tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-164875602011-11-27T15:43:45.864-08:00the modern tales of a teacher who wonders if she'll make it up the down staircase.Jill E. Thomasnoreply@blogger.comBlogger311100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16487560.post-47316774575159292562010-05-19T10:07:00.000-07:002010-06-13T10:37:42.456-07:00

He calls me his superhero. I feel like I've failed him. Why is there this disconnect?To Daniel, I might be one of the few teachers who has talked to him frankly about his learning gaps and said directly that we would work together to fill in those gaps. We followed a model presented to me last year through BAYCES' Impact 2012 initiative. In this model teachers select a group of students who fall

Jill E. Thomasnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16487560.post-69959654971689366642010-01-21T21:52:00.000-08:002010-01-21T22:01:37.136-08:00

I am like the failing student who knows that he must make up work if he wants to pass the class, who gets constant reminders from his teachers and supporters that even half is better than no credit, but still does nothing to improve his grade. This student sees passing as an insurmountable task, one he is so far behind in that there is no point in trying.Today, during a silly vocabulary game in

Jill E. Thomasnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16487560.post-15571147873869226902009-10-10T09:09:00.000-07:002009-10-10T09:28:44.126-07:00

In order to review literary devices with my students we read Sandra Cisneros' short story "Eleven." It's the protagonist Rachel's eleventh birthday, but her day doesn't go as planned when the teacher makes her put on an old red sweater that isn't hers. Cisneros captures the flexibility of age, how just when we believe we've arrived at a particular age we bounce back to years before. In the story

Jill E. Thomasnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16487560.post-86204724113864943132009-09-23T21:28:00.000-07:002009-09-23T21:31:39.093-07:00

Some of my colleagues speak about their digital story project. The students featured just happen to be my very first group of ninth graders as juniors (they've now graduated).

Jill E. Thomasnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16487560.post-31358674302737181702009-09-23T21:12:00.000-07:002009-09-23T21:27:58.767-07:00

Almost one month into the school year, and the papers have already stacked up, the steady clip of my teaching life eclipsing my personal life. Isn't about time for a few scenes from my teaching life?1. A woman from the feds came by my room the other day to have me sign some Title I paperwork. While she took me away from my students for a few moments, they proceeded to stay focused on the task of

Jill E. Thomasnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16487560.post-11686659696718480162009-08-12T15:59:00.000-07:002009-08-12T16:33:25.489-07:00

It was my former roommate who first told me about Bel Kaufman's "Up the Down Staircase." I was a student teacher at Cal who always came home with stories about the state of public education in California. My roommate gave me a copy of the book, and I noticed that it seemed not too much had changed in education since the book's publication in 1965. The protagonist, Sylvia Barrett, was a young

Jill E. Thomasnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16487560.post-37414346803508701332009-08-03T15:45:00.000-07:002009-08-12T15:59:17.939-07:00

It’s that time of year when the announcement of a Back To School Sale sends me running to change the radio or TV channel before I have to be reminded that summer is coming to a close. I don’t want to hear about the fall fashion or discounted school supplies; there are still four weeks until the new cohort of ninth graders begin high school and become the focus of my constant attention. I am a

Jill E. Thomasnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16487560.post-1159936601112733342006-10-03T21:34:00.000-07:002009-08-12T15:21:45.510-07:00

Most people can admit to not finishing at least one book they were assigned in high school. For me it was Mark Twain’s “Huckleberry Finn.” My own adventures keep me alert with eyes wide open, but action and adventure movies and books bore me for some reason. The other book I dared to skip was Nathanial Hawthorne’s “The Scarlet Letter.” I couldn’t stand the puritanical language. I found it hard to

Jill E. Thomasnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16487560.post-1158728884970354942006-09-19T22:06:00.000-07:002009-08-12T13:41:27.599-07:00

Already five weeks into the school year, I’m facing the last days of the first marking period with joy and some sense of accomplishment. When I think of last year now, I can hardly believe I survived it. I don’t think I could do it again. Knowing what I know now, would make it impossible for me to tolerate the behavior I saw in my class. Maybe it is that knowledge and resolve not to see it any

Jill E. Thomasnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16487560.post-1136434041704882292006-01-04T19:56:00.000-08:002009-08-12T14:13:07.022-07:00

A "poem" by Jerome Stern. This monologue aired March 17, 1990, on "All Things Considered," National Public Radio's daily news broadcast. Stern was a professor of English at Florida State University in Tallahasee.In the schools now, they want them to knowall about marijuana, crack, heroin, andamphetamines,Because then they won't be interested in mari-juana, crack, heroin, and amphetamines,But they

Jill E. Thomasnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16487560.post-1133050761988015362005-11-26T16:12:00.000-08:002009-08-12T15:23:23.620-07:00

