To those "above" me, I am inconsequential. To those "below" me, I am indispensable.
Only one of those groups actually matters. And it's not the group that thinks so very highly of themselves. Only one of those groups still has the potential to change our system, to improve education and our society by addressing real and complex issues in immeasurable ways. The other has already given up, and is looking only for numbers from a test or a survey that will help them justify their existence to their own bosses.
I'm uninterested in catering to the desires of those "above;" as uninterested in that as they are in creating real and effective change.
Sent from my iPhone
A blog about a working mom and a stay-at-home dad, starting an art business and raising our son in a wonderful extended family.
Friday, August 28, 2015
One of many problems
It is a travesty that the only way to advance your career as a teacher is to leave the classroom. No raises, no more responsibilities, no more prestige, unless you stop doing the thing that, if you're any good at it, needs doing the most. And so talented, hardworking people stay underpaid, and those who don't care so much about student interaction move on up, making double or triple what a classroom teacher does.
And even those who do care, who love the classroom and students and who get it - within 2 or 3 years away from daily teaching, they've forgotten. They've been seduced by fancy looking paperwork and rubrics that no one will ever see; by color copiers and real duty-free lunches, by politicians who don't understand education telling them what good work they're doing...so they take the money and create the forms and hold "Professional Development Opportunities" that just showcase how far gone they are from real teaching.
And those who could make change, who really see what the problems are and where change needs to happen, are too busy grading papers and emailing parents and opening milk cartons and adapting homework assignments for 10 different students who need individualized lesson plans in order to reach their potential to do anything about it, except for recognizing that if they leave the classroom for long, their soul will lose its spark and they'll no longer be a part of the solution, but rather a part of the problem.
And even those who do care, who love the classroom and students and who get it - within 2 or 3 years away from daily teaching, they've forgotten. They've been seduced by fancy looking paperwork and rubrics that no one will ever see; by color copiers and real duty-free lunches, by politicians who don't understand education telling them what good work they're doing...so they take the money and create the forms and hold "Professional Development Opportunities" that just showcase how far gone they are from real teaching.
And those who could make change, who really see what the problems are and where change needs to happen, are too busy grading papers and emailing parents and opening milk cartons and adapting homework assignments for 10 different students who need individualized lesson plans in order to reach their potential to do anything about it, except for recognizing that if they leave the classroom for long, their soul will lose its spark and they'll no longer be a part of the solution, but rather a part of the problem.
Friday, June 19, 2015
Wednesday, June 17, 2015
Interview!
Oh my god, I just had two interviews and a photoshoot. I'm going to have my picture in the paper, and a feature on a website. This is surreal!
I'm teaching a new class next year, and it's kind of groundbreaking. Which is super exciting and inspiring, and also means that lots of people care, and apparently that newspapers and magazines want to write about it!
It's strange to be the voice of this, because there are so many people who have worked so hard for so long to make this kind of thing happen (if you know me, you know what kind of thing, and what kind of class, I'm talking about), and in many ways, this just fell into my lap. And now people are asking me to speak about it!
I'm going to do my damnedest to do it justice, though. I have so many ideas, none of which have to do with standards or alignment or anything else that curricular specialists would say I should focus on - it's a revolutionary class, so why shouldn't the approach to education be a little revolutionary?
I'm going to bring in podcasts and speakers and teach activism and infuse art into every nook and cranny of this learning that I can. We'll read primary documents and create context and compare intense hypotheticals because they've got enough focus on literacy going on. Skills are great and all, but if you're not inspired to do anything with them, then what's the point?
I didn't talk about that in the interviews so much though. Instead, I talked about how amazing the community I teach in is. There aren't many places that would allow this kind of class, and even fewer that would be celebrating it. I feel so blessed. And the pressure's on! This has to be good.
#fingerscrossedemoji
I'm teaching a new class next year, and it's kind of groundbreaking. Which is super exciting and inspiring, and also means that lots of people care, and apparently that newspapers and magazines want to write about it!
It's strange to be the voice of this, because there are so many people who have worked so hard for so long to make this kind of thing happen (if you know me, you know what kind of thing, and what kind of class, I'm talking about), and in many ways, this just fell into my lap. And now people are asking me to speak about it!
