Tag: teachers

Rants, Teacher

Dear Mr. Lapierre, VP of the NRA – I’m a teacher…so, where’s my gun?

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A fourth grade teacher receives firearms training in West Valley City, Utah. (Rick Bowmer/Associated Press)
A fourth grade teacher receives firearms training in West Valley City, Utah. (Rick Bowmer/Associated Press)

Hi, Wayne…may I call you Wayne? You don’t know me, but I’m a teacher. And I gotta tell you, you’re starting to scare me.I know you have the best of intentions. Like all of us, you don’t want to see anymore children killed because some lunatic with a gun was able to get into a school and go on a rampage. So far, I’m with you. And I even agree that some schools would benefit from having a trained police officer in their school. Some of the high schools in my area have one and it’s great. They offer all kinds of services besides standing armed guard.

Where you lose me is when you suggest that perhaps school personnel ought to be armed.

When I was a kid, my father hunted and he kept two shotguns on the floor of his bedroom closet. My brother and I knew they were there and we also knew where he kept the ammunition (in his sock drawer). We also knew that if we went anywhere near the guns, we wouldn’t be able to sit down for a week. And so we didn’t. To be honest, they scared me to death. My dad tried to teach me how to shoot. The first (and only) time I fired off a gun, I just missed hitting one of my grandparent’s cows.

So seriously, Wayne, no one wants to see me with a gun. No amount of training in the world is going to turn me into a sharpshooter. I know you would offer to give me training and such, but really, it’s all I can do to keep up with the new math curriculum.

And even if I wanted one, I can’t imagine that my school board would allow me to keep a gun in my desk. For gawds sake, I’m not allowed to use Lysol wipes to clean the children’s desks because of the chemicals. Liquid Paper is a no-no because someone might try to sniff it. Even plastic knives in lunchboxes are taboo, because someone might accidentally cut their finger or god forbid, wave it around near another child.

Finally, I have no idea where I would keep a gun in my classroom. My desk is overflowing and my cabinets are full. I’d have to keep it well hidden, because these kids are like monkeys! They can get their hands on anything and I sure as hell don’t want them getting a hold of a loaded weapon. These kids are experts at Call of Duty IV.

I know you’ve offered to put one of your 4 million NRA members in our school and I thank you for your generous offer. But, no offense or anything, how do I know one of your well-armed men or women isn’t a raging lunatic under the surface? I mean, really…do you know ALL 4 million of these people personally?

There are crazy people everywhere who look and act just like you and me. Giving one of them a gun and inviting them into my school just doesn’t seem like a good idea.

So, thanks, Wayne, but I’ll pass. I’ll pass on the gun, just like I’ll pass on the bunker in case of a nuclear attack and the body armor to protect myself from a zombie apocalypse. Instead, I’ll support stricter gun control laws and increased mental health services. That should help keep the crazies out of my school and let me get back to my real job of teaching.

Princess, Rants, Suburban, Teacher

UPDATE: Peter Speight: We are never, ever, ever getting back together…like…ever.

suburbanprincessteacher

UPDATE – Peter Speight, the sex-offender/former teacher in the New Germany, NS area, has agreed to resign and give up his teaching licence in exchange for a big whack of cash. The amount is confidential but it is on top of the $150,000 in back pay that he says he deserves. Whatever. He’s gone and the community of New Germany can breathe a big sigh of relief. Read more at: http://ckbwnews.blogspot.ca/

lemonadeDear Peter,

Seriously, dude? Did you not read my last letter? What are you doing?

I get it. We all get it. You want your teaching job back. The same job you had before you pleaded guilty to sex charges. You want to come back and teach grade 3, in your old school, like nothing ever happened.  And you want your money back. The money you didn’t make…because you didn’t work…because you were fired…for pleading guilty to sexual offenses. (Do you not hear how crazy this sounds?)

If you had any doubts as to how people felt about you coming back, I would hope last night’s (court ordered) restorative justice session at your old school put those notions to bed. I read in this morning’s paper that more than 100 concerned citizens showed up to say they do not want you teaching their children – ever. The goal was to come up with a reintegration plan to bring you back, but as the coordinator of the session said after it ended, “we couldn’t get to that point because they were too heated about the fact they don’t want him back in the school.”

Peter, Peter, Peter. I’ve taught Grade 3 and let me tell you something about grade 3 students: they aren’t stupid. They hear things and they sense things and they will know on Day 1 that you are the guy who did that weird thing in his car with those ladies. And trust me: their imaginations will make what you did freakier than anything you could ever imagine.

They also aren’t wired to understand that you did something gross and weird a few years ago, but now you’re all better. Their sense of time is a little warped. To them, five years is like five days.

