Miss Bennett in the Bay

Well, I did it. I survived two years as a Teach for America corps member. I still have not quite gotten used to the fact that I am now a TFA alumna.

I probably don’t have closure yet because I’m not finished moving out of my classroom. Yesterday we drove Jess’s stuff up to Oakland, today we are moving Rebecca’s stuff to downtown San Jose, and tomorrow it will be my turn to move stuff to downtown San Jose. (At least the drives to downtown are significantly less painful than the drive to the East Bay.)

Did I mention that I hate moving?

I mean, seriously. We’ve all seen Star Trek. Shouldn’t we have this “beam me up” technology by now? It feels like the moving process is never over. Each individual piece of it is absolutely exhausting, and yet you have to simply power through it or risk not getting it done. First, the agonizing days of organizing and packing. I spent so much time getting my classroom organized this year and I don’t want to have to do that again in my new room. So, I spent way longer than I needed to packing and trying to organize things into boxes by their subject area. Halfway through this venture, I second-guessed myself and wondered if I should have organized them by where I kept them in my room, namely, in cabinets or on shelves. As I contemplated this, my iPod died. This shook me out of my reverie and made me say “forget this” to the whole thing. At that point, I just put things in boxes. Half of it is organized, half of it isn’t. Oh, well.

After that agony, then there’s the agony of fitting boxes into cars. No, I am not renting a U-Haul to move my classroom across the city. I can’t justify that kind of expenditure when a) I’ve only been teaching for two years and I don’t have that much stuff and b) I have two wonderful friends who are willing to donate their cars to the cause. But still, in case you didn’t know, boxes don’t pack well into cars. And I’m not one of those visuo-spatial type people who can just see where things will fit. I have to shove things until it works.

Then, just when you think you can’t stand it any longer, you then have to drive your car, which is so stuffed to the gills you practically can’t see out of it, across the city (or the region, in Jess’s case) and do the whole thing over again in reverse. I’m honestly glad I can’t unpack anything until August. Just thinking about all of this exhausts me. At least after tomorrow it will be completely over and then I will definitely feel like I am finished with TFA. Then, I can sit down and synthesize all I’ve learned in my brain. For now, I’m heading to school yet again to finish this project.

We are in the final stretch. For all intents and purposes, school is already over; I just have to keep my students occupied for the next 5 days.

Coming into the final stretch, my students were this close to meeting the Big Goal. We only had a few standards that they hadn’t quite mastered yet, so I created this intense re-teach and re-take schedule to get them where they needed to be. Every time the class average moved above 80% for a standard, I would change the yellow or red sticker on our class tracking chart to a green. Every time, we would applaud our hard work and our ability to grow our brains.

And every time, the applause got a little bit rowdier. As the students could see their progress, their excitement at reaching the Big Goal grew. (Some of them were motivated by the fact they had learned a lot; others were motivated by the pizza party I promised them. Either way works for me.)

Finally, on Friday, we only had one more yellow sticker to change to green. My students were exhausted; we had been pushing ourselves harder than we ever had all year. An incredible thing happened: whenever a student even looked like they were going to give up, another student would jump in to motivate them. “We’re so close to our Big Goal! You can do it!” The struggling student would take a deep breath and dive in again.

Before the last quiz re-take (over multiple meaning words, in case anyone is interested), I gave my students one last motivational speech.

This is it, guys. Our last goal quiz in second grade. I know we’re tired. I know we want school to be over. But don’t give up now. We are so close to our Big Goal! You all have grown so much this year and made such incredible progress. I will not let you go to third grade without meeting this Goal! So, who’s going to pass this quiz?

They worked so hard. And they passed the quiz, of course. So, final data: overall math average: 87%! Overall language arts average: 89%! Class average reading growth: 1.5 years! (Some students grew 2.5 years in reading! Wow!)

As I got the class’s attention to change the last yellow sticker to green, I had such a swell of pride that I was almost overcome. My students got so excited that they started cheering and dancing. Then, spontaneously, they all ran to me and gave me a huge group hug. We were all giddy with excitement. It took us several minutes to calm down, but that’s ok. Meeting a Big Goal like ours warrants such a celebration. I will never forget that moment.

