Is diagnosing teacher burnout like determining recession?

Two Christmas vacations from now, will I be on a long-awaited, child-free vacation with my husband, drunk on daquiris, and realize that I've been living burnout for most of the last decade?

Supporting Detail One: I've been misspelling simple things. As an English teacher, and an often-maligned city teacher, I'm always very mindful of using language correctly. And I'm a good speller by nature, so when I make these errors I know that I'm in need of serious rest. The test prep books that were chosen (by someone else who doesn't even use them, of course) really suck, so I printed all the old ELA exams for my grade from the state website. I'm using them for practice and assessment, and after I labeled one of the sections I realized that I'd written "ASSMENT" instead of "ASSESSMENT." Though I can't say for sure if I can attribute that error to tiredness or if it reflected my real feelings about testing.

Supporting Detail Two: During seventh period today, the only day and time of the week that I believe in Satan, I found myself wondering, If I fall out the window "accidentally" is that considered an on-the-job injury?

Supporting Detail Three: Now that I've been able to log on to Acuity, I actually find it useful. This is the weakest example of the three, because I still have lots of valid reason to bitch about Acuity.

TGIF.

A Post, Just For The Hell Of It

My new reward system went into effect today. It worked better with my morning class than my afternoon class, but that's typical. Teaching in the afternoon is nearly impossible.

I had fewer late students this morning, which was also a positive, but it's also occured to me that it's ridiculous that I have to jump through all these hoops to get the kids to do the things that they are supposed to do.

I've been a good little soldier and have been attempting to use more data. Of course, it took me about three weeks to be able to log on to Acuity. No one could figure out why, but then I realized that my old DOE e-mail account is somehow lost in cyberspace, replaced with a newer one I had no idea about with both my maiden and married names. In the meantime, I still haven't been able to log on to ARIS.

I suppose that the millions the Tweedians coughed up for these programs wasn't enough.

More importantly, I wish I knew when I was supposed to have time to look at all this data. While I don't think it's the be-all, end-all that the brainwashed educrats think it is, I do think it can be useful. But we get no time to look at it, or think about what it says, other than the fact that Johnny can't read because he doesn't come to school have the time and does nothing when he's there.

Each week I'm tempted to boycott our weekly common conferences. It's wasted time, really. There hasn't been a concrete agenda in weeks. And the programs were done in such a way that not all the teachers on a grade are at the meetings, because many of them are teaching. Last year, as difficult as it was, I found solace in the other teachers on my team. We all taught the same kids, and while a focus on instruction would have been more beneficial, at least we were able to discuss the kids who were challenging us the most and come up with ideas and solutions. We were truly a team. I don't have that this year, even though I am fortunate to have a great working relationship with the math teacher for the grade. We're a team of two, at least.

Otherwise, I feel like I am totally on my own. The curriculum guidance is non-existent, and we're always being hammered on using the data and using technology without any real conversations about how to implement these things.

Today I started my full-blown, hard-core test prep. It bores the shit out of me, but at least I don't have to think quite so much. So maybe this month I will be able to figure out ARIS. If, of course, I'm able to log on.

Alarming Information

We had parent-teacher conferences last week. (Did I mention this already? The weekend has not been nearly as restorative as it should be.)

So. One of the things I want to tackle with my new system is lateness. It's a huge problem, and nothing that I did helped. A few of the kids are working on twenty latenesses for the year. Nothing is being done at the administrative level either. Lunch detention didn't make a difference; it just meant that the kids were late AND bitching and moaning about how unfair I am.

Even though I'd spoken to parents over the phone, I made a point to emphasize the issue during conferences, and I was stunned at the number of parents who explained that their kids were late because they, the parents, didn’t always get them up in time. On Friday, one chronically late student was later than usual with a note from his mother, explaining that she overslept, and was unable to get him up. Keep in mind that I teach sixth graders, and many of them are responsible for walking younger siblings to and from school. They have their own apartment and house keys. Hell, I didn't have a house key all through high school, something that still makes me the object of ridicule among some of my friends. But my mother no longer woke me up when I was in sixth grade; I was on my own.

So, these children who have iPods and cell phones that are more sophisticated than mine don’t own that other very high-tech gadget, the alarm clock.