They may also be frightened of you because sex is something they don’t really understand yet. We don’t teach the ins-and-outs of sex until they are much older because most of them aren’t ready for that kind of discussion. What in the world could their parents tell them if they are placed in your class? “Well, dear, if he reaches for his zipper, grab your things and get the hell out of there.” Not a discussion I would want to have with my eight-year-old.

But I shouldn’t have to tell you this. You should already know this because you are an educated, experienced teacher. This leaves me to conclude that you are not rehabilitated. If you were truly sorry for what you had done to your community, especially the children, you would not be putting them through this shitshow. This quest for your old job has become a weird obsession that none of us understand. And we all know where your last strange obsession led.

Memoir, Princess, Suburban, Teacher

Puppies: Better than Booze

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Puppy RoomDalhousie University has just introduced a puppy room to help its students deal with the stress from Christmas exams. I’ve watched a few of the videos on-line. These stressed-out university students look like little kids.  As soon as they reach out to the dogs, their smiles and giggles become completely genuine. You can just see the tension slipping away from their backpack laden shoulders.

I know I would have been a frequent flyer at the puppy room if they had had one when I was at university. Just before I started my second year, my parents packed up our house, gave away our dog and moved 4,000 miles away. It felt surreal as I moved into an apartment downtown with my best friend. I went from being a very sheltered teenager to being a scared little college girl overnight. I was going on the world’s longest sleepover and my parents were never coming to pick me up.

We didn’t have a puppy room at my university. We did have a pub, though. And that’s how most of us dealt with stress. Trust me. There were many mornings I wished I had spent the evening at the puppy room instead of the pub. Sadly, I was not unique. University students are well known to be heavy, binge drinkers. Some of that, no doubt, is due to the excitement of having the freedom to do whatever you want without your parents looking over your shoulder. But a big part of it is because alcohol is a stress releaser. After a few drinks, you stop worrying about your assignments and your exams. You forget about your money problems and your relationship issues. Life’s a party when you’re loaded! Unfortunately, the next day, those good (albeit: fuzzy) feelings are gone, often replaced by feelings of embarrassment over last night’s actions. Once the booze wears off, the stress returns, often with a vengeance.

A dog never makes you regret patting it the night before. You could pat a dog all night long and never wake up feeling guilty or stupid or regretful. Unfortunately, we don’t all have 24-hour access to a soft, calming animal. That’s why it’s important for our children and our students to know how to deal with stress so that it motivates, rather than paralyzes them.

As an elementary teacher, I’ve tried to help my students see school as something they can enjoy, not dread. Part of my job is to help them feel comfortable with writing tests. I emphasize that tests are just one way to show what we know. We talk about how to read the directions. We practice examples. We write practice tests that look exactly like the real test, except with different questions. We have discussions about how stressing over something doesn’t make you do any better. In fact, it often makes you do worse. I also tell them that in the big story of their lives, one math test is not going to make or break them. If you bomb the test, it doesn’t mean that you will end up living like a hobo in a ditch somewhere, while all of your friends go off to be doctors and lawyers. All it means is that for some reason you didn’t get what we learned this week in this particular area. No worries. We’ll work on it. Just breathe.

To paraphrase the great philosopher, Steven Tyler, I want my students and my children to know that  “life’s a journey, not a destination.” Live in the moment. Learn from the bad times and move on. And if you have the choice between cuddling a puppy and chugging a six pack, you’re better off with the puppy every time.

http://www.cbc.ca/news/yourcommunity/2012/12/students-instagram-dalhousies-puppy-room-therapy-dogs.html

Rants, Suburban, Teacher

An Open Letter to Peter Speight, former South Shore Regional teacher and admitted sex offender

suburbanprincessteacher

Dear Peter,

I have been reading in the paper that you are trying to get reinstated as an elementary school teacher. As a woman, a fellow teacher, and the mother of two school-age children, I have a favor to ask of you.

Please. Stop. Now.

From what I understand, and correct me if I’m wrong, you were fired from your teaching job in New Germany in 2008, when you admitted to committing indecent acts. In an article in the Chronicle-Herald, you said you had gotten into a “strange habit” of masturbating in your car and then calling women over to watch. (http://thechronicleherald.ca/novascotia/207214-ns-court-rules-teacher-guilty-of-sex-charge-must-be-rehired)

You said you never targeted children, which I’m sure was a relief to the parents of the children in your class. I also read that you were given a conditional discharge in 2009, which must have been a big relief to you. The South Shore Regional School Board fired you but you appealed that decision. An arbitrator was called in and said that you should only get a one year suspension without pay. The school board challenged that decision in court but, once again, the stars and the law were on your side and a Supreme Court judge ruled that no errors had been made in the original judgment. If I understand correctly, you are looking to get not only your job back but the money that you lost during your time off without pay? About $150,000, I read?

