I was reminded yesterday that a few words can make a big difference.
Neo was getting his morning off to the usual start -- wandering around the room, talking to his friends, and not doing any work. I pulled him off to the side for a quick talk about why he comes to school. To learn, he promptly replied. I asked him whether he knew why he didn't sit with his friends in class, and he did. It was a quiet, quick talk, and then I sent him back to his desk.
Throughout the day I marveled at Neo's focus. He would even gently chide his friends to quiet down and listen. He did his work. He did need reminders now and then, but the attitude and effort was much improved. Today was another quite good day.
Is that little rustle I hear the sound of a new leaf being turned?
Oddly enough, I'm seeing a less dramatic but also positive trend with Dimples. While he still mouths off from time to time, and flat-out refuses to do work on occasion, he has begun doing some math assignments. He needed prompting to work on a constructed response this afternoon, but I walked away for a few moments and came back to see that he had finished, on his own.
Gotta hand it to my students for making better choices. : )
Showing posts with label Neo. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Neo. Show all posts
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
hey, what about that yellow brick road?
7 more school days until our weeklong intersession. I feel bad for being so enthusiastic about a solid week away from my students, but it's true that I am looking forward to that time off.
Neo, Junior and King always come to school early, so this morning I used that time to do some goal-setting with them. I had them write down on a card a goal (sitting down, listening, etc), why it was important, and how I could help them. It was a good chance to talk about: do you prefer me to stand next to you and quietly remind you, or are you OK with me saying something from the front of the room? King opted for just a hand on his shoulder; Junior opted for a quiet verbal reminder; and Neo, surprisingly, said he was OK with a reminder from the front of the room. I had them put the completed card in their desks then sent them off to breakfast.
Superstar stopped by as the students were lining up outside. I didn't catch what happened (verbal teasing is my guess, or maybe someone made a rude gesture at him), but all of a sudden he put his sunglasses and backpack down and lunged toward the boys' line. I had to grab him by the arms from behind to keep him from hitting someone. One of my grade-level colleagues came over to help me steer him away. I ended up having to walk Superstar to his class, with my arm firmly around his shoulders the whole time. I turned him over to his teacher, but kept myself between him and the door because he tried to go back to my class again. I saw him at recess, and he was his usual cheerful, playful self. Again, a silent prayer of thanks that my students haven't hit their growth spurts yet; just about everyone is shorter than I am. I suspect those growth spurts are just around the corner, however; I started pricing deodorant/ antiperspirants this weekend because I walked past some students after recess the other week and noticed for the first time that they were smelly. Good old hormones kicking in.
Unfortunately, I didn't get to see how the goal-setting worked, because the trio were yanked out my room after recess. They were lined up outside, and the trio were horsing around, talking loudly, etc. I was standing next to them, trying to get them settled, when Junior and King's fourth-grade teacher walked by. In an instant she took in their behavior, bounded over in a few furious steps, and launched into a tirade that started with "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?" (Yes, the volume and fury merit all caps). She then took them with her, to call their parents and explain why they were in trouble. They came back teary-eyed and cowed-looking to apologize to me and their classmates.
The incident with Superstar reminded me of my first day on my school's campus, as a wide-eyed aspiring teacher. The bell had just rung for dismissal. I was sitting on a bench outside the library, watching the students disperse, when I saw a girl dash towards the front office. The vice principal was close behind, and he took her by the arm. She dropped to the ground and began screaming "let me go" over and over again. It was a striking sound -- to this day, I can't find a way to describe it adequately. The closest I can get is to say that it almost sounded like a robot, or a tape recording, because of its repetition. The VP restrained her and with help pulled her off the ground and into his office. That was my official "Toto, we're not in a comfy suburban school anymore" moment.
I was talking to my sister recently about some of my classroom travails, and she tried to cheer me up by pointing out, at least your job isn't boring. Yeah, that's true, but it would be so nice right now to have a boring day.
Neo, Junior and King always come to school early, so this morning I used that time to do some goal-setting with them. I had them write down on a card a goal (sitting down, listening, etc), why it was important, and how I could help them. It was a good chance to talk about: do you prefer me to stand next to you and quietly remind you, or are you OK with me saying something from the front of the room? King opted for just a hand on his shoulder; Junior opted for a quiet verbal reminder; and Neo, surprisingly, said he was OK with a reminder from the front of the room. I had them put the completed card in their desks then sent them off to breakfast.