The Year So Far

I was so excited to teach sixth grade this year. My last group of sixth graders was wonderful; granted, they devolved into snotty, entitled, hormone-charged brats by eighth grade, but when they were sixth graders, I loved them. Generally, I like the age group and I developed several units that they found engaging, units I'd tweak, improve and reuse.

So at this point, with about a quarter of the year finished, I’d say that I’m disappointed. While I do have a tendency to look back with rose-colored glasses, I don’t think I’ve ever been this continually frustrated with my students. Overall, their behavior is not good; calls to parents and lunch detention haven’t helped. They don’t listen at all. I have lost track of the number of times that I’ve asked them to do something simple, like take out materials, hang up jackets, go back to their seat. They look at me and continue doing whatever they were doing and I have to ask at least once more.

Of course some of the kids are wonderful, hard-working and well-behaved. But there are more who don’t fit into that category. As for the parents, they seem to fall into two extremes: helpful or not. I’ve been using an online grading program this year, and it’s been a life-saver. There’s a component for parent access, so I was able to get several e-mail addresses so that I can send them grades and behavior logs. I’m more optimistic about those parents, but then there are parents who know that their kids are struggling, either with behavior or work, and they don’t want to get involved.

I need to do something. A few weeks ago my husband mentioned an article in the New York Times sports section about Craig Robinson, Michelle Obama’s brother, who is a college basketball coach. The article mentioned Robinson’s policy of punishing late players by making the whole team run sprints. He said that they were all punished to remind them that they were accountable to each other.

It got me thinking about accountability, and these kids, and how they’re really not accountable to the system. Their parents aren’t either. Teachers are the only ones who really get the heat when the scores are bad. And that’s a problem for a lot of reasons. Granted, the kids get bad grades, but most of them don’t seem bothered by them. They know they will go to summer school and get passed on to the next grade, especially the kids who are already multiple holdovers.

I thought about making the whole class do lunch detention the next time a few kids were bad. Then a light bulb went off in my head, reminding me of how pissed I get when my school implements things on the fly, and in a half-assed way. So for the past few weeks I’ve been thinking about how I can make these kids accountable to each other.

I think I’ve hammered out a decent plan. It still needs tweaking, and I won’t bore anyone with details, but I have hope. Instead of the whole class, the kids will be in small groups of four or five kids, and they will be accountable to their group for work, behavior and punctuality. They’ll get points for doing what they’re supposed to do. I know that I’ll have to build in some lessons about teamwork and what to do about the kids who absolutely won’t come on board. They will all be working towards a point goal instead of competing against each other. I’m aiming this more at those middle kids, the ones who aren’t doing terribly but aren’t working to their full potential. So far this year I haven’t taken any trips, because the kids just haven’t deserved them, but trips will be the monthly reward.

Once the ELA is over I think I will also enjoy myself more. I’m about to cast everything aside and do nothing but test prep until the test. I don’t feel great about it, and it will bore the shit out of all of us, but I feel backed into a corner. It’s pretty clear that test scores are the only thing that matter. Thank goodness that at least a few of my kids really do have genuine curiosity and a desire to learn. I’m sure as hell not cultivating it. By my standards, I’m not doing the job I want, but if the kids pass the test, at least the Tweedians will be happy with my performance.

How to piss off a loyal fan...

I became a fan of Morning Joe on MSNBC back when I was on maternity leave. Since we had today off, and Beany got up before the sun, I was able to see the show. There was a clip with DC Mayor Adrian Fenty talking about school reform, and afterwards all the hosts engaged in a little teacher-union bashing. Inherent in that, of course, is teacher-bashing. Finding myself super-pissed, I devoted some of today to writing this response, neglecting the pile of dirty laundry that probably rivals Sarah Palin's entire RNC-funded haul.

I wish, before you and your co-hosts launched into your diatribe about evil teachers’ unions, that you’d done a little more research, and maybe you could have talked to a real teacher or two. For brevity’s sake, I can only scratch the surface of my experiences and thoughts, but I know that there are many educators who would agree with me.