Does anybody else out there ever randomly get hit with a terrible case of homesickness? It’s funny how it can sneak up on you sometimes.

Like one time, last year, I was driving home on the 101 North and feeling fine after a decent Friday workday. I was kind of on autopilot, like normal since I have a reverse commute and there isn’t much traffic. All of a sudden, I realized there were palm trees next to the highway. It totally freaked me out and for the entire weekend I was left with this awful feeling that I was in the totally wrong place and I needed to get back to my wonderful Colorado foothills home.

Normally, I appreciate those palm trees. But that day, I wanted a Colorado Blue Spruce instead.

My most recent bout of nostalgia for my ancestral homeland came yesterday morning during my normal get-ready-for-work routine. I always eat my bowl of cereal in front of the computer at 6:30 in the morning. I check my emails, troll my usual blogs, and read Google News. This is my little way of jump-starting my mind in peace. (I’m not really a morning person- my first alarm goes off at 5:15 and I don’t usually leave my apartment until around 7 because it takes me that long to get up and get ready.)

Anyway, in my inbox, I had an alumni e-newsletter from my alma matter. I usually just skim through these things- I enjoy seeing what’s going on with my old university, but I don’t really have time to read carefully. For some reason, yesterday I decided to actually read the full thing. This edition was about the recent class of 2009 graduation, complete with pictures and outstanding student bios. Well, naturally I started thinking about my own graduation two years ago (it feels more like a lifetime) and all of a sudden, I realized I had tears rolling down my cheeks. I wanted to go home. I wanted to be able to hike the Boulder Flatirons again, breathe the clean mountain air, and give my mom and dad a hug. I really didn’t want to drive over to east San Jose and see the gross, ugly, dead hills they call “mountains” here. I was tired of the smell of the bay, tired of the morning fog, tired of having the same kind of weather all year round.

Man, was it ever hard to pull myself out of that funk. The only thing that uplifted my spirits yesterday was a spontaneous act of kindness from my students. Yesterday afternoon we did a project where we made our own imprint fossils with clay. Naturally, the clay got all over their desks, but I had accepted that fact and was prepared to clean them off myself after school. As I’m wrangling the students into finishing the projects and getting ready to go home, D comes up to me.

D: Ms. Bennett, would you like me to clean off the desks for you so that you won’t have to do it by yourself after school?
Me (in my head): Wha….?
Me (out loud): Yes! Here, use these wipes.

Soon, all of my students who had already finished their projects were pitching in to clean up the mess. The desks were sparkling by the time they were done. It brought a tear to my eye to see them working together so respectfully- maybe I have made an impact on them, after all. That makes all the homesickness in the world worth it.

Man, if every month was like the month of May, I would be a teacher forever.

No, seriously. This month is the best month I’ve had so far as a corps member. I like to think that this is more than just situational- that I personally have something to do with it. First, let’s examine the situational reasons why May rocks:

1. The CST is OVER! No more stressing, test-prepping, and worrying. Now, my teaching is just about my students and what they still need to learn.

2. The students are older, more mature, and more self-sufficient. At the beginning of second grade, it feels like the kids can’t do anything. Now, they work together independently for (gasp!) 30 to 45 minutes at a time!

3. 4 weeks of school left. No explanation needed.

Now, certainly, these situational things are great. Anybody can understand why you would feel better during the last weeks of school.

BUT last year at this time was not such a piece of cake. What has made this year different?

1. During the year, I actually taught my students things in a way they could master them. Now I don’t have to spend the last weeks of school killing myself to meet the Big Goal. (Certainly some re-teach is necessary, but my students have already met the goal this year. Last year we were at about a 71% going into the last month of school, whereas this year we’re at an 82%.)

2. MY CLASSROOM IS ACTUALLY ORGANIZED! I cannot emphasize enough how awesome this is! I have been reading The Cornerstone and it has completely revolutionized my mindset and approach to my classroom. I can actually see my desk! Like, all the time, not after I’ve spent 3 hours cleaning it off on a Friday night. (Side note: if you have papers all over your desk, frequently lose important things, and don’t know where things are, you need to read this book. Just do it.)