Now, I agree with Pierre Trudeau’s philosophy that the nation has no place in the bedrooms of Canadians. But, seriously dude, you left your bedroom, went out in your car and got busy in public. That’s not cool. And then purposely calling women over so they could see what you were “up” to? That’s less than cool, that’s against the law. And it’s nasty.

As a fellow elementary school teacher, I want you to think about what you’re asking here. Do you seriously expect parents to trust you with their children? It’s hard enough for teachers these days to earn the respect of parents without asking them to trust an admitted sex offender. I guarantee you, if you win this fight, it won’t end in the courts. When the class lists go up in September, your fight will start all over again.

As a woman, you should know that your story creeps me out. Not because you enjoyed sitting in your car, alone, pleasuring yourself. That’s icky but when you called unsuspecting women over to watch? That’s when you crossed the line into scary territory. I enjoy walking or jogging by myself during the day and I’ve always felt safe doing so. If I had been one of the women you had called over to your car to shock (?) surprise(?) scare(?) that sense of safety would be forever ruined for me. And I guess that’s my biggest issue here: we don’t know why you did it. What did you get out this? Was it a power issue? And how do we know the next time the urge hits you won’t grab the woman who comes over to your car? Just because no one was physically hurt, it seems that a legal slap on the wrist was enough. But trust me, those women who trusted you and came over to your car, no doubt thinking you needed help, are now less trusting and less secure when they are out alone. You did that.

Finally, as a mother, I know I couldn’t in good conscience send my child to your class every day and just cross my fingers that you were rehabilitated and that no other “stange habits” would pop up during the school year. I don’t know if you have children but there’s nothing more important to a parent than your child’s well being.

I am guessing that you became a teacher for the same reasons the rest of us do – you love kids and teaching and learning. And I get why you want your job back. No doubt you worked hard to get it and, by all accounts, you were good at it.

But, if you truly care about children and the teaching profession and your community, please abandon this quest to get your job back. You may have the law on your side, but it’s not right. Teach adults who can make an educated decision about whether they feel they can trust you.

Let it go, Peter. It’s time to move on.

Rants, Raves, Teacher

If we can’t direct the winds, we must adjust our sails – The case of Jeffrey Moore.

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Chris Jeanguenat, Sailboats in Stormy Seas

It’s easy to understand why schools are built with wheelchair ramps – without the ramp, a child in a wheelchair would not be able to access the same educational services as other children his or her age. (Insert – duh! – here.) Even the most curmudgeonly among us would have a hard time complaining about taxpayer money being spent to install a ramp at a school.

When a child’s disabilities are invisible, however, that’s when things start to get confusing for some people.  A child with a learning disability has average to above average intelligence and, like most of us, has areas of strength but also areas of serious weakness. These challenges often require extra support, alternate programming and adaptations in order for that child to be successful. This, like anything else that steps outside the norm, costs money. And once you start talking money, human compassion starts to wane.

Recently the Supreme Court of Canada ruled in favor of a family who took their child out of public school in British Columbia in grade 4 and put him in a private school when it became clear the school could not meet his special learning needs.

In the early 1990’s, Jeffrey Moore was struggling to keep up with his Grade 2 classmates. Despite extra help from his parents and teachers, Jeff could still not read. The school psychologist was brought in and it was discovered that Jeff had a learning disability – dyslexia, which meant he had great difficulty reading. She recommended that he attend the local diagnostic centre in order to receive the help he needed. Unfortunately, before Jeff had a chance to enroll, the local school board closed the centre. By this point, Jeff was suffering from low self-esteem, constant headaches, stress and was falling further and further behind his peers. His school was offering him the same services that other children with his issues were getting, but they weren’t enough. He needed specific services that his public school and school board were unable to provide.

Based on recommendations from the school psychologist, Jeff’s parents felt their only option was to enroll him in a private school for children with learning disabilities. So they did. It was expensive but it worked. Jeff’s reading improved and he was a much happier little boy. But his parents felt it wasn’t fair. They felt the government had a responsibility to provide an education to all students, even those with learning disabilities.

So, in 1997, Jeff’s father, Frederick Moore, filed a human rights complaint against the School District and the British Columbia Ministry of Education alleging that Jeff had been discriminated against because of his disability and had been denied “a service . . customarily available to the public”, contrary to s. 8 of the Human Rights Code, R.S.B.C. 1996, c. 210.

Basically what Jeff’s parents were asking was for their child to be given the same chances as every other child to be successful at school. Because of his learning disability, he needed something extra in order to level the playing field. He needed a ramp upon which he could climb the hill that dyslexia had put in front of him.