I am a veteran New York City teacher who has worked in the South Bronx since 1996. While admittedly I only caught a snippet of your interview with DC Mayor Adrian Fenty, I am well versed in the reforms that Chancellor Michelle Rhee is attempting to implement in that city’s schools. The regime of Mayor Michael Bloomberg and Chancellor Joel Klein has been attempting to make similar reforms, with mixed results (but don’t tell them; they are masters at spinning numbers to make it look like our kids are doing better than they really are.)

The public (and journalists and politicians) love to point fingers at unions, at teachers, to explain the abysmal performance of our schools. Unfortunately, blame and accusations take up time and energy that could be better invested in our kids. The reality is that the blame is on all of us: teachers, administrators, parents, even the students themselves. Unions protect bad teachers; there’s no doubt about that. But in my experience, most of us work very hard every day under challenging conditions. It’s hard, but not impossible, to remove bad teachers. Our teacher’s union has a little-used plan that works with teachers who need to be out of the profession, helping transition them to other careers. Unfortunately, principals rarely follow through on the process, though to be fair, they are overworked too.

Teacher unions are not evil. There have been a few years when I have had 36 and 37 kids in a class; during my first year, I had 40 bilingual students, no materials and no qualifications to teach bilingual kids. The UFT is constantly fighting to lower class size, as smaller classes are proven to be a factor in success. I can’t say I had the kind of success I wanted when my students and I were crammed into the room like sardines, with kids sharing books.

Since Joel Klein became Chancellor, we are constantly judged on test scores, which is unfair. I am an English Language Arts teacher. The test my students will take in January will be given over two days. These two days will inform the media, the parents, the kids, the administrators, if I am doing a good job or not. Ironic, isn’t it, that I’m not the one taking the test? Yet in the past I have had to answer for less-than-stellar scores while kids and parents have not. On any given day, I have about 10% of my students late or absent. I have several children who come to school without pens and pencils. This year I have eight sixth graders who are reading two to three years below grade level. Though I will do the best I can, the reality is that I can’t get them to make years of progress in a few months.

At some point, the parents and the students themselves have to step up. My school of almost 500 students has an average of ten parents at every PTA meeting and half of those attending are the organization’s officers. At our twice-yearly parent conferences, I see fewer than half of my students’ parents. The parents who I really need to see the most are often the least likely to show up.

Teachers in NYC and DC are under attack from politicians who are bent on reform at any cost. Unfortunately, in NYC, Chancellor Klein and Mayor Bloomberg chose to implement their reforms against teachers, instead of for children. Children should come first, but teachers are the key to making that happen, and our input was completely cast aside. And when I say input, I don’t mean more time for coffee breaks; I’m referring to input on curriculum and instruction, on assessment, on behavior management. Expectations are high for us to raise scores, but support is nearly non-existent. Many administrators are so intent on keeping their jobs that they resort to threatening and bullying staff and students. Obviously, respect for us is at an all-time low; I don’t even have the right to park my car in front of my school anymore, so some of the time I used to use for planning is now spent driving around, looking for a space.

Since Joel Klein became Chancellor, we have been working a longer day and longer year, something we agreed to in our contract. And while we got more money, most of us don’t consider more money for more time to be a raise.

Every group has its bad apples. There are teachers in classrooms that don’t belong there. However, the constant attacks upon those of us who try to do our best do not serve to motivate us. This is something that Mayor Bloomberg and Chancellor Klein have not figured out either. And the unions, with their power, seem to have lost sight of their true purpose: to fight for teachers so we can make things better for kids.

A week ago today I voted for Barack Obama with pride and excitement that I have never experienced. I hope that he includes real teachers in these crucial conversations that we need to have. I hope, in the future, that you do the same.

Note to Self: C.Y.A.

I want to do a good job, I really do. But it seems like the universe wants to chip away at my motivation until there is nothing left. The year began with promise, smaller classes with kids who were behaved enough so that I could build on that and move on to the real business of teaching. After three weeks, I got several more students, who are, for lack of a better term, unclassified special needs students. I can work with the kids who are academically behind, but the kids who don’t know how to behave are a different story. I have already talked to and met the parents of the most difficult students, and while a couple of them are showing some improvement, the ones I had the most trouble with have not improved at all.