I'm going to do my damnedest to do it justice, though. I have so many ideas, none of which have to do with standards or alignment or anything else that curricular specialists would say I should focus on - it's a revolutionary class, so why shouldn't the approach to education be a little revolutionary?
I'm going to bring in podcasts and speakers and teach activism and infuse art into every nook and cranny of this learning that I can. We'll read primary documents and create context and compare intense hypotheticals because they've got enough focus on literacy going on. Skills are great and all, but if you're not inspired to do anything with them, then what's the point?
I didn't talk about that in the interviews so much though. Instead, I talked about how amazing the community I teach in is. There aren't many places that would allow this kind of class, and even fewer that would be celebrating it. I feel so blessed. And the pressure's on! This has to be good.
#fingerscrossedemoji
Monday, May 18, 2015
Saturday, May 16, 2015
Speechless
A flashback to when I first found out I was pregnant with EtheFirst:
Still, I waited to actually do anything about it. Because once you pee on that stick, it's either real, and your suspicions are confirmed and then holy crap, you're pregnant, or...or you're not, and you've been hallucinating and fantasizing for a week. Also, you've now got this tennis ball thing to get checked out. And who wants to write "tennis ball uterus" as her chief complaint when checking in at the doctor's office? Both options terrified me. So I waited, and waited, until almost a week past when every other logical person would have thought back to 10th grade health class, and then gone to the damn Walgreens, bought a First Response, and done something useful with her pee for once.
The night came and went, and before the cobwebs cleared my head, I went for it. The minute in between peeing on that stick and watching first one, then two, blue lines appear, seemed to last at least an hour. I'm not sure I breathed. I definitely didn't move. And none of my selves said a thing. I just sat for a moment, pants around my ankles, staring into the mirror across from the toilet at this new version of me. First one tear, then two rolled silently down my cheek, dropping onto my thigh. And finally, when I breathed again, a big gulping gasp of air, my strangled voice, and every other part of me, shouted "thank you" to the universe, in the very quietest voice, so I could hold my secret for just a little bit longer.
I'd suspected for a few days that I was pregnant. There was this knot in my belly, like a flattened tennis ball. That was actually what I pictured when I first noticed it, as if somehow a tennis ball had just wandered its way into my uterus. In that way they do sometimes. Because clearly, through the noisy brain fog of "am I aren't I am I aren't I am I aren't I," I was thinking logically. And it wasn't so much that I could feel a new firmness when I pressed my fingertips into my stomach, though I could, a bit. It was that I was just conscious of it, the way you know your ankle is sprained before the pain even hits, or know that your boyfriend is going to break up with you the moment he walks in the door, before anyone has said a word.
At school, when I thought (hoped) none of the other teachers were looking, I'd do a little wiggle. Maybe it was just a fart. Or a rogue intestine! Maybe I'd get my period tomorrow. Maybe, four months from now, I'd still fit into my just-bought wedding dress. Or "maybe," (said the hypochondriac who lives all the way in the back of my brain) "...something is wrong. Maybe it's cancer." Could I still fit into my wedding dress then? "Probably you'll be even thinner after chemo," snarked my teenaged self, "but your hair will look like shit." She was the one who thought vomiting after meals was the way to make friends, the idiot. I flipped them both off in the bathroom mirror and indulged instead in the mama fantasies.
Sweet little cheeks, roly-poly thighs, eyes that cross from trying so hard to see you while giving eskimo kisses. A little bit him, a little bit me, a little bit of a soul coming back earthside for another attempt at nirvana. I craved a baby. My imaginary future self, the one who had life totally figured out, taunted me with her perfect motherhood. "This can't be yours, you know. You're broken, remember?" I knew she was lying. Probably lying. Probably (I crossed my fingers). The doctors only said it would be hard to get pregnant, not impossible. And it's not like that monthly indicator of my failed attempts at motherhood had arrived yet. That painful morning-time reach for a tampon that, for so much of my life had been a little red celebration meaning I knew how to use birth control properly, but suddenly (sometime in my late twenties) had become this near-literal punch to the gut. Failure and despair and all my lonely feelings, leaking out of me every month. So I closed my eyes, shut out that version of me who probably wears sweater sets and pearls for house cleaning, and sang sunshiney songs to the tennis ball baby in my belly.