This is the analogy Madam Justice Rosalie Abella used when awarding the unanimous decision of the Supreme Court in favor of Jeff and his parents.

“Adequate special education, therefore, is not a dispensable luxury. For those with severe learning disabilities, it is the ramp that provides access to the statutory commitment to education made to all children in British Columbia.” Moore v. British Columbia (Education),2012 SCC 61.

The justices awarded Jeff’s parents $100,000 for the costs involved for his private schooling. Jeff, now 23, was awarded $10,000 for the discrimination he suffered.

Jeff’s father said he was driven to take the case as far as he could because he felt public schools had an obligation to help all children succeed.  Moore’s lawyer Frances Kelly said the decision sets a national precedent and sends a message to all public schools. “This is a warning to them that they have to comply with their duties under the human rights code to ensure that students with learning disabilities have the same access to education as other students.” (http://www.vancouversun.com/news/education/North+Vancouver+school+district+discriminated+against/7524870/story.html#ixzz2CPUpXZ4v)

The Globe and Mail published an editorial immediately following the ruling strongly condemning the Supreme Court for “overstepping its authority”.

The Supreme Court of Canada has opened a Pandora’s box for public school boards by finding that a British Columbia school district discriminated against a dyslexic child when, during a financial crisis, it closed a special-education centre that provided him intensive help in learning to read. From here on, schools, school boards or provinces could be forced to bleed other programs to meet court-ordered educational standards for special-needs students. (http://www.theglobeandmail.com/commentary/editorials/supreme-court-ruling-on-special-education-opens-pandoras-box/article5169193/)

On November 16, the Vancouver Sun published an opinion piece by Derek James From, a staff lawyer with the Canadian Constitution Foundation. It reads like diatribe from a right-wing American pundit. He notes that Jeffrey is now making a good living as a plumber and therefore, no blood, no foul.

“Perhaps it’s Jeffrey, not the hard-working B.C. taxpayers, who should pay his father back.”http://www.vancouversun.com/news/Supreme+Court+ruling+rejects+equality+favour+another/7562452/story.html#ixzz2CnAp9F1R

Wow – talk about totally missing the point. Jeffrey is making a good living now thanks to the fact that he was taken from his public school and put in a private school, at his parent’s expense, where his needs were met. Who knows where he would be now if his parents had not been able to make this commitment?

But Jeffrey Moore’s individual situation is not the point of this story. The Supreme Court of Canada has said that children with learning disabilities have every right to be taught the way they learn. I will repeat: Children have a right to be taught the way they learn. We have to stop cramming our little square pegs into round holes. It’s not working. These children have a disability that requires a “ramp”. Just because it’s not visible doesn’t mean it’s not there. And yes, it’s going to cost money. Probably lots of money. But the argument that this will hurt the so-called average child is bull-puckey. Any teacher who has ever taught a class that includes a child with a learning disability (and that would be every teacher in North America, I would guess) can tell you that having no support for that child affects every other child in the room. I have had classes where, no lie, half of my class had some sort of learning difference, some very severe, and classroom support was minimal. When those children don’t have the supports they need, do you know who provides it? The classroom teacher. And who suffers when the classroom teacher’s attention is pulled in one direction and then another? All of the children, even the so-called average kids.

This ruling by the Supreme Court may change the face of education. And I hope it does. We are going to have to re-think the way we do things. There isn’t an endless pot of money at the end of the rainbow. Things will have to cut and reduced. The status quo is going to have to change in order to meet the needs of all children. And so it should.

The winds have changed. It’s time to adjust out sails.

Read the full Supreme Court ruling (ie. the legal mumbo-jumbo) here: http://scc.lexum.org/decisia-scc-csc/scc-csc/scc-csc/en/item/12680/index.do

Memoir, Pop Culture, Princess, Rants, Suburban

Pears vs. apples – Why you should never ask a woman if she’s eating for two

suburbanprincessteacher

 POP QUIZ!
When is it OK to ask a woman if she’s “eating for two”?
a. Never
b. When hell freezes over.
c. When you see the baby’s head crowning.
d. When she’s eating.

I have read that there are two types of bodies – pears and apples. Pear shaped women are apparently the lucky ones, despite the fact they sometimes seem oddly out of proportion. They look like “real women” – all hips and boobs and tiny waists. We are told that this is also good thing in terms of health. And of course it is. Because I am an apple shape.  Us apples carry our weight around our middles, much like pregnant women. Apple men can rub their bellies and say, “This is one nice belly. Yup, I earned this belly.” A woman does that and everyone assumes there is a child nestled in there. And god forbid if there isn’t. Then she’s just a slob. The pear shaped woman can just smile and wiggle those ample hips of hers. That doesn’t work so well for the apple woman. Shaking my ample belly doesn’t have quite the same womanly affect.

