the back of my room sharing what they wrote before being dismissed. Guys, my job is cool.
3. I love watching my kids wrestle with writing. As with any skill, writing comes easily for some but not all. Not everyone gets it. Not everyone is good at it. And that's OK. They're 7th graders, not published authors, but I feel so encouraged when they try something new in their writing. It makes my job worthwhile when I witness them improve on a daily basis. I have literally caught myself in the middle of class with a teethy smile, giddy that they reached for a thesaurus or that they used a simile or that they indented a paragraph! Like I said, it's the little victories on which I thrive.
4. My kids actually work together. It's so nice to have a group of kids who will do what they've been asked! It still shocks me sometimes when I ask them to work on something with a partner, and lo' and behold, they actually work! On a few occasions, of course, I'm not so lucky. It does take a bit of motivating sometimes. Contrary to what I hope, most are not dying to write and revise essays, but they do anyway. There is one instance that I've tabbed in my memory. In the process of our essay writing, it was revising day. They were peer editing and revising when I noted one particular partner choice, of which I approved. One of my struggling writers chose to work with one of the strongest writers in that class, and the things I heard/saw made me want to fist pump, jump for joy, and sing all at once. In fact, I probably did. I overheard genuine discussions of where detail should be added and parts that sounded confusing. Both learned from each other, and because of this partnership, BOTH essays were better than the previous ones they had written! Win!
5 My kids know me. One day in class we were talking about "showing vs. telling." In my power point I showed several examples of what "showing" looks like in writing, but I only wrote one example myself. The other two examples I used I found from other sources. (I know, I cheated. Whatever.) As I read, they immediately knew which one I had written. I've shared enough of what I've written with them that they could instantly recognize my writing style. "Mrs. Nielsen, that one has to be the one you wrote because it's the best and it's long." (Awe. They know I'm wordy and over the top! ;) ) I was just impressed they could tell a difference! One even told me that I should write a book. They're so cute and naive. Writing is easy when your audience is a room full of 12-13 year olds!
6. The absolute best part of my job is the relationships that I build with my students.
Sometimes those relationships start with sarcasm, which is why I love junior high kids. They get it. I once told a kid to leave my class because he did not like Christmas music. Obviously, I was kidding. Kind of. We laughed and moved on.
I know I've mentioned sharing reading experiences above, but that also plays a part in how I build relationships. When they're eyes light up because I'm interested in what they're reading or doing or that I have noticed them, how is that not a teaching win? When my 8th graders come back to see me, my heart is full. I love those kids! It's special to know that I paid enough attention to them as 7th graders that they'd want to come back to visit me.
As their writing teacher, I know about them all of which they choose to share with me. It's very humbling when a little person trusts you enough to share their secrets with you, hoping for nothing less than acceptance. I do not take my position of influence for granted. And, occasionally, when one of my dears leaves for the weekend, I'll get a heart-warming gem like this as he back pedals out the door: "Bye, Mrs. Nielsen. If you're lucky, I might even miss ya." How friggin cute is that? Icing on the cake. Then you get the darlings who are honest to a fault: "Mrs. Nielsen, you look tired. Like you sound tired, too. Are you okay?" Just precious. Gotta love 'em. Seriously, though, I love my kids. I love that they are goofy, honest, confident, insecure, curious, and dare I say, dauntless. If I had kids, I'd want mine to be friends with them.
These guys have reminded me why I became a teacher. They've brought joy back to my job when the paper work and the planning and the grading and the pressure and STAAR seem to suck the life right out of me. Ultimately, I'm there for them - not for STAAR or grades. They should be my focal point. That is not always easy as I have my fair share of challenges and insecurities. I'm just grateful that the group of kids I have are motivated enough to give me hope and goofy enough to make me laugh; they work hard enough to make me proud and are malleable enough to accept correction. I have to remind myself that my students are seventh graders, and as such, lose their brains every other day. They don't always make good choices, but that's the beauty of growing up. It's not always pretty. They're really just little people reaching for ways to connect with the world. I'm just reaching back.
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