No More Mute Button

Michael and I were fated to spend a LOT of time together. Of course, we didn't know that when we first met, but I don't think it would have mattered. He's just a likable kid. To me. I'm pretty sure he had some teachers who would argue. Let's see if I can paint a picture to give you some idea of The Michael.

First of all, Michael is an albino African-American, which makes his appearance unusual and has caused him to develop quite a thick skin for teasing. Second, he was adopted very young, and his adoption was a formative event for him in his home life. Third, he was diagnosed as ADD/ADHD but he never managed to have or take any medication (ugh). Fourth, he was (and is) absolutely, unequivocally, brilliant. However, Michael struggled academically due to some combination of the other social and attention factors.

Michael's freshman year was my first year of teaching at MLK. He presented perhaps my most challenging classroom management obstacle. I simply did not have the strategies for how to deal with someone who could not/did not sit still and try to do their work...ever. He's just one of those kids who can get under a teacher's skin. Ask obnoxious questions like a three year old: why? why? why not? Or, get smart and ask provocative questions that the teacher can't answer. That gets REALLY annoying! After failing first quarter, we worked it out that he would be my assistant to help work out some of his energy. He did better after that.

Sophomore year brought increased challenges. I was in a classroom in a different part of the building, and it had no windows. I thought Michael would seriously bounce off the walls that year. When I finally found a strategy that would contain his energy, I couldn't believe it worked. I also couldn't believe I actually resorted to using it on a regular basis. Michael responded positively to an imaginary remote control. I could hit an imaginary "pause" button, and he would freeze and stay frozen until I hit the "play" button to return him to action. I would placate him occasionally with a "slow forward" or "rewind," and he would behave for entire class periods at a time. Oh, "mute" was a true lifesaver! I think the other students appreciated a break from his constant motion and interruption. Anyway, other than poetry, which seemed beyond his rather more science/math sensibilities, we managed to get through that year.

Believe it or not, Michael and I were together for junior year as well. By now, I would have thought that Michael would have been tired of me, but no (at least, not that he told me!). I was in a third classroom; this one had big windows and was in a remote part of the building. Michael was working a job now and the responsibility seemed to settle him down academically as well. He was also taking more difficult science and math classes, so he was being challenged in other classes. In my class, he was more than capable of reading and answering questions. However, formal writing continued to be a struggle. He's actually a good writer of standard English; he's just overly succinct. He's clever, witty, and quite humorous, when he's not being absurd. On the other hand, it was quite refreshing to have a student capable of being absurd and who knows he's being absurd, so go figure.

Senior year, and Michael and I were free of one another in the classroom. However, he couldn't stand the thought of a year without me, and he came to visit each and every day. Actually, I shared a classroom with another favorite teacher of his, and he was able to visit both of us with one "pop in." He took great care of the computer lab that we had in our room. It was during this year that Michael discovered girls. Well, one girl in particular. Tonia was a lovely, intelligent, quiet girl, and I thought they made a great couple. What I didn't expect (and I suspect they didn't either!) was for them to get pregnant. Michael freaked out, had his panic moment, then settled into the idea of being a father and support to Tonia.

During his freshman year, my students got on a kick about wanting to know my middle name. I told them that after they graduated, if they asked, I would tell them. Immediately after his graduation ceremony, Michael bounded up to me, huge grin on his face, and said, "You have to tell me. You have to tell me." I had no idea what he meant. When he reminded me, I couldn't believe he had remembered all that time! So, of course, I made good on the promise. ADD he may be, but there's nothing wrong with his memory.

Michael and Tonia are married and have 2 beautiful children. She is a stay at home mom, and he works to support his family. He's in school to turn his fascination with computers into a career. Recently, he found vital information to help him on his search for his birth mother. He's still as hyper as ever, and he can still drive me crazy, but I haven't had the urge recently to hit the mute button. May his "play" button continue working for a long time to come.

