Bonding

"You must bond with my child if you want to teach her anything" Regie Routman quoted a speaker she had heard in her book, Reading Essentials. Before a child can learn anything from someone, that someone has to be established as a person to admire, a person who respects the child and who cares about the child. So often in classrooms of the 21st century, teachers are so caught up in meeting the standards that they forget about the very important human element that is part of educating another being.

This rings especially true for me because in my job at the MSEEC, I rarely got to know the children. Schools came on field trips and I taught kids for three to five hours, and there was really no relationship. In the summers, while conducting summer camps, I was able to bond with some of the campers, but especially those that came back to camp week after week. That was one of the reasons I wanted to go into school-year teaching with the same group(s) of kids--I wanted to know them better so I could more effectively teach them.

Another quote from Reading Essentials was about how we all find some children hard to love, but that does not mean we cannot bond with those kids who we clash with. In fact, no matter what kind of distress a child causes us, it is imperative to bond with them. In my field placement, I know there are certain students who I or my MT just don't really get along with, but I see that she has bonded with all of her students regardless. I hope I can do the same before my time with them is up.

A colleague also discussed bonding here.

I love my lab

Why teach tech

I support integrating technology into your teaching, but I also think that not everything that is valuable for students to learn must be taught via technology and I argue that some things are learned best without the presence of technology. However, tech 2.0 is very powerful for many students, and I do plan to integrate it the best I can in my instruction. However, I also know that many lessons I teach will not have a technology element because it is not my favorite thing in the world and sometimes, I will not have the energy to find a way to incorporate the use of technology in a valuable manner.

The middle school experience

Well, my middle school dyad experience is almost over, and I have mixed feelings about leaving. On one hand, I spent more time grading than interacting with students, which I think is less helpful to my personal growth. I am glad I am moving on to a different MT whom I see more eye-to-eye with. On the other hand, I wish I could spend more time in a middle school science classroom of a different teacher at the school, since MS science is my planned destination.

Next year, when I look at my 6th, 7th, or 8th graders and try to figure out what the heck to do about their behavior, I will be practicing trial by fire. Maybe I'll get really lucky and whatever district I am working for will have lots of extra helpful middle school behavior management. I plan to have engaging lessons so as to avoid behavior problems, but between now and next September, I need to figure out how to act tough and confident, cause if you show adolescents any fear or nervousness, they will milk that and make your life miserable. Not all of them, but a high enough percentage of them to make your days extremely difficult.

I know I want to teach MS science, the content, and I am OK to deal with the negative aspects of adolescents in order to get the positive interactions as well.

Making Assessment Count

Routman says, in CH 10, that "unless teachers know how to teach writing well, student writing will not improve." Her point, I think, is that no matter what kinds of assessment teachers do, if the teacher does not teach writing well, there will never be any improvement.

Routman emphasizes assessment FOR learning and improved instruction rather than relying solely on assessment OF learning. She makes valuable points when she states that most (80%) of student writing needn't be graded. She also argues that just as students need to practice reading without pressure to improve reading skills, they also need to practice writing to become better writers. I do not think my education gave me enough practice in writing. I agree with the principle of not all writing being graded, but at the same time, some students, without the pressure of grades, won't do anything. They'll say, well if I'm not getting graded than why do it when I could be doing something else more fun. Some people have intrinsic motivation to do well at schoolwork, and they don't need the grades, but some people never developed that. How do you teach students the importance of delayed gratification? I hope I can teach it to my kids, but I do not know how I will teach it to my students. Probably, like many things, something one has to learn by making many mistakes along the way.

Routman argues that too many teachers focus on only what will be tested rather than teaching the underlying skills and strategies that result in writing competency. I agree with this statement, but I also appreciate her paragraph later in the chapter that states teachers still need to teach students how to write to prompts, because although it is unnatural, it is also very common. Students will have to write to many prompts in their life: on standardized tests, on college applications, on job applications.

Letting go of perfection and impatience

Lamott, p. 182: "Your unconscious can't work when you are breathing down its neck. You'll sit there going, 'Are you done in there yet, are you done in there yet?'. But it is trying to tell you nicely, 'Shut up and go away.'" 

Lamott wrote this in her chapter on writer's block, and it is so true. The minute I start fretting over if my brain is done yet, if this sentence works right here, worrying about the assignment getting done by the due date, my unconscious works poorly. Exhaustion has a similar effect on me and my brain. That's why I call 11:30 my pumpkin time--I turn into a pumpkin; my brain stops working, it all shuts down, I get whiny and crabby and just can't think.  When I am trying to force something to come about more quickly than it wants to, when I am breathing down my unconscious's neck, I also turn into a pumpkin. I am less accepting of this pumpkin time. I get angry at my unconscious, and I need to find a way to let that anger go. 

I think students of mine need to be able to leave their unconscious alone as well, so that it can do its work. My unconscious, and my students' unconsciouses, does not need constant supervision, just like many children do not really need constant supervision. If you are always on top of your unconscious or a child about being productive or focused, it/he/she rebels, and washes away all creativity that it might have offered. It was suffocated, sheltered, and never had time to try its wings which really probably would have otherwise worked pretty darn well, but since it didn't get enough air, it has caved in on itself, given up the ghost. Sad, I think.

Hearts of Writers

On p. 159 in Lamott's Bird by Bird, she writes the following:
"They've gone from being four tense, slightly conceited, lonely people...to one of those weird little families....They all look a lot less slick and cool...because helping each other has made their hearts get bigger. A big heart is both a clunky and delicate thing; it doesn't protect itself and it doesn't hide. It stands out, like a baby's fontanel, where you can see the soul pulse through. You can see this pulse in them now." She later says something about this is the way writers have to be--and regularly mentions how close to our hearts writing is. 


I like this quote because it so eloquently describes what it is like to give wholly of yourself to things in your life, be they writing or relationships or whatever. I am one of those people who gives wholly at first, and if I am soundly rejected or denounced or if my vulnerability is taken advantage of in some other way, I hurt a lot, and take a while to heal. And if I get to a comfort level following a rejection, where I feel it is safe to put my whole self out there, and it is again rejected, I become very very timid. I have been lucky in personal and familial relationships--I have always been able to recover pretty quickly because I am convinced they really do still love me, but this has not been the case in professional relationships or in relationships I have had as a writer with editors or graders of some kind. 


I think the heart Lamott describes in her passage is the best one to have, overall, and I still have that heart with most things in my life, the more important things in life (family, significant other), but in some parts of my life, my big pulsing heart is still in pieces.