All of that said: what on earth possesses people to ask a woman of ANY age if she is pregnant? Seriously. As an elementary school teacher, I have worked with hundreds of women of child-bearing age and it has never occurred to me to ask any of them if they are “with child” or “eating for two”. Or even worse, pat their belly and say, “Congratulations!” And yet I’ve seen it happen (and had it done to me) on many an occasion. It is horrifically embarrassing for everyone involved when a mistake has been made. The poor (usually apple-shaped) woman has to smile, say no, and make some joke about having eaten too many donuts that morning. The person who has made the faux-pas, hopefully, feels mortified and starts to stammer, “Oh I’m so sorry. It must be that blouse you’re wearing…” The people within earshot immediately have something else to do that requires them to leave the premises as quickly as possible.

Here’s a fact: sometimes women have bellies that protrude. It may be their body-type, monthly bloating, a tumour, or just too much cake going in the cake hole. Or they may actually BE pregnant, but not ready to share that information with the world. Whatever the reason, your mouth should stay shut until you get the birth announcement in the mail.

So, the answer to the above question is of course: a. Never, never, never. I don’t care if you see that baby’s head hanging out from below a lady’s skirts. I don’t care if you have just come back from hell wearing a toque and a parka. Don’t ask, wait to be told. And if (god help you) you ask a woman if she’s eating for two when she’s actually eating?! I’m sorry. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

Rants, Raves, Teacher

Ensuring Good to Great-Teaching 21st century kids in a 21st century world

suburbanprincessteacher

Quick: what’s the first rule of Fight Club? Remember the 1999 movie starring Brad Pitt where he takes his shirt off a lot and fights other buff guys in basements and parking lots? (OK, stop thinking about that now. Focus. Back to me.) So, the first rule of Fight Club?  You do not talk about Fight Club. The second rule of Fight Club is: you DO NOT talk about Fight Club.

Being part of the teacher’s union is sort of like being part of Fight Club (minus the hot guys with their shirts off – that may happen in some places but sadly, never where I’ve worked).  As a teacher, I do my job and I don’t talk about what my union is doing, at least not in a non-positive, super-supportive way. Now don’t get me wrong. I appreciate everything my union has done for me. God knows, if I had to teach and negotiate my own contract, I would have left long ago. They allow me to do my job; however, just as there are things I could do better as a teacher, I think there are things my union could do better as well.

Across North America we are seeing teacher unions decimated by their government leaders and demonized in the court of public opinion. In order to balance budgets and leave no child behind, governments have slowly but surely worked to take power and control away from the unions and put it into the hands of administrators. In response, many unions have retaliated by threatening to strike, only to have that option legislated away. When they use the only other means available to them, their actual work with children, they find themselves attacked by parents and the press. Teachers are only in the profession for the money, the benefits and the summers off! It seems like teachers and their unions just can’t win.

So, where do we go from here?

While researching teacher unions in the 21st century, I came across an interview with Randi Weingarten, president of the American Federation of Teachers.  Ms. Weingarten, whose union represents more than 1.5 million teachers across the United States, was a key speaker at the Aspen Ideas Festival this summer. Her presentation Can Teacher Unions be Partners in Reforming Schools in the 21st century? focused on what teacher unions need to do better in this ever-changing world.

She admitted that unions, hers in particular, haven’t always put quality teaching at the forefront.

“We…were wrong. Not that we meant to be wrong but our job initially was about fairness, not about quality. Our goal was to make sure teachers and our other members were treated fairly. Our job has to be about quality as well. Due process has to be about fairness, not about job security for life. Not about being used as an excuse for managers not to manage or a cloak for incompetence.”

She said it’s not enough for some teachers to be great.

“What we have to do is ensure good to great for all teachers.”

In response to questions posed by Walter Isaacson, President and CEO of the Aspen Institute, Ms. Weingarten touched on a variety of subjects, including the controversial “bar exam for teachers”, but her focus always went back to making teachers accountable.

“We need to have real evaluation systems that can assess whether teachers are doing their jobs. And if they’re not, you help them. If they’re not, they shouldn’t be teachers.”

“What we have seen is that schools that work…have collaborative environments where there’s a real thoughtful process for how you recruit, support, retain and yes, dismiss, teachers.”

So, how do we make certain that our children are getting the teachers they deserve?

First, she said, we need to ensure that teachers have the tools and conditions they need in order to teach properly.

“You can’t give new teachers a rigorous kind of methodology to teach and then basically say, ‘You’re on your own.’ It’s not fair to the kids and it’s not fair to the teachers.”