I have two choices: I can continue to invest time, effort, more discipline, whatever I have, into these kids, into trying to get to know them and understand them in the hopes that I will somehow reach them and motivate them. Or I can put the time into carefully documenting all the bad behavior and the lack of work, making sure to give copies of everything to the principal, the assistant principal, the counselors, the parents.

Now that I am going to be rated on my students’ performance on their standardized tests, I am obviously going to chose the second option. There’s no time for actual interest in the problem kids, no time for actual interest in any of the kids. It has been reduced to a numbers game, one I have to play.

The idea of saying to hell with real teaching and plunging full-time into test prep is very, very tempting. It doesn’t matter if the kids learn; it matters that they are able to take tests.

The Story

I don’t know what I prefer: the rudeness that characterized last year’s eighth graders or the immaturity that so far describes the sixth graders. I wish there was a “none of the above” option. So much time is devoted to navigating ridiculousness:

“He took my pen!”
“No I didn’t! She took MY pen!”
“She touched my desk!”
“He touched my desk first!”
“He’s looking at me!”
“No I’m not! She’s mad ugly!”

And so on.

This is the sort of thing I have been dealing with since Day 2, and it came to a head on Friday, which was the most difficult day I’ve had all year. That’s an ominous thought after only nineteen or so days of school (I only know this fact because I had to talk to a student about her attendance, and point out that she’d already been absent for half the school year. She didn’t understand why I thought that was a problem.)

My morning was not terrible, though I was surprised at the number of kids who were absent. We were working on the second draft of a writing activity. I’d collected the first drafts from the kids who’d finished, and told the kids who did not finish in class to finish at home. After I returned the drafts, six kids complained that I hadn’t returned their drafts. I panicked, and went through all my other folders, went through my binder, everything. I didn’t find any additional drafts, and I got pretty upset. Organization is still something I struggle with, but I very seldom lose anything, which is a big reason why I have little motivation to change. I function well within my dysfunction.

The combination of my record of not losing things paired with what I already know about the specific kids who claimed that I had their work made me suspicious. So I sat down with those kids, one at a time (because, you know, I had nothing better to do) and made them go through all their stuff. All the kids but one found the drafts that “I” had. And the one whose work I didn’t find claimed that it was collected by another student, who is not one of my collection monitors. I assume he lost his. Do I need to say that I was furious? I’d felt so guilty about the possibility that I’d lost their work and I spent a lot of time going through all the work I had, and I had to spend a lot of time with each of those kids to find the work that they claimed I had. And of course none of them had made a dent in the assignment.

As frustrating as the morning was, the afternoon was much, much worse. I really don’t know why anyone has to teach on Friday afternoons. It’s so hard to accomplish anything. The time could be spent better on team-building activities or technology projects or…anything else. If I didn’t have a husband and child, I would be willing to allow the students to perform practice lobotomies on me. But that would really only get me through one Friday afternoon; the upside is that afterwards I really wouldn’t give a shit anymore, would I?

The class I have on Friday afternoon is my most talkative, and it also got most of the students from the dissolved class. I got tired of trying to talk over them to explain the activity, so I moved all the quiet kids into one corner, got them started, and went around and gave zeroes to the rest of the students. Once I’d issued the zeroes, they started working. Not the best approach, but I didn’t know what else to do. I refuse to raise my voice; I think less is more.

Naturally, a spat broke out between a boy and a girl, and it got physical. There were no punches thrown, but they were tussling back and forth. My AP walked in as it was happening and was obviously not amused. After the class I called both parents, plus the parents of two other students who are doing no work and causing disruptions. There are many more parents that I need to call, but I think I need to deal with just a couple at a time. It’s hard enough to confer with parents since they often show up when they can, as opposed to when we have preps. So I end up with one foot in the hallway and one foot in the classroom, and it’s not effective. Though I do think I need to bring up to administration that something has to be done about the way we meet with parents. The kids get really antsy when no adult is in the room, even when multiple adults are in earshot. As a result I often wonder what goes through the parents’ heads when they see these other kids and I wonder what they think about my ability and effectiveness.