Another day passed, the now-familiar "am I? I'm not. I think I am? I'm not" refrain running nonstop in my head, is a distracting backup singer to all my lectures on the Russian Revolution. "The Tsar thought of himself as Russia's little father" my teacher self told the kids, as I fantasized about the father my fiance would be to this imaginary baby.
Still, I waited to actually do anything about it. Because once you pee on that stick, it's either real, and your suspicions are confirmed and then holy crap, you're pregnant, or...or you're not, and you've been hallucinating and fantasizing for a week. Also, you've now got this tennis ball thing to get checked out. And who wants to write "tennis ball uterus" as her chief complaint when checking in at the doctor's office? Both options terrified me. So I waited, and waited, until almost a week past when every other logical person would have thought back to 10th grade health class, and then gone to the damn Walgreens, bought a First Response, and done something useful with her pee for once.
By Sunday night, the back-and-forth in my head was so loud I couldn't hear my toothbrush do its familiar "schhh schhh schhh" while I got ready for bed. The toothbrush just sang "pregnant, pregnant, pregnant," or alternately "crazy, crazy, crazy" until I said out loud "FINE."
"Tomorrow morning," my stern face told me in the mirror, "you're going to suck it up and face reality."
The night came and went, and before the cobwebs cleared my head, I went for it. The minute in between peeing on that stick and watching first one, then two, blue lines appear, seemed to last at least an hour. I'm not sure I breathed. I definitely didn't move. And none of my selves said a thing. I just sat for a moment, pants around my ankles, staring into the mirror across from the toilet at this new version of me. First one tear, then two rolled silently down my cheek, dropping onto my thigh. And finally, when I breathed again, a big gulping gasp of air, my strangled voice, and every other part of me, shouted "thank you" to the universe, in the very quietest voice, so I could hold my secret for just a little bit longer.
Saturday, May 9, 2015
Troubled Waters Art Show
Ross had an artist's reception for another show today! He had 5 pieces in the show, all some of the best works there.
The boys and I are so proud of him! They loved his name tag - "Ross Becht, Artist" and of course, the snacks!
All in all a great show. It closes May 30th.
Friday, May 8, 2015
Victory!
I've been advocating for something at my work for a very long time. For as long as I've worked there. Many people who just didn't want to change have been against what I wanted, but I did not give up. I researched, I argued, I modeled my own practices, and today, my boss told me that I'd changed his mind. Starting next year, the change I wanted will happen!
I can't be more specific about it yet, because not everyone who is involved knows about it yet, but if you know me and my work, especially where I began my teaching career, you might know what this is.
I'm so excited to see this change happen, and so glad I didn't give up.
I can't be more specific about it yet, because not everyone who is involved knows about it yet, but if you know me and my work, especially where I began my teaching career, you might know what this is.
I'm so excited to see this change happen, and so glad I didn't give up.
Wednesday, April 22, 2015
Nope
Nope. This kind of junk is part of what keeps us underpaid. My students are not a mercy project, they are people who need me to do my work well for their benefit, not in order to feel like a superior person. My craft is not built out of good intentions, and good intentions aren't where learning comes from. Teaching IS a job. It takes talent, work, study, and it should be paid like the profession it is. We don't say this about doctors or firefighters or politicians. And you know what? We pay them properly. I wish my district and my union would stop perpetuating this crummy myth that teaching is done out of goodness, rather than out of passion and talent and desire for career.
I hate this narrative about my profession. It's damaging to me, my students, education as a whole.
Saturday, April 18, 2015
Wednesday, April 15, 2015
Professors: Teachers or Researchers?
A bill in North Carolina is proposing to make professors at universities teach 4 classes per semester. And that's in addition to the research they must do (commonly referred to in academic circles as "publish or perish"). Understandably, those in academia are upset by this. Being required to do your job a certain way, and particularly in a way that it doesn't work, is infuriating. Being required to do so by people who are not in your industry: even more ridiculous.
But...why are we conflating these two things? Why do professors have to be full time teachers AND researchers? Where did we get the idea that subject matter experts are the best teachers? Clearly, some professors don't really get the work that goes into teaching:
You know what happens when true subject matter experts (the kind who just get it from the start) teach? They can't explain things. They understand so intrinsically that they are easily frustrated when students don't. And they can't see why their classes don't understand the steps to solve a problem, in large part because they don't see all the steps clearly themselves.