3. In that same vein, I have been reading a lot of professional development type books and thinking a lot about myself as a professional. I started with What Great Teachers Do Differently and it, too, has changed my mindset and approach to my job. I go to work feeling positive and excited to be there. It certainly makes the job better.

My only regret about my time in Teach for America is that I was unable to approach every day like I am now. I have grown so much. I doubt that if I were to meet my pre-TFA self I would even know what to say to her. That former person just didn’t have the energy to be the person I am now. Certainly there is no point in beating myself up about this; I could not have done any more than I did.

So, in looking forward, I know I can better impact my students next year based on what I have learned in the two previous years. In addition, I want to continue building Teach for America’s mission. That’s why I’ve applied to be a Collaboration Team Leader with the Bay Area staff next year. This person leads a small group of corps members once a month to help them develop as professionals. This job sounds awesome to me- I hope I can have this opportunity! I won’t know for a few weeks whether this is in the cards for me. Even if it’s not, I am making it a personal goal of mine to learn as much as I can and lead as much as I can in the next few years. I really feel like this is what I’m meant to do- and as we used to say in college, go big or go home!

There are exactly 25 more days of school.

The CST is over. The days are warmer. And the children are going completely crazy.

Case in point: on Tuesday we were out with our Sports 4 Kids coach for an extended play as a reward for finishing the test. Jess and I brought our classes out together (since the break was as much for us as it was for the kids) and we were enjoying having a little relaxation time. Suddenly, a group of about 8 of my girls came up to us surrounding this small child, who appeared to be about two. Jess and I exchange skeptical glances.

My students: Ms. Bennett, we found a pre-schooler!
Me: What?
Jess: Where?
My students: On the playground!

We turn towards the building, where the pre-school teacher is just taking her students in from their afternoon recess. She shakes her head and shrugs; this random little girl does not belong to her.

My students: Let’s play with her!
Jess: Girls, stop surrounding her!
Me: I guess we should take her to the office…
Jess: Where is your mom?
Little girl: My mom is at work.
Jess: Well who are you with?
Little girl: I can’t remember.
Me (in my head): Oh, here we go.
Me (out loud): Well, come to the office with us.

We finally manage to break her from the grasp of my students (who I think were disappointed that they didn’t get to have a real-life baby doll to play with) and walk towards the office. Thankfully, her dad was there and the little girl had just managed to slip from his sight.

I’ll tell you one thing about this job. It’s never boring, that’s for sure.

Well, it was a pretty crazy week in Ms. Bennett’s life. Scott and I flew to Colorado for spring break, where it blizzarded and snowed a foot in Denver. Then, we came back to San Jose to 94 degrees and a broken air conditioner.

Oh, and no air conditioning in the classroom, either. But what else is new? (A side note: isn’t it cruel and unusual punishment to subject teachers and students to each other when it’s that hot? Seriously. At least put in a window AC unit or a swamp cooler or something to combat 22 sweaty bodies in a classroom.)

The best part about my spring break? Choosing a wedding venue and date! On July 9, 2010, Scott and I will get married at Stonebrook Manor in Thornton, CO. It’s got beautiful lush gardens for the ceremony and an elegant ballroom for the reception. Excited? You could say that- there are 445 days left until the wedding!

Oh, yeah, and teaching is great, too. But a whole week that was just about me was pretty amazing. Sometimes, it’s nice to be called by your first name.

One of the biggest criticisms of Teach for America corps members is that they “aren’t dedicated enough.” They cut-and-run after only two years of service, leaving their school worse off than before. They couldn’t possibly make a lasting impact in that amount of time, so why would we want to have them around?

I am sure I am going to catch some flak for this as I prepare to leave my placement school to… what? Oh, that’s right, continue teaching.

I have been given an opportunity to work at a supportive school which will help me rapidly develop as an educator and possibly put me on a track to school leadership. I’m ready for the challenge of working in a school that actually has high expectations for both teachers and students, and actually helps teachers and students meet those expectations. I’m ready to feel valued as a professional. I’m ready to make an impact in educational reform.

And so, I have to ask, why wouldn’t I want these things? I graduated from college with highest honors. I was the president of my honors fraternity. And as an educator, I have made significant academic gains with my students.