I am not looking forward to tomorrow, not that this tidbit is surprising. I’ve been looking at websites on character education, and I think tomorrow I am going to backtrack and not do my usual lesson. Instead, I am going to see if I can put together an activity that focuses on respect for fellow students, because I think this is a huge part of my problem. The kids have no respect for each other; they have no respect for themselves, so they are not going to respect me or the learning that needs to happen.

My handbag collection is another parking casualty...

I came to another realization this morning when I was getting out of my car and collecting my daily luggage. I carry a lot of stuff back and forth every day. My tote bag, my purse, my lunch bag. I feel like I should be stronger than I am, lugging around a toddler as much as I do, but I’m puny. And it occurred to me that I am going to have to somehow pare down once I lose my parking pass. The neighborhood I work in is not great. There have been muggings and purse snatchings near the school, and I feel vulnerable walking, weighted down by all my stuff. There are very few non-DOE spots near my school; I’ve been scoping things out every morning. At the moment my ton of daily crap doesn’t worry me because I usually get a decent spot, but if I have to walk a few blocks I need to travel lighter. Most likely I will ditch the purse, which makes me sad because I love to rock a cool handbag, and try to take less work home, which won’t be an issue. I’ll have to arrive at school at 5 am to get parking, so I’ll have plenty of time to do it then.

Request

After three days, I can safely say that I have no real complaints.

I hope that doesn’t change.

Of course, every morning when I get to work I wonder what it’s going to be like to park in a few weeks, and other than my initial quick post, I never really elaborated on my feelings (angry feelings, in case no one picked up on that). To me, the decision just seems so mean-spirited. I really see it as another slap at the veteran teachers, though maybe that's a stretch. I realize that my own experience is limited to the two schools I’ve worked in, but it seems that most of the newer teachers live in the city and use public transit; I am in a school with mostly older teachers who have been in the system a while, and nearly the entire staff drives. When I lived in Queens I usually drove, but I did have to take the bus and subway from time to time. Moving to the suburbs made that nearly impossible.

I just really don’t get why giving us parking passes posed such a problem. The mayor talked about wanting to reduce the carbon footprint, but I think people are going to be spending a lot more time driving around, looking for a space.

What adds to my anger is my trip past Yankee Stadium on the way home, when people are parked all over the medians and sidewalks during home games. I’ve never seen a ticket on a car, and I’ve never seen a traffic agent writing a ticket. In fact, the last time I drove by I saw two agents talking amidst a sea of illegally parked car, not appearing to be in a rush to ticket anyone.

I can’t believe I spent all this time and energy writing about parking.

My bigger, really important concern is about my classes. They are very small. My homeroom has 25 on the roster, though only 21 have shown up. I can’t speak for the number of kids on register in the other two classes I teach, but about 20 have shown up in each class thus far. Because the classes are so small, I've already been able to collect a lot of information on them. I've done a reading assessment on several of them, and I have been able to just watch them while they worked on their baseline pieces, which has provided me with a lot of information. I have a couple kids who scored Level 3 on the ELA in fifth grade, but one of them actually can't write a sentence and the other one can't seem to get more than a couple sentences on his paper, even though he's had lots of time. I have a little girl who rides the school bus (which is unusual for a child who's not in a special education class) and gets resource room services, but she's probably the most attentive and focused child in the class. I have three boys who just tested out of ESL but who write better than most of the kids who are native English speakers. I also have three boys who are three grade levels behind in reading. I am hoping to be able to do reciprocal teaching with them very soon; I have some kids who'd be great teachers and that would free me up to work with those kids who need the help the most. Of course, if I get more kids, that will be more of a challenge.

So I get really optimistic and excited about all the different ideas I have for teaching them, but then I worry that one of those classes will be dissolved and the other two classes will become huge. Then I worry about how I would be able to work with all the kids, especially those kids who really need help. I almost don’t want to spend too much time organizing them into reading groups or planning too far ahead. I’m starting novels in both classes tomorrow; I hope I don’t have to backtrack and start over because I have a bunch of new kids. I’m trying to tell myself that if it happens, I’ll be ok, but I will be pissed. My principal may also have to excess someone if that class has to be dissolved.

So if you believe in the Class Size Fairies, please put in a good word for me.