I made two students cry today. I take no joy in this, but I do have to admit to a grim satisfaction. Both are two of about a dozen students who have exerted little effort into my class, and are now failing. It’s only the first quarter; they have ten weeks to bring their grade up before it pounds their GPA. But suddenly the gravity of an impending F has struck the masses, and these two were bold enough to suddenly take action. Both approached me at the beginning of their respective class periods to ask if they could do extra credit or be excused from some missing assignments. Now if a student is experiencing some trauma at home, or has been classified by our Special Ed department as needing some accommodations, I’m more than happy to work with the student to improve their grade. I never excuse an assignment, but under the right circumstances, I’ll extend the deadline or allow the student to do alternate, but equally rigorous, work.
These two students do not qualify for that kind of courtesy. Both admitted that they just didn’t do the work because it bored them, or they didn’t feel like it, and now they’re in trouble at home because of the resulting grade. One girl, as an excuse as to why she didn’t turn in a literature project, said, “Well, I just don’t like to read.” I told her that I didn’t know what kind of response she expected from me, as I am an ENGLISH TEACHER. I didn’t go into teaching for the money; I went into it because of my love of the subject matter. And this was an interesting assignment: I let the students choose their books, reminding them ad nauseum to choose a book about a subject they love. As a result, if I have to read one more literature log on Twilight, I’m going to suck the blood out of a deer myself. But at least the kids are reading, and I have to remind myself of that.
This student stared at an open book for five weeks during Silent reading time in class, then informed me the day the assignment was due that she didn’t like the book she choose, so she wasn’t going to do the project. Now this same girl is one of two students asking to do extra credit, which means I have to think of an assignment, and then grade it when they decide to hand it in. I told both kids the same thing: “You choose not to do the work I assigned, so why would I give you more work? How is that fair to your classmates who did the work they were supposed to, when they were supposed to?” That’s when the tears sprung into their eyes. I think because I am basically good-natured in class, they were not expecting me to be so inflexible on this. But I couldn’t shy away from teaching them a lesson.
So maybe English class isn’t their cup of tea. I get that. But this is a bigger issue. Even if an F goes home on the quarter grade report, maybe they’ll learn that sometimes in life, we have to do things that bore us. I wish life could be all house parties and days at the beach, I really do. But life involves a certain level of drudgery and routine for most of us, and it’s an unavoidable evil. It’s better that they learn that blowing off a required task results in an “F”, rather than a pink slip. Or that they have to explain that failure to their parents, rather than to the family of a person whose death they inadvertently caused because they didn’t pay close attention to a prescription’s directions or the instruction manual for heavy machinery. They have to learn how to learn, and deal.
So, in each case, I handed the kid a tissue and told them to go outside to get themselves together. I don’t feel badly about it, and I’m sure they muttered every expletive in their vocabulary about me. It’s a cliche to say that they’ll thank me someday, but I can send this little lesson out to the cosmos and hope that the result down the line will make each of these kids a slightly better person. I’m not holding my breath for a Thank You card, though.
Thursday, October 28, 2010
Sunday, October 24, 2010
I Feel The Earth Move Under My Feet
I have been reminded yet again by "CBS Sunday Morning" that we Californians are long overdue for The Big One, the catchphrase used for the massive earthquake that will basically level the state. The San Andreas fault runs just north of where I live, and is the geological culprit that gets the most press. But the state is rife with faults, any one of which could be ground zero for a big, destructive quake.
It’s easy to shrug it off and just go to the beach. Aside from insane real estate and traffic, life is California is enjoyable. The weather is temperate, the people are pleasant, the scenery is lovely. There’s a reason people come west to live. But it is on the cusp of several tectonic plates that are rubbing against each other, and each time a deadly earthquake hits someplace else in the world, we Californians are reminded that it’s not a matter of “if”, but “when”. And when it does happen, will we be prepared? And what will our enjoyable life be like afterward?
I didn’t live here when the Northridge quake hit, but my friends who did all have horror stories, ranging from broken plates to sudden unemployment, due to destroyed businesses. We occasionally have little trembles, but aside from being unnerving, they don’t disrupt my day that much. The Northridge quake was a 6.7 on the Richter scale, and caused billions of dollars in damage. The death toll and the damage from the Big One, potentially a 8 or above, will be unimaginable. The state will be crippled, no matter how many drills and reinforcements are put into place now.
