documentation

Monday, Feb 26, 2007; 11:26 a.m.

All morning I have been scanning, and making copies, and printing extra copies of all the work I have done. The process has given me confidence, because I am seeing that I did my job. I knew I did. I have proof. I have photos. Staff and faculty saw me doing my job - even when there was a flippant (and errant) remark made to a student suggesting otherwise. Not to mention, I was video and audio taped nearly every second while doing my job.

I'm not saying that I was perfect. I did make mistakes. They were typical new student-teacher mistakes. I corrected the mistakes, and I learned along the way.

I allowed my master teachers' inappropriate comments to intimidate me, which prevented me from enforcing professional and personal boundaries. It also prevented me from fully disclosing how much it bothered me that I felt continually and increasingly undermined, and under-supported in regards to the behavior management issues. I did discuss it, though.

If my husband and his workplace were not a part of this equation, I would have felt fully confident and justified approaching my master teacher, defining my boundaries with respect and professionalism, and asking for courtesy and respect. This school is where he works, and he LOVES his job. He is paying all the bills while I finish earning my credential, so that I can join him in earning a living and supporting our family. He is a relatively new teacher. My master teacher is not. I was afraid that if I approached the Master Teacher, gossip would increase, and become more malicious, further placing both my husband and I in a very awkward situation. I felt like I had to be present for every Nutrition and Lunch period in order to avoid giving any further opportunity for gossip and inappropriate suggestions.

My husband and I both discussed working at the same site when it was proposed to me upon passing the portfolio review (December 1st, 2006). My friend Lindsay was with us having a celebratory lunch at the Nugget on the campus. We agreed that we could carpool in together if there were no conflicting schedules. We agreed to a professional demeanor; no affection on or near campus, spoken nor physical. We didn't even say "I love you" - we stuck with our code word. I replied on the phone only once "I love you too" to a call made during lunch. Now, with one flippant remark, my conduct (and my husbands' conduct) is being called into question.

There are about four or five other teacher couples at the site. They are married, and work at the same school. They get gossip, too - but they can stop it in its' tracks. They are not guests at the school. They have their credentials in hand. They don't have a master teacher listening in the hall as you try to address your challenges with your support system and colleagues. I felt like that support system was taken away from me.

I'm not judging my master teachers' methods. If something works for her, then it works. I tried to the best of my ability (while very emotional) to explain to my supervisors the system that had been put into place was working against me. I tried to explain where my difficulties are, and ask for help in order to address those concerns with my master teacher. A particular situation was increasingly getting out of control. I needed help. I felt I would not be supported by my master teacher. I took a step back and asked for help from the university.

My master teacher (now former master teacher) blames me for misinterpreting what she said and did. Maybe it was a joke - but how would I know that? Even if the comments were made in jest, it was at my expense. It called into question my integrity. It created mistrust. It was inappropriate. I did nothing to deserve that. It was unfair to create that kind of a challenge to address and that kind of environment to work in.

For now, I am continuing my paperwork. I have a great start on my portfolio, and I am proud of the successes I had, and with my students' successes. My husband is proud of me.

selling in class

Just as a post-script:

Friday after I got home, I telephoned my supervisors and alerted them to the situation, including the children with drugs in class. I also called the school's campus detective. Since he was not at his telephone, I left a message with my home number, and also my husband's classroom number if he has further questions.

I did this not only because it was what I am supposed to do, but out of protection for myself and for both schools involved.

not enough

A good night's sleep was not enough to help out and assist my return on Friday. I cried for most of Thursday evening, and I thought it was out of my system. That wasn't the first time I cried this week. I don't think it was the second, either. As the blocks passed by and we got closer to the school, the tears returned. I tried, but I couldn't shut them off. I was so disappointed in myself because I could not stop crying.

I could not stand in front of those kids and give them a lesson while in this state. So I handed my plans and worksheets to my husband, and asked him to hand them on to the MT. I went home when I could, and called in for support.

For professional reasons, I'm choosing not to publish the details of this situation. I'm adding supplemental logs (written in confidence, and password-protected) to this field log. I'm doing what I can to work out the situation, and make the appropriate changes. I have been advised to take further steps, but for now I am going to wait and see how this new dialogue works out.

I just want to do my job to the best of my ability. There are some changes that need to be addressed in order for me to do that.

... At the 2nd week, I lost my voice. I still taught, but it was extra-challenging. In another way, and about at the first or second week, I lost my voice. By yesterday - Friday, and in both cases, I got my voice back.

We'll see how it goes.

this job sucks

Sometimes, like today, the bad days are really bad. Sometimes, the bad schools really earn their reputation. I can still hear Bob's words from the other day - "Don't let those crazies over there get to ya." Why does it always happen after someone says something like that?

Later in the day, I hear from a student that people in my class are selling weed - IN CLASS. I suspected one (or more) of them were holding yesterday. I also felt that MT would not do anything about it. Apparently, students found out that the rules don't get enforced when you smoke a blunt outside the classroom - graduating seniors especially. So now, as I'm teaching a lesson, I hear some of the students remark that they can 'smell that shit from here' - across the table. I take a look over, (still lecturing) and they all freeze up. Someone was holding. They had to be.

My intent was to hold the table after class and ask them to empty their backpacks out on the table. They all slipped out as the bell rang. I was distracted by another handful of attention demanding students. They're all attention demanding students.

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It took most of the afternoon, and constantly thinking of the 10 to 15 % of my students who actually try and care about their education, to not say "I'm done, I'm not coming back, I don't have to do this, other schools in better places are asking me to work for them," It is still taking a lot of restraint to not say it.