Cheesecake Apology

This may be one of those "you had to be there" times, but I'll try to convey the spirit of the occasion. For those of you who have been following along, you may remember in "Recovery from Failure" I mentioned 4 students who went from F's to A's. I promised to take these 4 students out to dinner. It just so happened that there were two girls who were good friends and two boys who were also friends. Based on the original offer, I let them decide where we would eat, emphasizing "the sky's the limit." After extensive, prolonged, belabored discussion, the quartet announced that they would like to go to Olive Garden. Only one of them had apparently been there before, and he had done a sell-job to the other three. So, Olive Garden it was.

Perhaps I should describe the players involved a bit more to help paint the scene. Natasha was the actual "winner" whose grade had shown the most improvement. She was a petite girl with a spitfire personality and a quick wit. Next was Sheree, a quiet girl with a heart of gold. Third, Roosevelt, who has already featured in an entry, tall, dark, handsome, and wickedly funny. Finally, the surprise entry in the group, came Bobby. I don't think Bobby had ever tried to succeed in any academic endeavor before this competition. I will maintain that this experience turned his whole educational career around. Anyway, I learned on this evening that Bobby has a drive and a commitment to a "schtick" that rivals any working comic today.

So, after school, the 5 of us piled into my Honda Civic to go to Olive Garden, which was on the other side of town. The smack-talking and joking started right away. Bobby was in back with the girls, and he and Natasha were relentless in their teasing of one another. It was clear there was a beyond-friendship interest by the time we reached the restaurant.

Fortunately for the other paying patrons, the hostess seated us in a out-of-the-way corner table where we would be least likely to bother others with our silliness. And, we were silly. The kids had not been to many restaurants, and so they were very curious about everything on the menu. That meant lots of questions and funny pronunciations and, well, explanations. They weren't very experimental in what they were willing to order, so we had quite a time coming up with things for them to eat.

However, when the salad showed up, I thought they were going to kick us out. I really thought that dumb pepper was going to fly across the room. And, God help the olives. The kids went after that salad bowl with a fine tooth comb before anyone could take a bite! We were laughing so hard at the injustice of putting "foreign" food into such a basic staple. Bobby had us rolling in our chairs.

Eventually, somehow we got through the majority of the meal. We decided to all order dessert and share. Allow me to be abundantly clear. Bobby ordered the cheesecake. It was supposed to be Bobby's cheesecake. The server placed the cheesecake in front of Bobby. You know how much something can mean when it's special? That's how Bobby felt about that cheesecake. Well, a couple of cute girls walked in, and Roosevelt tried to get Bobby to check them out in a subtle way. However, Natasha caught the peek and didn't like it. So, she took her fork and took a bite (the TIP no less!) of that cheesecake! I thought we were going to lose Bobby. I really did.

Bobby turned back around, took one glance at his maimed cheesecake, and stared at a rather guilty-looking Natasha, who had a bit of cheesecake on her lip. He said, "You'd better apologize." Natasha said, "I'm sorry, Bobby." He said (and I'll never forget it), "Not to me. You'd better start apologizing to the cheesecake." Well, honestly, I don't think Natasha quite knew what to do. Bobby had a straight face. The rest of us were lost in peals of giggles, but Bobby was in apparent earnest. Now, she liked this boy and she had offended him. Now, here he was demanding that she apologize to the CHEESEcake. Believe it or not, she did!

I suppose she didn't feel like she had a choice. Either apologize or never have a chance with Bobby. At any rate, our giggles turned into full-fledged belly laughs the likes of which legends are made. When I reconnected with Roosevelt recently, one of the first things he said to me was "Remember when Bobby made Natasha apologize to that cheesecake?" I sure do. What a simple way to impact students' lives...with a good, old-fashioned laughfest.