Then, she said, teachers need to ask themselves: Did I teach the material? And most importantly: Did the students learn it? This is where standardized testing has a role to play. Sometimes a teacher can present a lesson and feel that it was the best lesson she has ever taught, only to discover that the majority of students didn’t really understand.

Ms. Weingarten was quick to point out that while standardized tests serve a purpose, they should not become the end goal.

“You have to look at the data to see if kids get it,” she told the audience. “You have to have enough data so that people concentrate on it, but when it becomes predominant then education becomes about testing and not about teaching and frankly the current generation of tests have no connection with what we have to teach kids right now. [They] are about the memorization of facts as opposed to about how kids critically think.”

If the jobs of tomorrow require critical thinking and creativity, why are we still teaching kids to memorize facts and then regurgitate them on a series of standardized tests? According to Ms.Weingarten, this focus on testing is one of the most serious problems facing education today.

Teachers need to be trained to teach critically, she said. New teachers need to be able to walk into a classroom feeling prepared, as opposed to the ‘sink or swim’ model we have now. Half of all teachers in the United   States leave teaching within the first three to five years, she pointed out.

“Love is important. You have to love kids to be a school teacher. You have to know your content. And you have to have a pedagogical bag of tricks so that you can differentiate instruction.”

This ability to offer differentiated teaching is what makes teachers great, she said.

“It’s how we go to our toolkit and understand that Walter is different than Randi, that Celia is different than Michael. [It’s] how we actually engage with kids to try to create that seminal moment of learning.”

At the end of her presentation, she went back to her initial question: can teacher unions be a part of educational reform in the 21st century?

“If we actually want to help all kids, the union needs to be a partner in this,” she said. “At the end of the day, if we don’t start focusing on…how we are solution-driven, how we problem solve, how we ensure that all kids get what they need in the public space instead of this constant polarization, education is not going to get better.”

And that’s the goal, isn’t it? To continue to improve education so that it meets the needs of all children? Having unions and governments, parents and teachers, all at each other’s throats does nothing to help students. We need to work together to figure out how best to teach 21st century kids in the 21st century.

So, I’m doing it. I’m breaking Rules #1 and #2 and I’m talking about my union (albeit anonymously and with loads of trepidation). I am grateful for everything they do but I want to make sure the voices of students are heard above all else. In the long run, I think it’s the best thing for me, as a teacher and a parent, and for our planet as a whole.

___________________________________________________________________

Presentation at the Aspen Ideas Festival, June 30, 2012 – “Can Teacher Unions be Partners in reforming schools in the 21st century?” Link to complete video of presentation: http://www.aspenideas.org/session/can-teacher-unions-be-partners-reforming-schools-21st-century

Memoir, Pop Culture, Princess, Teacher

“OMG – What are those things?!” – Why teachers should always preview the class movie.

suburbanprincessteacher

I popped the DVD in the machine and turned out the lights.

“Is everybody ready?” I asked.

The kids had moved all of the desks to the back of the room and pulled their chairs to the front. Some were less than a foot away from the big screen TV I had managed to snag from the AV room.

“Move out of the way, Josh. I can’t see!” one of the girls yelled.

“Move your own chair,” Josh said. “What? You got a piano tied to your butt?”

Josh’s friends laughed.

“OK, enough,” I said. “Remember. I can turn this off anytime. I need you to cooperate with me. I have to finish these reading assessments by the end of the day and the only way I’m going to do that is if you all watch the movie and eat your snack and be quiet. Got it?”

“Yeah, yeah,” they all grumbled.

‘This movie is called Babies. It’s about one year in the life four babies. One is from Mongolia, one is from Namibia, one is from San Francisco and the other one is from Tokyo. You can see how babies are raised in ways that are very different from here.”

“Have you seen it, Mrs. H?” one boy asked.

My heart stopped a little bit. No, I hadn’t. I had meant to preview it during the week but other things kept bumping it off my to-do list.  I figured: it’s an award winning documentary, rated G…what could possibly go wrong? It’s rated G, for heavens sake. Most of these kids had already seen movies that I still couldn’t watch for fear of nightmares.

“No, I haven’t but it has won a ton of awards and I think it will be great. You will learn about babies for health class and about different countries for social studies. Two birds with one stone! Hooray! Now, when I call your name, I need you to join me in the hall for your reading assessment. It will only take a few minutes and then you’ll be right back at the movie. OK?”

“Yes. We promise,” said the one girl who might have actually been listening to me. The rest of them were trading snacks, whispering to the friends, and moving their chairs to get a better view.

I hit play and called the first name on my alphabetical list.

“Ryan, my friend. You are first.”

Two chairs were set up in the hall perfectly so that I could see the class (but not the movie) and they could see me but not the reader. It was a delicate balance of supervision and assessment and doing these two things at once was challenging, to say the least. It would be a wonder if I didn’t have a split personality by the end of the day.

