I read this article, “Where Have All the Teachers Gone” today. In particular this stood out.
“An analysis just out from Georgetown’s Edunomics Lab argues that boosting class size for great teachers would save money that could then be funneled into bonuses for those educators taking on a larger load. The savings would come largely from a reduction in the overall teaching force, angering teachers unions and their allies.”
Calm down teachers unions. What sane teacher would boost their class size for extra money? I don’t want you to pay me more for added time or kids, I want less kids for the same pay.
Today was really rough. I had a hard time keeping the simmering anger down and when I got cut off on the bridge and there was weepy country music in the background, I couldn’t help but start to cry out of self-pity. Amidst the excuses and trying to empathize with two students who made it hard today, I harshly told myself that maybe that time of the month was approaching.
But there comes a fault where it just can’t be my fault. As I neared the last light before my house, I glared at the blinking red hand and railed against this piloted “rotations” system going on in my classroom. I’m told that the light is closer than I think and I’m doing better than I’m giving myself credit for. But at the end of the day, nothing feels worth it.
I try to concentrate on the rest of the kids. The laughs. The miniature successes. And how with a rotations system, I can finally give some of my higher kids extra attention too. But what do I do about little Bo Pete who stares at me blankly. How many more emergency meetings are we going to have on differentiation and outlier students? I’ve heard the science teacher explain her differentiation piece three times now in three meetings with I’m sure the same audience. I’ve heard us voice the same issues. Kids know that all they need to do in my class is work hard. If I have Mr. Freshly-Tested-Out-of-His-IEP and Ms. ELL/IEP/Missed-class-because-of-broken-leg thriving, what’s the excuse for the kids who claims that “I get him in trouble” or “nothing will change” or “it’s because others distract me”? How do I respond to ridiculous requests like, “when I’m distracted, let me go for a five minute walk, let me listen to music, seat me somewhere else, seat me near a friend?”
Do I reward you because you, as a fourteen-year-old, can’t hold it together? Sure, go on your five-minute walk. Then come back and be more confused than before. And then get more frustrated!
Or sure, go ahead and listen to music. Oh wait, you don’t know what’s going on because you’re spacing out even more? I’ll take time out of my lunch break to help you out.
Oh sure, sit with your friend who’s going to “help” you. Wait! Now you’re both throwing things at someone else at the table?
Give me a break.
And while I’m juggling kids, there’s people who promise help and never deliver. That’s even worse.
And I promisepromisepromise you, I have it really good here. How do I deal? Money’s definitely not what’s going to sweeten it.
What’s interesting though, is that when kids are rotten, something sweet happens with the school. And when school things discomfit me, the kids are pretty sweet. I’m thankful for a happy end of the day. Now onto the massload of emails concerning students I sent to the office, a failed conflict-management, and phone calls home.