Education reformers, especially those who haven't spent time in the classroom, think it's all about making sure teachers know things and are infallible sources of information. But we're not that. We're problem solvers, explainers, writers, activity designers. Teaching is not easy. It's not simple. And it's definitely not something that should be done while also conducting huge research projects.
Why don't we separate the research from the teaching? I would love to be a college lecturer, but I would not like to be a researcher. And I definitely would not like to do both.
North Carolina education bill: It would require public university professors to teach eight courses per year.
But...why are we conflating these two things? Why do professors have to be full time teachers AND researchers? Where did we get the idea that subject matter experts are the best teachers? Clearly, some professors don't really get the work that goes into teaching:
Teaching college, especially if you’re good at it, isn’t particularly hard. But it does take time—and those 75 minutes in the classroom are the least of it. There are the office hours (which most students eschew for for professor as 24-hour email concierge); there’s the prep (anywhere from two to 10 hours for one class meeting); and then, of course, there are the hours upon hours—upon godforsaken hours—of grading. Four (or five!) courses, even with the shortcuts afforded by a teaching assistant here and there (which most people don’t get), are a full-time job in and of themselves.
You know what happens when true subject matter experts (the kind who just get it from the start) teach? They can't explain things. They understand so intrinsically that they are easily frustrated when students don't. And they can't see why their classes don't understand the steps to solve a problem, in large part because they don't see all the steps clearly themselves.
Education reformers, especially those who haven't spent time in the classroom, think it's all about making sure teachers know things and are infallible sources of information. But we're not that. We're problem solvers, explainers, writers, activity designers. Teaching is not easy. It's not simple. And it's definitely not something that should be done while also conducting huge research projects.
Why don't we separate the research from the teaching? I would love to be a college lecturer, but I would not like to be a researcher. And I definitely would not like to do both.
North Carolina education bill: It would require public university professors to teach eight courses per year.
Plotting My Revenge
When EtheSecond is 16 and in that "sleep all the time" stage, I'm going to play him recordings of himself from the past week's 2 AM freak outs. At full volume. 20 minutes after he falls asleep.
When EtheFirst is all grown up and taking care of my infirm self, I will tell him I want oatmeal for breakfast even though I really don't. Then, when he brings me oatmeal, I'll throw it on the floor and cry until he brings me a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Toasted, but not crunchy. After that I'll berate him for not being able to put my oatmeal back together.
And both times, I'll laugh my ass off, then shout "look what I'm doing" and show them how good I am at sitting on non-chairs. Because they should know!
When EtheFirst is all grown up and taking care of my infirm self, I will tell him I want oatmeal for breakfast even though I really don't. Then, when he brings me oatmeal, I'll throw it on the floor and cry until he brings me a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Toasted, but not crunchy. After that I'll berate him for not being able to put my oatmeal back together.
And both times, I'll laugh my ass off, then shout "look what I'm doing" and show them how good I am at sitting on non-chairs. Because they should know!
Monday, April 13, 2015
Ten obvious truths about educating kids that keep getting ignored - The Washington Post
Ten obvious truths about educating kids that keep getting ignored - The Washington Post
A reminder to myself - do what is good, not always what is expected.
I've been feeling in a rut about my teaching. Frustrated, overwhelmed, exhausted; all my creativity is being used on getting children at home to sleep and feel secure. I'm stuck in a pattern of Lecture, Reading, Quiz, Video, Repeat. Not my best work, but simple.
I'm about to embark with my sophomores on a month long research project, and I'm kind of dreading it. It's a wonderful project, full of deep learning, research, and self-directed investigation, but it's also messy, confusing, and consuming. And since I won't be teaching sophomores next year, it's hard to approach the project with the same sense of refinement and reflection that I have in the past.
But it's worth it. I'm happier with myself when I do good work, and that colors the rest of my world. So I'm hopeful that I will remember the information here:
-Memorization is pointless; students quickly forget
-Students learn better when they're interested in the topic
-If they know I care, they're more likely to do better.
I will not let myself be dragged down by the temptations of easy work, of low expectations from society, or the pressures from "reformers" to deliver reductive, linear education.
A reminder to myself - do what is good, not always what is expected.