Ryan read his piece smoothly and quickly, while the rest of the class was immersed in their snacks and the movie. One down, 29 to go.

“Katie!”

“Robert!”

I had six students done when the buzzing started.

“What is that?”

“What is she doing?”

“Is that a…?”

“Oh my God! That’s her boob!”

The class went crazy.

“No way!” somebody shouted.

“Yes, look at it. It’s huge! It’s bigger than that baby’s whole head.”

“Oh my god. That’s sooo gross.”

The giggling had reached a peak and could be heard in the hall and beyond.

I dropped my clipboard of reading scores and raced into the room. The student I was reading with somehow made it there ahead of me.

Sure enough, there was the Nambian mother, completely topless, feeding her baby. Her heavy breasts hung almost to the ground and two babies were simultaneously sucking on them and playing with them.

And then, as quickly as it started, it was over. The film moved back to the California baby demurely drinking formula from a bottle fed to her by her father. I paused the movie and considered my options.

“Nooo! Turn it back on!”

“Don’t stop the movie just for that, Mrs. H! It’s no big deal. It’s natural, right?”

If I stopped the movie now, there would be no way I would finish the reading assessments by the weekend. And besides, they were right. Breastfeeding is natural and there was nothing gratuitous about the scene.  Next year they would all get the “sex talk” despite the fact that some of them still played with dolls and action figures.

“Do you think you can handle this maturely, boys and girls?” I asked, pretending like I trusted them to act more mature than my husband would if he were watching the same movie.

“We promise!”

“Pinky swear!”

So, I turned the movie back on, crossed my fingers, and called the next name.

The lesson I learned that day? Well, that previewing a movie before showing it to 30 ten-year-olds is not just a “good” idea, it’s essential. I was lucky it was just a little boob on display. Amazingly, I didn’t get any flack over the movie. I don’t know if the kids just didn’t tell their parents or if the parents agreed with me that it wouldn’t hurt them but I know I lucked out. So, do yourself a favour and watch the movie first and if you see boob or hear cursing, you might want to put it aside and find yourself a new electronic babysitter. Just a tip.

 

Memoir, Pop Culture, Rants, Suburban, Teacher

Children do not fall off turnip trucks. It’s time for parents of bullies to get their heads out of their posteriors.

suburbanprincessteacher

Children do not fall off turnip trucks. (I mean, I suppose literally, some do, in rural Mississippi or southern Ontario, but really, those things are freak accidents.)

Children do not come to school, empty vessels, only to be filled up by what they learn from teachers and peers.  As the old saying goes, children learn what they live. Don’t get me wrong: I know that sometimes, despite everything we do as parents, our kids will go off the rails. But then it’s our responsibility to do everything we can to get them back on track again. Sticking your head in the sand and saying, “Not my kid!” only makes things worse.

The issue of bullying has once again reared its ugly head with the recent suicide of BC teen, Amanda Todd.  This poor child, already suffering from depression, was bullied on-line, in school and out. Despite desperate interventions from her parents and her school, she still felt powerless and alone and eventually took her own life.

There is no doubt that schools have an important role to play in the prevention and treatment of bullying. Teachers and administrators see kids at work in the classrooms and at play on the school ground. And here’s a little secret: most of the time, teachers already know who the bullies are. There are a few, usually the charming kids who are good are being sly and flying under the radar, who come as a surprise but most teachers can tell within the first month of school who is being mean to whom without anyone having to come tell. And teachers deal with small acts of meanness and bullying everyday. It’s a fact of life when dealing with people in groups – kindness and nastiness will occur and hopefully the kindness will outweigh the nastiness.

The problem occurs when schools attempt to deal with the bigger issue of bullying. Bullying is not a one time thing – like two friends having an argument over what to do at recess. Bullying is when a person or group of people targets an individual repeatedly over time using aggression to humiliate or hurt their victim.

Parents are always very willing do anything they need to do once they find out that their child is the victim of bullying. But the scenario changes greatly when parents are told that their child is the bully.

“No. Not my child. My child wouldn’t do that,” they say.

 “I know it’s difficult to hear, Mr. and Mrs. Smith,” the principal tells the stone-faced parents. “But the other child said that your child has been taunting him, pushing him and stealing his lunch treats for weeks now. We have witnesses who have verified this.”

 “They’re lying. I asked my son and he said he didn’t do it and my kid doesn’t lie.”

 “Some of the witnesses are teachers and lunch monitors at the school. They said when they confronted your son he admitted it. He actually confessed everything to me and wrote a letter of apology when he was brought to the office.”

 The principal hands the parents a letter which they refuse to take.