Superstar stopped by as the students were lining up outside. I didn't catch what happened (verbal teasing is my guess, or maybe someone made a rude gesture at him), but all of a sudden he put his sunglasses and backpack down and lunged toward the boys' line. I had to grab him by the arms from behind to keep him from hitting someone. One of my grade-level colleagues came over to help me steer him away. I ended up having to walk Superstar to his class, with my arm firmly around his shoulders the whole time. I turned him over to his teacher, but kept myself between him and the door because he tried to go back to my class again. I saw him at recess, and he was his usual cheerful, playful self. Again, a silent prayer of thanks that my students haven't hit their growth spurts yet; just about everyone is shorter than I am. I suspect those growth spurts are just around the corner, however; I started pricing deodorant/ antiperspirants this weekend because I walked past some students after recess the other week and noticed for the first time that they were smelly. Good old hormones kicking in.
Unfortunately, I didn't get to see how the goal-setting worked, because the trio were yanked out my room after recess. They were lined up outside, and the trio were horsing around, talking loudly, etc. I was standing next to them, trying to get them settled, when Junior and King's fourth-grade teacher walked by. In an instant she took in their behavior, bounded over in a few furious steps, and launched into a tirade that started with "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?" (Yes, the volume and fury merit all caps). She then took them with her, to call their parents and explain why they were in trouble. They came back teary-eyed and cowed-looking to apologize to me and their classmates.
The incident with Superstar reminded me of my first day on my school's campus, as a wide-eyed aspiring teacher. The bell had just rung for dismissal. I was sitting on a bench outside the library, watching the students disperse, when I saw a girl dash towards the front office. The vice principal was close behind, and he took her by the arm. She dropped to the ground and began screaming "let me go" over and over again. It was a striking sound -- to this day, I can't find a way to describe it adequately. The closest I can get is to say that it almost sounded like a robot, or a tape recording, because of its repetition. The VP restrained her and with help pulled her off the ground and into his office. That was my official "Toto, we're not in a comfy suburban school anymore" moment.
I was talking to my sister recently about some of my classroom travails, and she tried to cheer me up by pointing out, at least your job isn't boring. Yeah, that's true, but it would be so nice right now to have a boring day.
Friday, September 4, 2009
a little smile
Pilot moved here from the Philippines. He is extremely quiet and shy; a few weeks ago he refused to speak when I had students introduce themselves to a new classmate. But bit by bit, he seems to be getting a little more comfortable. Recently, I had students working in pairs to study vocabulary words. Each pair had to present their word to the class. I was surprised and pleased that Pilot read aloud the word's definition. It was in a very soft voice, but for him to speak at all in front of the class was a big step. I think it definitely helped that I had him work with his seatmate, Teddy. Teddy is gentle, helpful and friendly; I deliberately seated them together so Pilot would have someone to watch out for him.
Another sign of progress: In those first days of school, Pilot didn't smile at all. About a week ago, I instituted my hug-handshake-high five exit policy, as a way of closing the day and connecting with each student. He's started flashing a little smile as he shakes my hand on the way out the door.
The 3 Musketeers are still a handful, but repeated talks with me, the counselors (and some detention) may be helping them. I noticed today that they are reminding each other to "listen to the teacher." I remind myself each morning to be patient but firm and consistent, to be encouraging, to not give up. It feels like I ask the same questions over and over again, questions such as: What were you doing just now? (talking loudly without raising my hand, not listening, playing around). What are we as a class doing right now? (vocabulary practice, math, reading aloud). What different choice can you make next time? (ignore my friend who wants me to play around with him, listen to directions, ask for help if I don't know what to do). I strive to tell them that the work is doable for them, that I will help if they will try their best, and that I know they can make good choices. They do respond well to one-to-one assistance; I resorted to that today with Neo, because it looked like he wasn't going to do any vocabulary practice without it. It's just tough to figure out how to help all of your kids equally; I have some who need just as much academic help, but admittedly don't get as much because they don't have disruptive behaviors. If there's some magic algorithm for figuring out how to help everyone equally, I'd love to know what it is!