I've been feeling in a rut about my teaching. Frustrated, overwhelmed, exhausted; all my creativity is being used on getting children at home to sleep and feel secure. I'm stuck in a pattern of Lecture, Reading, Quiz, Video, Repeat. Not my best work, but simple.
I'm about to embark with my sophomores on a month long research project, and I'm kind of dreading it. It's a wonderful project, full of deep learning, research, and self-directed investigation, but it's also messy, confusing, and consuming. And since I won't be teaching sophomores next year, it's hard to approach the project with the same sense of refinement and reflection that I have in the past.
But it's worth it. I'm happier with myself when I do good work, and that colors the rest of my world. So I'm hopeful that I will remember the information here:
-Memorization is pointless; students quickly forget
-Students learn better when they're interested in the topic
-If they know I care, they're more likely to do better.
I will not let myself be dragged down by the temptations of easy work, of low expectations from society, or the pressures from "reformers" to deliver reductive, linear education.
Thursday, March 26, 2015
From the Mouths of Babes
Two gems from Ethefirst today.
First thing in the morning: "Ma! My head is a gas giant, like Jupiter!"
Just before bed, as Ross is sciencesplaining how eyes work to him: "No, daddy, those aren't tear ducts! They're cry drips!"
I hope with all my heart that he stays this insightful, cause this stuff is too funny!
First thing in the morning: "Ma! My head is a gas giant, like Jupiter!"
Just before bed, as Ross is sciencesplaining how eyes work to him: "No, daddy, those aren't tear ducts! They're cry drips!"
I hope with all my heart that he stays this insightful, cause this stuff is too funny!
Saturday, February 14, 2015
Blasphemy
I'm starting to think that either God never intended for religion to exist, or he made a huge mistake when he started it.
So sad for Copenhagen today.
So sad for Copenhagen today.
Tuesday, February 10, 2015
Women's Work, at Work
This article is fascinating, and really rings true for me in a lot of ways.
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Women at Work: We're Doing All the 'Office Housework,' Too
// Jezebel
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Shared via my feedly reader
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Women at Work: We're Doing All the 'Office Housework,' Too
// Jezebel
Question: Who brings the cupcakes at your office, is more likely to toss the moldy leftovers from the communal fridge, or gets stuck organizing the office b-day shindig? Answer: Hey guys, I can make reservations at the bar for today's post-work drinks. It's no problem, really!
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Shared via my feedly reader
Sent from my iPhone
Sunday, January 18, 2015
Here Are the 36 Questions That Will Allegedly Make You Fall in Love [feedly]
I think I may try this with Ross. Not because we need to fall in love (got there!) but because we used to love asking each other questions from the book "If" when our relationship was long distance.
I think the "staring into each other's eyes" part might be a little odd, though. We'll see!
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Here Are the 36 Questions That Will Allegedly Make You Fall in Love
http://jezebel.com/here-are-the-36-questions-that-will-allegedly-make-you-1679062869
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Shared via my feedly reader
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Here Are the 36 Questions That Will Allegedly Make You Fall in Love
http://jezebel.com/here-are-the-36-questions-that-will-allegedly-make-you-1679062869
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Shared via my feedly reader
Sent from my iPhone
Saturday, January 17, 2015
Verbal Vomit
There's a fine line between not being ashamed of things that happened in my past and telling everybody about it. I have a really hard time not divulging everything about myself when I'm meeting someone who seems cool. It's like, logically I know the grocery store is not the place to talk about my recovery from my eating disorder. Or pregnancy details. Or my weird enjoyment of terrible politics. But…sometimes only my brain knows that. My mouth just goes. And how do you stop talking in the middle of that? Once verbal vomit gets going, you just have to get to a stopping point. My brain is going WrapItUpWrapItUpWrapItUp and my mouth is going BlahBlahBlahBlah and my body is going *cringe.*
And then I just stand there awkwardly, like, dammit. Hope that person is cool enough to not think I'm a total freak now.
So here's hoping I don't replay that in my head for the next week, thinking of all the smart cool things I could have said, rather than what I did say.
#fingerscrossedemoji
And then I just stand there awkwardly, like, dammit. Hope that person is cool enough to not think I'm a total freak now.
So here's hoping I don't replay that in my head for the next week, thinking of all the smart cool things I could have said, rather than what I did say.
#fingerscrossedemoji
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