One Step at a Time

In the spring, I asked GK, a student I often call one of my favorite knuckleheads, to step outside the class and chat with me. He had just entered so he thought something was amiss. I assured him it was okay, and we stepped into the hallway, where I began with, “You know, you’re a really smart kid—“ and then several things happened at once. His eyes got wide, he said, “Nah, nah, nah,” grinned sheepishly and reached to pull the classroom door closed.

Really?

But such is the way of GK, then a junior who, depending on the day, would either go to great lengths to purport gang affiliation, arrive on time for first period, arrive stoned and on time for second period, stay after school and work diligently, or be a complete pain in the neck. After a college visit a few months before our hallway chat, he practically ran away after confessing he was interested in possibly getting his bachelors and masters all in one shot. Then, at the end of year barbeque in June, he couldn’t stop grinning from beneath the Party City crown that came with a PTA award for the student who showed significant progress. He told me then he understood that we (for there are many who adore this knucklehead) see him and are stumping for his success, and even said he’d accept daily harassment I promised to give him all throughout next school year, because graduation is a thing.

And then he went to summer school and somehow didn’t pick up enough credits to put him in the running for the 44 he’d need to graduate next June. Upon hearing this, I lost all sense of warm and fuzzy. Heaven help that child when I see him the week after next. Seriously.

GK, like many kids, is a gem in the making. For that reason, part of me wants to volunteer to work with him in an independent study arrangement and push him to June graduation, but yet another wants to just thrash him. No matter how many years I do this, I doubt I’ll ever be able to will a student to want their next step, and this youngster is no different. GK will find his way, likely making more than a few more unnecessary detours, but perhaps that’s the path that will resonate most with him. So maybe unnecessary is subjective; after all, what good is college entry for a student who isn’t ready? Should I pick a seat farther back in his cheering section? Should I leave for a while? What if silence speaks most clearly to him?

In deference to GK’s long-term goals, I will continue to mull these questions and adjust my thinking as needed. In terms of short-term goals, I’m prepping a mighty earful for him. Whether he is ready or not for that remains to be seen. 

 #graduation #education #highschool  #academicprogress  

The Art of Plate Spinning

If only I could rock it like she can.

Had a pretty epic meeting the other day with last year’s UFT chapter leader, a thoughtful man who told me, among other things, that chapter leaders who are on their game essentially have a co-teaching relationship with the principal and all the staff are students. He also gave me a sense of how the role calls on skills and qualities from many a reserve. As union rep, he was the “absolute voice of the staff,” who came fretting about healthcare options, maternity leave, pay schedules, compensation fairness, programming schedules, room/teaching assignments and more, sometimes even while he was teaching. His attentions necessarily shifted from the myriad concerns streaming through his classroom to the veritable ocean powering through the school.

From what I gathered, being a union rep was parts strategy, reticence, negotiation, diplomacy, and good old common sense. Furthermore, his term as teacher-rep was set against a backdrop of shifting sentiment about administration’s commitment to good will as a basic environmental need. Add to that or two all-staff emails, a pinch of closed door conversations and a dash of awkward staff meetings, and the uncertainty rose like the most leavened of pastries.

Then my colleague the union rep--who I appreciate as a professional, creative being, teacher and certainly the union rep—decided he would rep no more. Though the year was a good one overall and he had many positive things to say of the experience, he has plans that will make union repping difficult moving forward. Enter more than one staff member telling I must be next year’s rep because of what the times call for, admin will listen to me, and on and on. Besides that, not a single other human was in the offing (which tempered the force of the aforementioned insistences, but anyway).

I’ve read that plate juggling can yield impressive results when done strategically. All I can hope for is the wisdom to know which will gain their own momentum and which need tabling for another time. I guess I’ll find out soon enough.

#education  #UFT  #chapter leader  #nyteachersunion

A is for Anticipation

Been working on curriculum for a freshman seminar to be implemented for the first time in September. Our goal is to help students understand whys and wherefores of high school and why it all matters. The plans we're following stem from the tumult of last year's freshmen, who took the school like Sandy did Staten Island.

Funny thing is that this time last year I also worked on curriculum designed for students we would soon discover to be distinctly uninterested in remediating math skills, especially not at the end of the day and for reasons they did not want to be reminded. I've tried not to let the crash-and-burn nature of those romantical plans influence the here and now, but it's hard. Fool me twice and all that.

Nonetheless, here we are, cautiously infatuated (also amnesiac?) and prepped with self-discovery, action-planning and interpersonal exercises just three weeks from lift-off. At this juncture, I can only dare guess what this year's young charges will bring in the door.

On top of that, I got my class schedule the other day.  Not only am I slated to teach this Great Experiment, but two of my other three classes will be freshmen-filled. It will be all about the newbies till November, which is usually how long it takes for them to begin some semblance of acclimation to high school life. And then there were only 22 days left to summer.

May the odds be ever in my favor.