Geologists and seismic researchers remind everyone that that there’s no way to predict a quake. They can watch the buildup of stress along a fault line, and point out where the weak points may be, but when a quake starts, there’s usually only a few seconds of rumbling before the shaking begins. We are warned to have a plan and an emergency bag. I have one with a first aid kit, some cans of tuna and some water, but it’s impossible to know what will be needed, if power and water is destroyed. My sad little red backpack doesn’t seem like it will be of much help if utilities are knocked out for weeks or even days. I also worry about my dogs’ survival. These creatures are my kids, for all intents and purposes, and how will I keep them healthy and safe in a massive disaster?
Life is a gamble, and there isn’t a place in America that isn’t prone to some kind of natural disaster, whether it be hurricane, floods, tornadoes, and crippling blizzards. All I can do is make sure I have my emergency pack and my camping equipment in a place where I can find them quickly, and just pray I’m home when it happens, so I can take care of myself and the dogs. Beyond that, I’m powerless, and I know it’s pointless to worry. Now I think I’ll go sit outside in the warm sun.
It’s easy to shrug it off and just go to the beach. Aside from insane real estate and traffic, life is California is enjoyable. The weather is temperate, the people are pleasant, the scenery is lovely. There’s a reason people come west to live. But it is on the cusp of several tectonic plates that are rubbing against each other, and each time a deadly earthquake hits someplace else in the world, we Californians are reminded that it’s not a matter of “if”, but “when”. And when it does happen, will we be prepared? And what will our enjoyable life be like afterward?
I didn’t live here when the Northridge quake hit, but my friends who did all have horror stories, ranging from broken plates to sudden unemployment, due to destroyed businesses. We occasionally have little trembles, but aside from being unnerving, they don’t disrupt my day that much. The Northridge quake was a 6.7 on the Richter scale, and caused billions of dollars in damage. The death toll and the damage from the Big One, potentially a 8 or above, will be unimaginable. The state will be crippled, no matter how many drills and reinforcements are put into place now.
Geologists and seismic researchers remind everyone that that there’s no way to predict a quake. They can watch the buildup of stress along a fault line, and point out where the weak points may be, but when a quake starts, there’s usually only a few seconds of rumbling before the shaking begins. We are warned to have a plan and an emergency bag. I have one with a first aid kit, some cans of tuna and some water, but it’s impossible to know what will be needed, if power and water is destroyed. My sad little red backpack doesn’t seem like it will be of much help if utilities are knocked out for weeks or even days. I also worry about my dogs’ survival. These creatures are my kids, for all intents and purposes, and how will I keep them healthy and safe in a massive disaster?
Life is a gamble, and there isn’t a place in America that isn’t prone to some kind of natural disaster, whether it be hurricane, floods, tornadoes, and crippling blizzards. All I can do is make sure I have my emergency pack and my camping equipment in a place where I can find them quickly, and just pray I’m home when it happens, so I can take care of myself and the dogs. Beyond that, I’m powerless, and I know it’s pointless to worry. Now I think I’ll go sit outside in the warm sun.
Thursday, October 21, 2010
Little Red Schoolhouse, Malta, Colorado
I used to drive by this place when I went to visit my parents. It always struck me as so desolate and sad, and the perfect place for a ghost or a murderer's hideout. It's located in Malta, a dot of a town near Leadville, which is itself a dot of a town. It used to be a bustling railroad stop, but now it's a depressing turn in the road, surrounded by slag heaps and debris. This schoolhouse has no sign that I could ever spot, so I never knew the history behind it, but it's clearly taken care of by someone. The view from the front door is amazing; the Twin Lakes and an unobstructed view of the Rockies. I always wondered what it would be like to have been the teacher here. It would be very cold in the winter, but lovely the rest of the year.
Sadly, my parents moved away from Chaffee County, so I have no reason to drive through Leadville anymore, but I think on my next trip to Colorado, I may take a spin through the area.
Sadly, my parents moved away from Chaffee County, so I have no reason to drive through Leadville anymore, but I think on my next trip to Colorado, I may take a spin through the area.
Sunday, October 10, 2010
New Camera
I saved some funds and used birthday money to buy a FujiFilm FinePix S2550HD camera. It’s so sweet, the nicest camera I’ve ever owned. It’s got all of the proverbial bells and whistles, which I spent a good part of last night figuring out.