To keep it short and straight to the point: the staff bathroom is infested with ants. Seat protectors do not protect you from the ants who lurk underneath the seat. Before grabbing a wad of toilet paper, you must shake the ants off of the paper and hope there aren't any dead squished ones in the middle or between the folds. They are crawling up the walls, over the tiles, into the toilet, and

Jill E. Thomasnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16487560.post-1131591720770137932005-11-09T18:35:00.000-08:002009-08-12T15:23:49.068-07:00

After school today, I attended a groundbreaking New Teacher Reception sponsored by the district. I call it groundbreaking because I've heard of such things as new teacher receptions in more affluent districts, but never in this one. My principal was pretty surprised by it, too. She offered to go with me as a sign of support, so I agreed. As I told her, "I'm too curious to pass it up." I found it

Jill E. Thomasnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16487560.post-1130460025798303282005-10-27T17:37:00.000-07:002009-08-12T14:13:23.676-07:00

In first grade Mrs. LohrSaid my purple teepeeWasn't realistic enough for a tent,That purple was a colorFor people who died,That my drawing wasn'tGood enoughTo hang with the others.I walked back to my seatCounting the swish swish swishesOf my baggy corduroy trousers.With a black crayonNightfall cameTo my purple tentIn the middleOf an afternoon.In second grade Mr. BartaSaid draw anything;He didn't

Jill E. Thomasnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16487560.post-1128569147911859172005-10-05T19:46:00.000-07:002009-08-12T14:15:35.956-07:00

Growing up, I had a temper. A bad one. I would yell and slam doors and then pout about yelling and screaming until I got my way. My parents did not believe my babysitters, my teachers, and the mothers of my friends that I was calm and amiable when I was away from home. Don't get me wrong, I wasn't a terror or badly behaved. But I am stubborn and I did believe that being loud would serve me. My

Jill E. Thomasnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16487560.post-1128396997465239042005-10-03T20:26:00.000-07:002009-08-12T14:21:59.118-07:00

The only way to survive the first year of teaching is to find a supportive network of other teachers. I'm here now at the home of three of those supportive teachers for dinner, a little respite before we all head to our respective rooms for another two to three hours of work before bed. As I was leaving work today, one of my students was in the hallway still at school because he'd been on the

Jill E. Thomasnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16487560.post-1128190086280481122005-10-01T10:41:00.000-07:002009-08-12T14:30:48.955-07:00

Not long ago I was worried that I would be failing half of the seniors in my poetry class. Last week I printed out missing assignment sheets for them and gave them two more days to get their work in. I debated doing it at all because I didn't want to give them the idea that I would always give them second and third chances, but the results are in and I'm glad I made the move I made.Last night I

Jill E. Thomasnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16487560.post-1128136933465503442005-09-30T19:58:00.000-07:002009-08-12T14:41:03.379-07:00

I have heard that some teachers cry when they receive their first paycheck. The monetary value of the work they've done does not compute and they weep. I may be off the mark, but when I received my paycheck today I wanted to do cartwheels through the staff room. For the last fifteen months I have been living on student loans which I've supplemented with occasional substitute jobs, proctoring SATs

Jill E. Thomasnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16487560.post-1128042087596410162005-09-29T17:18:00.000-07:002009-08-12T14:49:34.929-07:00

Yesterday I took a "day off." I have been feeling under the weather for a week now and decided that if I didn't stay home things would only get worse. But what a price to pay for staying home. I spent most of it working on final grades for the marking period and calling the homes of students who are about to find an F on their permanent record. I made so many phone calls, calls I never have the

Jill E. Thomasnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16487560.post-36501916562146236872005-09-28T14:49:00.000-07:002009-08-12T14:55:31.226-07:00

During today's kayaking outing, one of the boys was given his final strike and can no longer go out no the water with us. We were paddling through the Marina when a yacht tried to come in and dock. He had to get over to the side, but this one student paddled right out in front of the yacht and disregarded the instructor's demands. The truth is, I don't think this student knows how to paddle in

Jill E. Thomasnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16487560.post-1127783744502248342005-09-26T17:50:00.000-07:002009-08-12T15:01:03.227-07:00

At a recent staff meeting we discussed the problem of students not completing assignments. One staff member suggested that when a large percentage of students are not completing the assignment, then maybe it's time to look at your pedagogy as a teacher. Several teachers felt offended or threatened most likely because as engaged teachers we are constantly examining our pedagogy and revising based

Jill E. Thomasnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16487560.post-1127588687047525862005-09-24T11:14:00.000-07:002009-08-12T15:09:35.203-07:00

My morning freshmen English class is much more obedient, but less engaged. Now that I'm getting used to the energy of my afternoon class, I'm finding I prefer the talk to the silence even if I have a headache by the end. Yesterday something magical happened in the morning class. As we moved through the final vignettes of "The House on Mango Street," which traverses ambiguous scenes of rape and