So, why on Earth would I ever want to stay in a place that simply wants me to uphold the status quo? As I’ve been talking with friends and family about my decision, one person said to me, “They hired you to teach, not to lead.” This sentence has stuck with me as the main reason in making this decision. It’s not in my blood to simply do my own job, let everybody else do theirs, and watch nothing change. I’m a leader, and I can’t give that part of myself up. To keep my sanity, I need to be in a place that will nurture that part of me. Right now, that’s not where I am. Not that I haven’t tried to take leadership roles at my placement school; it’s just that every time a task gets “delegated” to me by my principal, she ends up just doing it herself anyway, without any communication.

Furthermore, I’m not willing to spend the next 10 years of my life killing myself fighting mediocrity. Every day, I know I make an impact in my own classroom, but beyond that door, I see nothing change. The district is too big, overwhelmed, and powerful to respond to one teacher. As I see it now, it would literally take an entire cohort of teachers who agree on what the changes should be working in tandem for years and years to flood the district office with a new staff. The sheer enormity of that task makes it nearly impossible. Not to mention that the people in power over there wouldn’t give up without a fight.

On the other hand, the charter school where I will be working is already quite successful, after only 2 years, teaching the exact same population that I currently teach. The difference is not the students nor the families at this school (which is a silly argument I hear a lot.) The difference is in philosophy of education, and that is what effects educational reform.

So I guess the question of dedication depends on your point of view. If you’re my principal, or somebody working at the district office, you probably will think I’m not a dedicated teacher because I’m not willing to accept that education has to be this way. But I think if you step back and really look at the bigger picture, you might see the situation differently.

Yesterday, I gave my students individual graphs that show their growth so far this year in reading. (Our class average growth so far this year is .94 years!) Most of my students have made pretty remarkable progress so far, but one student, G, has made literally no growth.

When I say no growth, I mean it. She started the year reading on a kindergarten level, has been in my intervention class since October, has had individual tutoring, and now, in March, is still reading on the same kindergarten level she was at the beginning of the year. This raises issues of its own, of course, and I’m doing what I can on an administrative level to make sure G gets the help she needs.

But this doesn’t change the fact that she is functionally illiterate in my classroom, and on days like yesterday, when other students are celebrating their growth, her lack of progress smacks her in the face. I’m not really sure how I could have handled this situation differently. One of the problems of transparent tracking is that the kids who aren’t where they need to be just feel bad about themselves. Despite me trying to make it as positive as possible- “If you haven’t made the growth you wanted to make, it’s ok. We will continue to work really hard to make sure you meet your Big Goal-” kids still know that they didn’t do a good job.

So, when G saw her graph and saw it only had a little tiny sliver colored in, she covered it up as she put her head down on her desk and began to cry. This, of course, attracted a lot of attention, and one of my students even tried to force G to give her the graph so she could see what the problem was. I then had to take what should have been a very positive, celebratory moment in my classroom and turn it into a negative conversation about how we should be empathetic to others and how we should never, ever make fun of anyone else for any reason. G continued to sob. I got the rest of my students out the door for recess, most of whom actually felt pretty bad for G.

I had G come talk to me in the back of the room. She was still sobbing uncontrollably. She was upset because her dad was going to be disappointed in her because he always tells her to read more. She clearly didn’t know what to do about the fact that she still doesn’t know how to read.

To tell the truth, neither do I. I’ve poured my heart and soul into this effort, and gotten no return whatsoever. Other students who started out at the same level as G have made incredible growth, or at least have grown to a point where they can more or less read on their own. It’s heartbreaking to see other kids responding to my instructional methods and have G just stagnate. Clearly, something is missing.

Anyway, I calmed G down the best I could, told her we would do everything we could to make sure she learned how to read. Seeing her that upset almost made me start crying, too. She spent the rest of recess sobbing at her desk. This moment was definitely the worst moment I have had in my classroom this year.

During lunch, G’s mom came to eat with her, so I got my principal to translate for me and explain to G’s mother what had happened. G’s mother didn’t seem to have much of a reaction, which is pretty typical for her. This time, though, she started to argue with us a bit.