Another sign of progress: In those first days of school, Pilot didn't smile at all. About a week ago, I instituted my hug-handshake-high five exit policy, as a way of closing the day and connecting with each student. He's started flashing a little smile as he shakes my hand on the way out the door.
The 3 Musketeers are still a handful, but repeated talks with me, the counselors (and some detention) may be helping them. I noticed today that they are reminding each other to "listen to the teacher." I remind myself each morning to be patient but firm and consistent, to be encouraging, to not give up. It feels like I ask the same questions over and over again, questions such as: What were you doing just now? (talking loudly without raising my hand, not listening, playing around). What are we as a class doing right now? (vocabulary practice, math, reading aloud). What different choice can you make next time? (ignore my friend who wants me to play around with him, listen to directions, ask for help if I don't know what to do). I strive to tell them that the work is doable for them, that I will help if they will try their best, and that I know they can make good choices. They do respond well to one-to-one assistance; I resorted to that today with Neo, because it looked like he wasn't going to do any vocabulary practice without it. It's just tough to figure out how to help all of your kids equally; I have some who need just as much academic help, but admittedly don't get as much because they don't have disruptive behaviors. If there's some magic algorithm for figuring out how to help everyone equally, I'd love to know what it is!
Monday, August 31, 2009
afternoon implosion
Monday started off well.
Heeding the counselor's advice to build relationships with my troublesome 3 Musketeers, I made a point of asking them about their weekend. More importantly, I modified my interactions with them. Instead of standing in the front of the room and directing them to take out their vocab. tablet or write in their journal when they were off-task, I made an extra effort to walk up to them and in my quietest voice remind them of what to do.
It worked very well for language arts. Knowing the 3 Musketeers often struggle with reading comprehension, I made a point of monitoring their work, offering help and encouragement, and gently keeping them on task. It worked so well that before lunch, the trio was sitting together but working quietly and diligently on vocab. and spelling.
The afternoon was a different story.
A colleague notified me that Superstar and Bling had been playing rough in the lunch line. After lunch, I let the class into the room but kept Superstar and Bling outside for a talk.
Things that went wrong: while explaining what happened, Superstar and Bling couldn't keep their hands to themselves -- I ended up standing between them to keep them from touching and pushing. Thankfully, my kids are closer to the runty side of the height spectrum, so it wasn't a problem.
Issue #2: While I was sorting this out, the 3 Musketeers kept opening the door, making faces at Superstar, and provoking him in general.
It's important to note at this point that Superstar, due to certain conditions, often has trouble getting along with his classmates -- as the counselor put it, he doesn't see or understand the effects of certain behaviors and actions. For instance, he tends to invade physical space, not let the other person talk, etc.
But it ticks me off mightily that the other students provoke Superstar. Sure, he can get in their face (literally) sometimes, and he does not always talk nicely to the other students. But I still think they can make the right choice of ignoring him, moving away, etc. if he is being irritating.
I finally sent both of them off to the counselor. Then the 3 Musketeers began their afternoon meltdown.
The class was doing a constructed response based on Friday's math activity, which required students to work in groups putting fraction and percent cards in order from least to greatest. Unfortunately, the 3 Musketeers had missed the activity due to a) sulking and b) talking to a counselor. Despite encouragement to try their best, they refused to complete the CR.
They also did not participate in our introductory lesson on decimals, although they kept up a loud commentary: when is school going to end? why is this so boring? etc. They had swapped shirts sometime during the day, and they then began to ask for permission to go to the restroom together and swap shirts. King wheedled that they "could focus" if they just had the chance to change their shirts.
I am a patient person (I think, although perhaps this year I'm going to change my mind about that), but by this time, I was thoroughly out of patience. I asked all 3 of them to talk to me outside.
Rookie mistake: it's much more effective to talk to them one at a time. Neo and Junior then refused to re-enter the room. King came in but refused to sit down, hovering near the door. He made several attempts to walk out of class but at least heeded my direction to stay inside.
The counselors came and had a good long talk with them. They apologized to me at the end of class.