 “I don’t care what that says,” the mother snips. “You forced him to write that. He said you bullied him into doing it.”

 “Mr. and Mrs. Smith, I know this is difficult,” the teacher begins. “But some of these incidents have been recorded on the school’s video cameras. We can show you those now.”

 “Those things can be faked!” the father sputters, turning red in the face. “I saw a thing on it on 20/20 about it last week. You people have had it out for my kid ever since he started at this school. All of his teachers suck and the other kids are mean to him. He doesn’t do anything. He’s the victim in all this.”

 At this point, the principal looks out the window and sees the child in question on the playground. She points this out to the parents and everyone in the meeting looks out the window.

 Young Billy is walking around the playground alone. Suddenly he walks over to another student who has his back to him and pushes him to the ground. The teacher on duty runs over and pulls him away just as he’s about to kick the other child.

 The principal gasps and shakes her head.

 “This is exactly what I’m talking about,” she says to the parents. “So what can we do about it?”

 The parents stand up and walk towards the door.

 “This is harassment,” the mother says.

 “You’ll be hearing from our lawyer,” says the father.

 They nab their son as he’s being brought into the office and tell him that he’s coming home with them.

“Wahoo! Freedom!” he shouts.

 As he’s going out the door, the kid turns around and yells, “See ya later, suckers.” And gives everyone the finger.

 Until the parents of the bullies take their heads out of their proverbial asses, the problem won’t get better. The most schools can do is implement short term suspensions. In reality, this usually means the kid gets to stay home and play video games all day, while the parents complain that once again their kid is being punished for nothing.

I used to work for an amazing woman who believed that, “everyone who is a pain, has a pain.” Kids who are happy and content with themselves don’t bully other kids. If your kid is bullying, you have a problem. Put your ego away and deal with it. Your child, and mine, is counting on it.

Memoir, Teacher

“You smell like fruit” and other compliments from my students

suburbanprincessteacher

Marshall was an odd boy, by any definition of the word. He didn’t have an official “diagnosis” but he was definitely…outside the norm. For one, he talked like a robot and two, he was little obsessed with aliens and anal probing.

I started teaching his class late that year. My mother died on the first day of school, so I was in Ontario when they all arrived. Being the conscientious teacher that I was, I gave the eulogy, packed up some of her things, gave my father a fortifying hug and was back to work within the week. (Ed. note: yes, I know. Craaaazy!)

It was a new school for me and starting late did nothing to ease my angst. My large class of grade 5’s was well known for their “specialness”.  When I arrived at the school, I was told, “Oh sorry. You have that group. Good luck.” There was something in the water the year those children’s parents got together and it’s quite possible that “thing” was alcohol. (I’m not accusing anyone but seriously ladies: put down the wine glass until after your kid is born. There’s plenty of time to drink once they’re teenagers. And trust me, you’re going to need it then.)

Anyway, that year was a hard one for me and, no doubt, for Marshall. As I said, he was odd and he didn’t have a lot of (read: any) friends. This didn’t seem to bother him though, as he spent all of his time reading. He read in language arts class, math class, science class, lunch…you get my drift. And whenever I tried to get him back on track, he would just sigh and say in his robot voice, “I’d rather not.”

Of course it was my job to push the issue, so everyday, he and I would meet to re-do the math lesson from the morning – this time, one-on-one.

“So, today we’re looking at long division, Marshall,” I flip the textbook open to the section we just covered in class while Marshall was reading about aliens.

“You smell like fruit,” he said.

“Oh,” I reply. “Um…thank you?”

“You smell like oranges.”

“Oh.”

Pause

“Do you like oranges?”

“Not particularly. But you smell like them.”

“OK-dokey then.”

Another day.

“Today we’re working on double-digit multiplication, Marshall. Do you remember what we talked about in class?”

“Are you familiar with anal probing?” he stares at me with a serious look. He’s not trying to mess with me…he’s really just curious.

“Uh, yes, I’ve heard of it. But we really need to focus on math right now,” I say, trying to divert the conversation.

“Aliens use these probes to find out information about the human race,” he says. “It’s quite a popular method of information gathering among aliens.”

“Alrighty then.”

Another day.

“So, Marshall.  Today we need to find the area of this square. Do you remember how we figure out how to do that?”

“Area equals length times width,” he intones right away.

“Yes!”

I can’t believe it. He’s on track. He was listening today! I am making a difference. I am such a good teacher.

“So, can you show me how to find the answer to this question?”

“Of course,” he says.

He puts his head down, writes down the formula, fills in the blanks and comes up with the correct answer.

“Excellent,” I crow. “You did it! You are one smart cookie, Marshall. What do you think about that?”

“You smell like the soap from my campground.”