I walked around the harbor today, taking photos of boats and seagulls and flowers. I felt a little self-conscious about carrying and pointing a camera, like I was a spy or lonely perv. I wanted to try the burst mode, but I felt a little shady standing in the parking lot, trying to get a photo of a flying bird. It was almost comical because the harbor is packed with seagulls, but every time I pointed the camera in one direction, a bird would fly over my head from another direction. It was almost like they were plotting together to make me spin around wildly. The final insult was when I lowered my camera, a great blue heron soared right over. I actually jumped up and down with annoyance. I’ve read that in photography, patience is as important as talent, so that’s clearly something I’m going to have to work on.
I daydream about being a freelance photographer and writer, traveling to tourist attractions and historical sites and publishing my stories. And then when I made enough money, I’d buy a sweet RV and travel the country year round, documenting and describing parks and urban projects and festivals. And then I’d win the Nobel Prize and then... OK, my daydreams do evolve to the point of delusion. I accept that. Until all that happens, I’ll post things here. Here’s my first photo.
I walked around the harbor today, taking photos of boats and seagulls and flowers. I felt a little self-conscious about carrying and pointing a camera, like I was a spy or lonely perv. I wanted to try the burst mode, but I felt a little shady standing in the parking lot, trying to get a photo of a flying bird. It was almost comical because the harbor is packed with seagulls, but every time I pointed the camera in one direction, a bird would fly over my head from another direction. It was almost like they were plotting together to make me spin around wildly. The final insult was when I lowered my camera, a great blue heron soared right over. I actually jumped up and down with annoyance. I’ve read that in photography, patience is as important as talent, so that’s clearly something I’m going to have to work on.
I daydream about being a freelance photographer and writer, traveling to tourist attractions and historical sites and publishing my stories. And then when I made enough money, I’d buy a sweet RV and travel the country year round, documenting and describing parks and urban projects and festivals. And then I’d win the Nobel Prize and then... OK, my daydreams do evolve to the point of delusion. I accept that. Until all that happens, I’ll post things here. Here’s my first photo.
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
A Day in the Life of WhizzoChocs
In Doris Lessing's novel 'The Golden Notebook', the narrator notes everything that happens to her on one day. It's a good writing exercise because it forces me to notice details and connect abstract thoughts to concrete things. So here is my day, for your reading pleasure (I assume it's for your pleasure, or you'll stop reading right now.)
I sleep through two alarms, but I'm finally nudged awake by the mutt, who must have gotten tired of listening to the beeping. It's raining, so I try to get inspired to take the dogs for a walk. I give the mutt her first dose of medicines. She has Cushing's Disease and has to take expensive but life saving meds three times a day. I scroll through Facebook and Twitter on my phone, while I sip a cup of coffee. It's Green Mountain coffee which I have delivered every six weeks. It's a luxury, but it's my one culinary indulgence. I don't spend money on good wine or food, so I can justify it. I can't put off the dog walk any longer. I dig out raincoat and Crocs for me, and wrestle the harnesses onto the dogs, who have figured out that it's raining, and yes, I'm still making them go out in it. As a tight pack, we trot up to the park and then I let them go to do their business. The mutt relieves herself quickly; the ten-pound dachshund is a little more delicate and looks at me morosely. I check the traffic report on my phone and discover that there's an accident on my route to work, so now the morning pace must be accelerated. I scoop the dachshund up, and we walk quickly back home.
I sleep through two alarms, but I'm finally nudged awake by the mutt, who must have gotten tired of listening to the beeping. It's raining, so I try to get inspired to take the dogs for a walk. I give the mutt her first dose of medicines. She has Cushing's Disease and has to take expensive but life saving meds three times a day. I scroll through Facebook and Twitter on my phone, while I sip a cup of coffee. It's Green Mountain coffee which I have delivered every six weeks. It's a luxury, but it's my one culinary indulgence. I don't spend money on good wine or food, so I can justify it. I can't put off the dog walk any longer. I dig out raincoat and Crocs for me, and wrestle the harnesses onto the dogs, who have figured out that it's raining, and yes, I'm still making them go out in it. As a tight pack, we trot up to the park and then I let them go to do their business. The mutt relieves herself quickly; the ten-pound dachshund is a little more delicate and looks at me morosely. I check the traffic report on my phone and discover that there's an accident on my route to work, so now the morning pace must be accelerated. I scoop the dachshund up, and we walk quickly back home.