Mom: I don’t understand. I see her reading at home all the time.
Me: That’s because we give her books to read that are at her level. The books she’s reading are on a kindergarten level.
Mom: Oh.

At least we will be having an SST meeting for G at the end of this month. Hopefully then we can start to move forward and figure out how to teach G how to read.

Because of this whole incident, yesterday was a pretty soul-crushing day for me in general. Lots of bickering between my students, a feeling of exhaustion from me, and the lack of support I feel has really got me down. Lots of people from my school administration and TFA are always saying a general thank you for working so hard. When I say general, I mean something like, “Thank you to all teachers for the hard work you do.” While I appreciate the fact that they recognize that we are working our butts off, I do wish that once in a while somebody would tell me that I was actually doing a good job. There’s a big difference between working hard and being effective, which I know all too well from last year. Other teachers that I know in TFA and at my school are being individually recognized for this, that, and the other, while I’m still plugging along, doing my thing. It’s starting to give me a confidence crisis. I’m not saying that I would like somebody to jump up and down for me just because I’m alive. But once in a while, it would be really nice to hear that somebody knows that I’m doing well. That’s all.

This Saturday, we had the Bay Area Spring Conference, which is pretty much the last official TFA thing I will do as a corps member (with the exception of our Alumni Sendoff in the spring.)

My first thought when I walked in the door? Damn, there are a lot of ‘08 corps members.

Their corps doubled the size of ours. Makes it difficult when walking into a TFA event and I can count on one hand the number of faces I recognize.

Oh well, the conference itself was very helpful. I went to a session given by Kilian Betlach on teaching with the brain in mind. It was about giving appropriate brain breaks, reducing fear, and managing a psychologically healthy classroom. I loved it. I tried some of the strategies out today and I noticed a huge difference in my kids. Awesome.

The most inspiring part of the whole day? When Kilian said (something I’ve heard before, but forgotten), “To close the achievement gap, we must erase the gap between the teachers we are, and the teachers our students need us to be.”

Powerful stuff.

The Spring Conference is also a time for second-year corps members to think for real about what they will do next year. I have accepted a job at a charter school in downtown San Jose. I will be teaching second grade math for next year, at least. Yes, I will be teaching only math. Part of this charter school’s model is giving teachers the freedom to focus on only one subject area, so you can be better at teaching it. I am super excited. Math is my favorite subject to teach, and I can’t wait to make all 80 of my students next year frikin awesome at it.

I haven’t posted in a little while because, honestly, I didn’t feel I had much to post about. I’ve been very bogged down in the daily grind of the mid-second semester. I have been spending some time figuring out what I’m going to do next year, but until I get all my loose ends tied up, I don’t feel it’s appropriate to write about it here.

The month of March is almost as bad as the month of October in terms of burnout and dissatisfaction rates. This is the time when all administrators start to see the noose tightening around their necks as we head into the final stretch before the CST. So, what happens? As a teacher, I have to sit through endless meetings on how to prepare students for the test. I always wonder during these things why the people running them think that waiting until now was a good idea. Shouldn’t we have been having these conversations in January? Shouldn’t we have been laying out preparedness plans in September? No, waiting until March is clearly the solution to the achievement gap problem. It doesn’t matter that the students are still reading below grade level; cramming test prep down their throats for 5 weeks will get them to proficiency.

Riiiiight.

No matter. For myself, I’m focusing on what’s actually important for my students. I’m not saying I don’t want them to do well on the test; I certainly do. But I also need to be realistic. Looking at my reading growth data says a lot- even after almost a year of growth so far, my average grade level equivalence is a 2.3. That means second grade, third month. My students will take the CST in second grade, eighth month. That five-month discrepancy is huge when one considers the fact that the test will be at an end of second grade reading level. The students who are just now getting to second grade level will really struggle with that reading because it will be just above their level, and though they might be able to decode all of the words, they won’t have the deep understanding of the reading necessary to pass the test.

So, I’m doing what I can. I’m focusing on prepping them on standards I know they can show proficiency on, and the rest of the time focusing on my reading growth. I’ve said before that my Big Goal is not a score on a test, but instead preparedness for third grade. Even that will be a challenge, but I feel I have more control over that goal than over the CST.