Recovery from Failure

During my first year at MLK, I failed my students, miserably, in more ways than one. In one class, 23 out of 25 students failed the first quarter of the year. I actually bubbled in "F" twenty-three times on the grade reporting sheet for that one section alone. Now, as a reflective teacher, I had choices about how to proceed. Here's how I saw it at the time. I could continue to teach the way I'd been teaching. After all, I set high expectations and assigned work college-bound students should be able to complete. It was up to the students to meet me where I was instructing. Conversely, I could change how I was teaching and try to address my students' needs. After all, my job was to make sure they learned the skills regardless of how they got to the goal. Obviously, I chose Door #2, but allow me to say that many teachers choose Door #1 each and every day and continue to fail students on multiple levels.

Having made the choice to change how I did business, I needed strategies for helping the students be successful. As a new teacher, my toolbox of options was rather limited in the whole "teacher makeover" area. So, I looked to role models as examples. I had been impressed by Lou Anne Johnson's teaching in many ways, and I decided she would be a perfect inspiration for my new classroom approach. Ms. Johnson is the subject of the movie Dangerous Minds, which had recently been released, and she has written several books about her experiences teaching in Los Angeles. Actually, I could also say she is the inspiration for this blog, but that's another story.

Ms. Johnson chose to combine several factors in her instructional approach: (1) down-to-earth delivery, (2) her own passions/interests, and (3) knowledge of her students' cache'. I'm not sure if "cache'" is the right word or not, but it's the word I've adopted for a teacher's leverage over his/her students. If I know what my students value in the scope of my influence, then I know how I can motivate them to act and, therefore, learn. So, I adopted each of these three tenets into my own classroom approach during the second nine weeks.

Really, I have always taught with a down-to-earth delivery approach. I'm just comfortable addressing groups of people as though I'm only talking to one person. I am simply the latest in a long line of orators in my family, and the role comes naturally. So, this tenet was basically a continuation of my previous practices.

By teaching a novel that I had taught during student teaching, I was able to bring a natural enthusiasm to my approach that had been lacking during the first quarter. I wasn't teaching what I thought I should be teaching; I was teaching what I wanted to teach. Big difference in my personal investment.

The students' cache' or my leverage is what puts the spotlight back on the students. My students revealed two important factors about themselves as a collective group during the first quarter: (1) they value social time (what teenagers don't?), and (2) they value/enjoy competition. So, I chose to combine these two characteristics of typical teens into the format for the second quarter. As we read Lord of the Flies, I tried to creatively apply social outlets in a competitive atmosphere as often as possible.

I arranged the students into authentic cooperative learning groups for the duration of the 9 weeks. They read together, did questions together, took quizzes as a group, did projects as a group. The groups named themselves, had tribal flags and mottoes, bonded as friends, and generally learned a whole lot. I thoroughly enjoyed the synergy that came from the groups working together to help each member be successful.

I offered competitive incentives for the "tribes" to out-achieve one another as we read Lord of the Flies. I offered a class incentive for overall improvement: If the whole class (NO exceptions!) passed for the quarter, then I would pay for a movie/pizza party. I also offered individual incentives for improvement: For the student whose grade showed the greatest improvement from first quarter, I would take the student out to dinner anywhere in Cleveland on my dime. You would not believe how motivating the competitive elements became! I might also mention that food was a secondary element to the students' cache'.

At the end of the quarter, there was one student who had attendance issues who was in danger of failing. I let his tribe know he was in danger so they could help remind him to do his make-up work. Well, the tribe let the whole class know, and those kids would not leave that boy alone! I will never forget the look on Mikail's face when he brought in his dog-eared, smudgy pile of make-up work, all complete, and presented it to me as though it were on a velvet pillow. I have no idea how much help he had, and I don't really care. The look of accomplishment on his face was worth the passing grade. So, the class won the pizza party.

For the individual competition, I ended up with 4 students who went from F's to A's, which they had genuinely earned. At that point, it didn't matter which one had the greatest increase. They had all improved tremendously, so I took them all to dinner.