That 10 percent keeps me going - even when they mess with me. They're excellent kids. They have heart, and brains, and drive. They're creative, and brilliant - even though some of their GPA's don't show it. They have difficulties expressing themselves or more difficulty in recognizing when to stop expressing themselves - which gets them into trouble with other teachers. They're not the schools' top 10% - but they're MY top 10%.

I hope they're going to be enough to hold on to. I'm tired, and weary, and angry, and frustrated, ...and sad. I'm so, so sad. I'm very disappointed by many things. I'm SO weary of hearing complaints all day long - about the most asinine things. The time is flying by each day - but I'm still counting down the weeks until it's over. To top it off: I'm missing out on precious time with my son AND I'm deeper in to debt for this thrilling little experience.

I keep asking myself "why do I care?" "Why should I care?"

I keep reminding myself that these high-schoolers are just toddlers in adult-sized bodies. Toddlers can be such a-holes sometimes. Then they turn around and do something so cute, or loving, or smart, ... it almost makes you forget about the tantrums. Almost. We'll see what tomorrow brings. Preparing for the worst - hoping for the best, mostly hoping for a good night's sleep.

climbing the mountain - of paperwork

I'm almost ready to start. I have so much to write, and more to rewrite. I can feel myself procrastinating - taking care of other diversions, (mostly related to the work).

And then I look around at my home, how could I possibly begin paperwork when the dishes need to be washed, and there's vacuuming to do? It can wait. DH can do it.

He's astonished. When he student-taught in English (same University, similar requirements in English as for Art), his supervisor never met weekly on campus. She rarely saw him in the classroom - maybe once while actually teaching. It turns out she's got Alzheimers. He got away with a lot - academic murder we'll call it, even though he wanted the support and help. He thinks it's astonishing that I have to rewrite Master Teacher's Lesson Plans to adhere to our university format, and to the state VAPA standards. What do I think? I'm too busy to let it get to me - much. I don't have time to worry - DH can do that too.

As long as he does his griping about my work away from me, I won't get sucked into the whirlpool of stress. I have had to ask my darling to not tell me how 'bad' I have it. I can deal, I can do it, but I can't soothe my own worries along with his AND get it done. The sweetie is grocery shopping AND doing laundry to give me time to complete my work. Thanks so much for letting me complete my field journal here in this format.

I'll be writing some of my journal as drafts, and probably not publishing them here. There are confidentiality issues to deal with, and my kids are already trying to find my MySpace page.

Typing is still difficult with the nerve/muscle pain in my left hand. Maybe all the typing exercise will alleviate it - or exacerbate it. Ah well. I've got one chance to do it now, and I know a great physical therapist at the University.

It's time to climb Mt. Writemore.

oy vey

I am so overstimulated at this point.

I feel like I am a ride operator at an amusement park - the only ride operator for all the rides. There's so much on my mind, that I really don't know where to begin.

The critiques were difficult. I jumped into a discussion about the art works without setting a model for the students to follow. I assumed they could follow along.

In regards to the new project: I received complaints about the amount of 'paperwork' - meaning 2 articles to read and respond to - that they now have to do.
"Ms. So and So never made us do this" ...I'm not sure, I think that may have embarrassed us both. It sure didn't help morale.
I wasn't expecting some silly response of "oh boy, I sure do love the amount of reading you give us, Ms, B", but it still just kills ya a little inside to have worked on a lesson so hard, and have it met with resistance even in the begining steps.

Later in the day, a light-hearted conversation turned in to a sobering splash in the face - some of my students have been shot at. One students' brother was shot... on two seperate occasions. The brother was not in a gang, or doing anything to provoke a bullet graze to the head, and later a fingernail melting off when a seperate attack landed a round on his finger. This isn't my first experience with guns, gunfire, murder, gang violence, whatever. I'm not some naive PollyAnna who can't see past my own porch. I know that many of my students use drugs, some probably sell them, many are affiliated with gangs, some want to be, some have children older than my own 17-month-old, etc. It's just maddening that these issues are a part of our life. Though they are nearly old enough to vote, the students are still children. Some of these children are making very adult decisions about how they live their lives, without having the cognitive capacity to weigh possible consequences.

"sometimes showing up is half of the battle." No kidding. I've taken for granted the success and amount of luck and effort the students have to make just to get to school sometimes. They don't believe me when I tell them I'm happy to see them at the beginning of the period.

I get teased and corrected for using the word "please".

Oh boy - when did I become such a 'professional' and an 'ADULT'??

Some of my successes:
One of my special needs students (who doesn't speak with anyone) talks with me. He's doing great in the project, even though he may need explicit step-by-step - AND 'only one step at a time' instructions. I can do that. I need to do more of that with the rest of the class anyway.

The student I pulled aside and conferenced with is talking to me about his life, his issues with other instructors, etc. He sent me a Lolly-pop Valentine for Valentine's Day. He's brilliant, but just doesn't have full reign over his emotions yet - sometimes his mouth acts before consulting with his brain. Sometimes, I can relate.

I fixed the sink, and cleaned it to a shine. It has stayed clean all day since then - and not for lack of use, and not because I yelled. I didn't have to.

I repaired a sewing machine so that the Master Teacher could use it in her classes.

I talked about cars, college, and life with a student of my Master Teacher, and she asked me to teach a special technique to another very 'at-risk' student in her class. We seem to have made a connection.

This weekend brings another three-day weekend. Thank all that is good and wherever it comes from for that. It feels like my paperwork mountain has fought back, and has tripled in size. It will not win. I will defeat it.

I'm having a ton of epiphanies, and having all sorts of ideas for my own classroom (should I ever become employed doing this sort of thing). The sparks are flying, but the smell of my own brain on fire is telling me to shut down for tonight, and power up again tomorrow.