Jill E. Thomasnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16487560.post-1127349355015522952005-09-21T17:16:00.000-07:002009-08-12T15:19:20.621-07:00

The lesson is this: never give your students material you haven't already read for yourself. Today, I was sharing a chapter from "The Poet's Companion" by Dorianne Laux and Kim Addonizio. The chapter was about writing from an illogical point of view, not worrying about sense. It touched on dreamscapes and the subconscious. I played out a lesson I've known for a long time only because I did not

Jill E. Thomasnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16487560.post-1127179960456998292005-09-19T17:56:00.000-07:002009-08-12T15:20:35.705-07:00

How many students said, "I don't know" today? I don't know.In the morning class there are about four students who regularly raise their hand to be called on, every time. There are about five more students who will respond if I call on them. The rest of the students, when I call on them say, "I don't know." At other points of the class there is a lot of calling out. The patterns of participation

Jill E. Thomasnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16487560.post-1126935691779487702005-09-16T22:29:00.000-07:002009-08-12T15:21:20.655-07:00

Today, I finally got my poetry class to sit in a circle, to look at each other, to share more openly. The assignment was for them to bring in a favorite poem of theirs. It could be from childhood, from a rap song, from a lullaby -- anything. In the past this has been the easiest assignment ever. Students can hide behind someone else's words. There's no analysis, just aesthetic pleasure. I asked

Jill E. Thomasnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16487560.post-1126747224458089152005-09-14T18:20:00.000-07:002009-08-12T15:24:40.460-07:00

This sun is shining through, literally and figuratively. I'm happy to be writing today from a place of delight and wonder at what went right. Today, I asked my students to write for ten minutes about the areas of their life where they felt the most free and the other areas of their life where the felt the most limited. I asked them to take into consideration the role of their gender, age, race,

Jill E. Thomasnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16487560.post-1126676969932684792005-09-13T22:21:00.000-07:002009-08-12T15:24:57.027-07:00

Here we go. An anecdote from Monday (was that yesterday?). I hung up on the wall the "Where I'm From" poems my freshman wrote in the second week of school. They wrote the poem and had to illustrate it in some way. One girl turned hers in to me with a red background and the phrase "Norte X4" across the top. When I was in high school, blue and red gangs separated into Bloods and Crips. In my

Jill E. Thomasnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16487560.post-1126573342937627532005-09-12T17:36:00.000-07:002009-08-10T16:53:22.207-07:00

What I've known since beginning this job is that it is the personal relationships with my students that make my job worthwhile. Of course, there's also an incredible amount of creative energy that goes into teaching, and that appeals to me too. What has been so hard about the last few weeks is that all of my creative energy has been used up and I've felt like no relationships have been developing

Jill E. Thomasnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16487560.post-1126327980613406272005-09-09T21:34:00.000-07:002009-08-12T15:25:40.688-07:00

It's Friday night. I'm finally home after tackling Happy Hour with some of my co-workers. It was meant to be relaxing but in effect it extended shop talk into the night and I now feel like I've been working for 15 hours straight. I'm exhausted, sore from leading the students in push ups at PE yesterday, sore from having my privacy invaded and my money stolen, and tired of it all. A hug at the end

Jill E. Thomasnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16487560.post-1126228646558505952005-09-08T18:03:00.000-07:002009-08-12T15:26:00.194-07:00

I wish I had some delicious tidbit to share or new analysis on the adolescent brain to share today, but I don't. I'm left with a bad taste from today because moments before leaving my classroom (again the last person besides the janitor to leave the building), I discovered that $18 had been stolen from my wallet. I never carry more than $20 in cash to a school site and prefer not to even take

Jill E. Thomasnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16487560.post-1126142102859612292005-09-07T18:14:00.000-07:002009-08-12T15:26:21.466-07:00

Last week with the help of the assistant principal, we introduced my students to the game of Trash Ball. If Trash Ball doesn't sound familiar to you it's because it's an urban school invention. At my school, we have limited facilities. There is no gym or playing field but we do have half a basketball court, proudly fundraised and built by the students last spring. We do not let our lack of

Jill E. Thomasnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16487560.post-1126935937365573622005-08-23T22:43:00.000-07:002005-09-16T22:45:37.366-07:00

It's history unraveling. I've just completed my first day of teaching, and I am e-x-h-a-u-s-t-e-d. From 8:20 this morning until 12:05 we were with the same twenty students without a break doing community building exercises, reviewing rules (including our unheard-of NO CELL PHONES ON CAMPUS policy), learning names, etc. It was hard to believe that by the time lunch rolled around I still had not

Jill E. Thomasnoreply@blogger.com0