I learned a valuable lesson, though, about recovery that nine weeks. Students will forgive me for failing them if I admit the failure and try to fix it. I can forgive students in the same way. The problem is in the lack of reflection or in the hubris that won't allow for an adjustment in teaching approach. So, while I am very proud of my lightbulb students who learned a valuable lesson in their own efficacy that quarter of English I, I too learned a valuable lesson in my own ability to recover from failure.

A Case Study

Robbie has the most beautiful eyes I've ever seen. They are the most unusual color and have the longest lashes. He has more wit, humor, and charisma than almost any person I've ever met. He also harbors more sadness than one person should know or bear. In my first year of teaching, he became my earliest "case study." His entire life reads like a file from a social worker's case load. His reality contains details that, up until he and I started talking, I thought were contrived by "Made for TV" movie writers to seem trumped up and impossible to fathom. However, as Robbie's life story unfolded during our time together, I came to realize that perhaps TV did imitate life.

What would the social worker's file say? Robbie, aged 18, grade 10. Father: Unknown. Mother: Prostitute, drug addict. Siblings: 5 (5 different fathers). Occupation: Recreational Drug Distributor.

I don't think it's the recitation of that combination of facts that surprised me so much. It was more in the attitude and acceptance of a sequence of events. Robbie's mom was a crack addict who had several children by several fathers. Because of her habit, she was essentially unable to care for her family. Robbie, as eldest child and as a male, felt compelled to provide for his family. Well, at 8, what's a boy to do? There are limited professional opportunities for 8-year-old boys. So, he began selling weed. And, he continued to sell through elementary and middle school.

But that's not all. Not only was Robbie going to school full time and working throughout most of the night, he was also raising each of his siblings as they came along. He cooked and cleaned and cared for his brothers and sisters as essentially a single parent would. He also took care of his mother when she needed his help. Amazing.

When Robbie entered my classroom, he was so enmeshed in his pattern that he saw no alternative future for himself. He didn't see himself earning a diploma, and he certainly didn't see college as an option. It was probably unfair of me to even suggest that he pursue another path. However, the boy could draw. I don't mean cute little critters or sinister comic creations or even adequate copies of existing works. I mean, Robbie had the vision, creativity, and perception necessary for graphic design and/or architecture. I hated to see all of that potential go to waste.

Not only that, but Robbie didn't even see himself graduating from high school. He basically wandered in and out of the school to sell to a few clients and socialize with a few friends. This was one time when my naivete' served me well. I actually expected Robbie to do his work! I had Robbie for three different classes during the day, and he enjoyed my classes. However, his attendance was understandably erratic. He was honest and open about why he only showed up occasionally ("Ms. Hoskins, I'm saving up for a whip. I gotta work them streets. I can't make no paper sittin' in these here seats."), but my middle class values wouldn't let him go.

I knew that drawing was a cache' for him. He'd never had real drawing pencils of his own. He'd stolen "nubbins" from art class, but he'd never had his own tools. So, I went to an art supply store and bought a supply of pencils. I bribed him (no need to mince words 'cause that's what it was) to come to both classes every day by offering him a pencil for each week of perfect attendance. It basically worked! He came to class, did his work, and contributed greatly to class activities and discussions. My lunch was between two of his classes with me, and we would sit and talk each day. I don't have any idea if he went to a single other class, but he made it to English every day.

At the end of the year, he told me he was transferring to another school that was closer to his home to reduce his commute time. It sounded like lies to me. However, I had to respect his decision, and with teary eyes, I said goodbye. Imagine my surprise a year later when he walked into my classroom, wearing the hugest smile on his face, waving a small ivory rectangle of paper. I jumped up to greet him, and he extended to me an invitation to his graduation. His mom, well, she wasn't going to be able to make it, and he thought I might want to see him walk the stage.

I went to that graduation. I saw Robbie walk that stage and get his diploma. I hugged him when it was over and told him how proud I was. He thanked me for not letting go. My case study turned out not to be the rule...he was the exception...