I feed the dogs, make some toast, have another cup of coffee. I used to watch the comically inept local news for traffic and weather, but now that I have apps for both on my phone, I can sit in silence and darkness without the TV on. It's a nice way to gather strength for the day.
Get dressed. Decide against the outfit I picked out and opt for jeans and a thermal. My fashion style has slowly deteriorated (or evolved, depending on how you look at it) over the years. I used to wear skirts and blouses, or dresses, usually with panty hose and high heels. I now choose comfort over professional appearance, and my command of the classroom has not diminished. Take one last gulp of coffee, put a little eyeliner on, then I'm out the door.
The traffic is terrible. The accident mixed with the rain doubles my commute time. I pull into the parking lot just as the first bell is ringing and ignore the good natured ribbing I get from my students who are clustered around my door.
My first period is very funny. It's mostly boys and they're all good kids. They have a final draft of an essay to hand in, and despite my numerous reminders and warnings about excuses, my podium is rushed like I'm a vampire heartthrob by teens with a dozen stories about why they don't have their assignment. I wave them away. I've been teaching too long to listen to the same stories students have been offering since the start of civilization. Well, maybe Roman students didn't claim that their printer broke, but I'm sure their excuses were as lame and hackneyed.
I hand back a test and we go over it as a class. We're reading "Of Mice and Men", so I read aloud to them and ask questions. They seem to be enjoying it, if only for the cursing. I remind them that tomorrow is Silent Reading day. On Tuesdays and Thursdays, my five classes read a book of their choice for 15 minutes. I actually have them do it because I want to be able to read for 75 minutes, twice a week. I don't care if they like to do it or not. I'm tempted to make it a daily event, but it really does cut into class time.
Second period is my prep period. A friend and colleague emails me to ask if I can help her proctor the SATs on Saturday. I had planned to go spend the day at the Autry Museum of Western Heritage but I need the money. Besides, SAT testing is a nice block of time to get some grading done. And if I get enough grading done, I can put it aside and read the new Bill Bryson book which I just got and am enjoying very much. The museum can wait until another week, so I say yes.
Third and fourth period roll by. The juniors are reading "The Crucible". My mood sours a little as the day progresses, but I chalk it up to PMS.
At lunch, my classroom is a refuge for students trying to escape the rain. There's a nice chatter about the upcoming weekend, and Homecoming dance. A student comes to me to tell me that his stepfather has pancreatic cancer and that's why his grade is suffering. I have no reason to doubt him, so we talk about what can we do that will improve his grade without adding extra stress.Fifth and sixth period round out the day. I stay late to enter grades into the online gradebook. I think about just doing it at home, but I get so little schoolwork done at home. My attention span whittles down to nothing, and it's just easier to do as much as I can at school.
Drive home is much better than morning ride. I'm listening to "The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo" on my iPod. I really haven't been enjoying it until the last few days, where the story has picked up and it's finally interesting. I think about how thankless my job is, but then I realize that I've never heard of a job where workers get sincere thanks. Maybe that's just not something we humans should expect from our careers. Maybe the paycheck is enough.
Get home, and dogs are ecstatic to see me again. Clearly they had convinced themselves that I was never to return and they were abandoned forever. The frenzied greeting of my dogs never fails to make me smile.
I putz around on the computer, while eating hummus and crackers. The rainclouds clear out so I walk the dogs along the bike path behind my house. There are eucalyptus trees along the edge, and the smell of their wet leaves is heavenly. After we get back, I feed the dogs, pour a glass of wine, and rummage around the fridge for dinner. I've got a bunch of leftovers on the verge of going bad, so I saute some asparagus, heat up the rest of a casserole, and wash and destem a basket of strawberries. I watch the Simpsons and Scrubs and read friends' blogs.
It's now 7 p.m. Not an account of a full day, but the plan is to watch reruns of Seinfeld, then Ghost Hunters. I'll take a shower, pack a lunch, get the coffeemaker ready, and pick out something to wear. I want to get to bed early, because I'm really tired and I have the most comfortable bed I've ever slept in. I anticipate a delightful sleep.
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