I'll have a sub tomorrow and Wed. for professional development, something that could not have worse timing. While I'm disappointed that I won't get to keep reworking my approach to these students, maybe those two days will be a good time to reflect and figure out something else I think will work.
Heeding the counselor's advice to build relationships with my troublesome 3 Musketeers, I made a point of asking them about their weekend. More importantly, I modified my interactions with them. Instead of standing in the front of the room and directing them to take out their vocab. tablet or write in their journal when they were off-task, I made an extra effort to walk up to them and in my quietest voice remind them of what to do.
It worked very well for language arts. Knowing the 3 Musketeers often struggle with reading comprehension, I made a point of monitoring their work, offering help and encouragement, and gently keeping them on task. It worked so well that before lunch, the trio was sitting together but working quietly and diligently on vocab. and spelling.
The afternoon was a different story.
A colleague notified me that Superstar and Bling had been playing rough in the lunch line. After lunch, I let the class into the room but kept Superstar and Bling outside for a talk.
Things that went wrong: while explaining what happened, Superstar and Bling couldn't keep their hands to themselves -- I ended up standing between them to keep them from touching and pushing. Thankfully, my kids are closer to the runty side of the height spectrum, so it wasn't a problem.
Issue #2: While I was sorting this out, the 3 Musketeers kept opening the door, making faces at Superstar, and provoking him in general.
It's important to note at this point that Superstar, due to certain conditions, often has trouble getting along with his classmates -- as the counselor put it, he doesn't see or understand the effects of certain behaviors and actions. For instance, he tends to invade physical space, not let the other person talk, etc.
But it ticks me off mightily that the other students provoke Superstar. Sure, he can get in their face (literally) sometimes, and he does not always talk nicely to the other students. But I still think they can make the right choice of ignoring him, moving away, etc. if he is being irritating.
I finally sent both of them off to the counselor. Then the 3 Musketeers began their afternoon meltdown.
The class was doing a constructed response based on Friday's math activity, which required students to work in groups putting fraction and percent cards in order from least to greatest. Unfortunately, the 3 Musketeers had missed the activity due to a) sulking and b) talking to a counselor. Despite encouragement to try their best, they refused to complete the CR.
They also did not participate in our introductory lesson on decimals, although they kept up a loud commentary: when is school going to end? why is this so boring? etc. They had swapped shirts sometime during the day, and they then began to ask for permission to go to the restroom together and swap shirts. King wheedled that they "could focus" if they just had the chance to change their shirts.
I am a patient person (I think, although perhaps this year I'm going to change my mind about that), but by this time, I was thoroughly out of patience. I asked all 3 of them to talk to me outside.
Rookie mistake: it's much more effective to talk to them one at a time. Neo and Junior then refused to re-enter the room. King came in but refused to sit down, hovering near the door. He made several attempts to walk out of class but at least heeded my direction to stay inside.
The counselors came and had a good long talk with them. They apologized to me at the end of class.
I'll have a sub tomorrow and Wed. for professional development, something that could not have worse timing. While I'm disappointed that I won't get to keep reworking my approach to these students, maybe those two days will be a good time to reflect and figure out something else I think will work.
Friday, August 28, 2009
detective work
A teacher by necessity wears many hats. But I didn't know a detective's hat was one of them.
As I've been wrangling with boy dynamics, I've gotten increasingly worried about one of the participants. Neo gets extremely frustrated when reminded to sit down, get out his work, etc., and the look of sadness and anger on his face worries me. While his two co-conspirators also express frustration, they don't have the same sad and angry look.
Neo didn't get his homework tablet signed today (a daily requirement). I went through my usual list of questions: was mom or an adult home when he got back from school so he could get it signed right away? He said: yes, mom is home. Then he added that mom was always busy washing clothes or taking care of the baby, and would it be OK for aunty to sign it instead?
Having done a home visit, I know that there are a number of cousins and extended family in the home. It occurred to me this evening that maybe Neo is feeling a little neglected by mom, and that could have a great deal to do with his sadness and frustration.
It also occurred to me that while I've had a number of talks with Neo this week, I haven't asked him why he's so unhappy, and about what I can do to help him.
That will be the first order of business on Monday ...
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