Cheesy But True

Winning beginnings. How can a teacher win before she crosses the finish line? Isn’t that like counting your chickens before they hatch? I get it; the right attitude at the starting line is essential. A confident, positive, ready to show the world strategy sounds like the correct approach. But isn’t that how the hare began his race against the tortoise? And besides, that is absolutely not how I am feeling as the days leading up to the new school year seem to quickly dissipate.

I am facing some intriguing changes as I prepare for the new year.  And questions scurry through my brain like a mouse through a maze with the promise of a cheesy reward. A new principal sits in the corner office at our school. A dark cloud has perched itself over our high school for more than a year. Will our new leader bring back the sunshine? The new English curriculum, aligned with the Iowa Core, greets teachers and students this year. How will the students receive it? How will we teachers present it? Can we remain positive and persevere through this high pressure system? Three English teachers new to my district join our department of five. Will they find me congenial and helpful? Will they be effective in the classroom? I am teaching two classes new to me: English 12 and AP Literature. Will I be able to motivate my students to learn and succeed? Will I be able to tap into students’ personal gifts and convince them that they are indeed essential members of my classroom? And two questions that truly leaves me wondering: Am I up for the AP challenge? Will I be effective as a teacher of this class?

I, like so many other English teachers, have not taken the summer off. I have been writing L to J tests, I have taken the AP training, and I am engrossed in the process of preparing. I guess my current efforts resemble that of the tortoise. I need to call upon his tenacity, his drive, his will to succeed. However, I am also concerned that this slow and steady pace will put my students to sleep and leave me with course outcomes and components untaught and untested at the end of the year. I fear that once the chaos of the year is upon me, I will be unlike the hare or the tortoise, and will more closely resemble the mouse scurrying through the maze trying to remember where I put that quiz or expo marker.

It’s time to take a deep breath, to remember why I teach, to remember what motivates me, to call upon that impalpable yet interminable energy. The source of that intangible vivacity is not impalpable at all. It walks, it talks, and I can attach names to it. That ebullience belongs to my students. Like almost all educators, my students stimulate my desire to teach, to wake up every work day morning, to haul my tired body into the school building. Their collective minds inspire me. I cannot control the cloud hanging over my school. I only know it will dissipate in my classroom. With the assistance of my students, winning beginnings take all forms and attitudes. Sometimes I will be tenacious, sometimes I will be confident, and sometimes I will scurry around looking for those cheesy rewards. So bring on the challenges of the new school year. As long as my students continue to learn, continue to greet me with their frank questions, and as long as I am able to create an atmosphere where everyone is welcome to show and use their individual geniuses, my beginning will assure that they, my students, are the winners. So I will indeed count on all my eggs to hatch into students ready to tackle life in the twenty-first century.

Robin McHone Hundt has been teaching for almost 20 years, ten of those in Glenwood. She has taught sixth through twelfth grade English, Communications, and Journalism classes. Prior to moving to Glenwood, Hundt taught in Virginia Beach, VA; Des Moines, IA; Atchison, KS; Kearney, NE; and Council Bluffs, IA. This year she is teaching English 12, AP Literature, and Communications. In addition, Mrs. Hundt coaches the mock trial team She graduated from the University of Iowa with a double major in journalism/mass communications and English. Before becoming a teacher, she worked in public relations, advertising, and printing. Hundt earned her English teaching certification from Virginia Wesleyan University. She is married to Bryan and has three children: Jimmy, 23; Sami,17; and Allie 14. She also has an ancient German Short-hair named Gauge.

Why I Assign Seats

I cringe when the topic of assigned seats comes up in teacher conversations. There seems to be a right answer from a desirable teacher: “I don’t assign seats. I allow the kids to choose until there is a problem—it shows that I trust them. And I don’t have management problems.” Of course that’s the class I would have wanted to be in as a junior in high school: I liked being trusted, and I wanted to sit by my friends.

But there’s more to a classroom environment than managing unruly behavior. It’s a delicate place; if students don’t feel secure, they cannot learn. While I can’t manage another person’s confidence, I can prop up a kid’s worth with one small step: a seat.

*     *     *

I am twelve. It is the first day of seventh grade. I’ve been reading Seventeen magazine to prepare for this day, to make sure my clothes are up to snuff for the merging of six elementary schools and hopefully winning some new friends. I currently have none. After playing the cruel popularity game only sixth grade girls can master, and losing in a way that only sixth grade bookworms can, I was booted over the summer. The eternal optimist inside knows that this is a chance to reinvent myself and find a place I actually belong. The reader inside knows that things could get a whole lot worse if I’m not careful.

Knee socks and pleated skirts are in. I’ve saved some babysitting money to buy a navy and forest green pleated skirt that buttons up the front. My loafers are from Payless but it’s not too obvious. I board the bus, take a deep breath, and sit near the back but not in the back: the cool kids don’t sit in the front, but accidentally challenging someone’s assigned seat will not put me on the path to popularity.

The bus stops at the high school, and I change buses to get to the middle school. As I walk, I notice tall beautiful girls, dressed in basically the same outfit as me. But they look SO much better. I analyze. The dread thickens in my stomach. It’s not just that their sweaters are round and full. Their skirts are short! Their knees are showing! There is no skin gap between my skirt and socks. I look like a child.

I find my next bus, scamper up the stairs, and accidentally make eye contact with one of the eighth grade girls clustered at the back. She looks directly at me and laughs out loud. I will later learn her name, and understand that she is cruel and empty-hearted, but right now this doesn’t matter. I scrunch down in my seat and try to make a plan.

When I arrive at school, I avoid eye contact and make a beeline for the bathroom. My brilliant solution: unbutton the top few buttons and roll down the top of my skirt, using my sweater to cover the strange bunch that now resides. It’s not too obvious. At least my knees are showing.

The first bell rings: I now have only five minutes to figure out my locker and get to class. I am never this late when it comes to school. Thankfully, I am able to avoid my locker partner, and my locker clicks open on the first try. As I run down the hall to homeroom, my skirt starts to slip, but I hold it in place with one hand as I step through the door. The bell rings. I look around for a friendly face. Mr. Sprott stretches to see over the podium, glances at his seating chart, and his nasally voice says, “You must be Brenna Griffin. You’ll sit there behind Lindsey Greenwood.” I quickly slide into my desk.

It is the first time that morning that I know who I am.

*     *     *

I don’t belabor my perspective in these conversations; everyone has a method and an approach that may work in the environment they desire to create. I just can’t do it any other way; I feel this one in the bones of memory.

As the year goes on, I may turn some of the task of creating a community over to my students, asking them to create inclusive, interesting groups and arrangements. But the first day the responsibility is all mine. I want my room to say: you have a place here. This is where you belong.

Brenna Griffin teaches ninth graders English in Cedar Falls, Iowa. Enjoying all hobbies of a stereotypical English teacher, she is rejuvenated and challenged by the teenage mind. She lives with her husband and two-year old daughter.

Do and Do Not; You Can Always Try Again Tomorrow

I know you.

There’s a list in your head, right? A list of things you want to achieve, a list of things you swear you’ll never do, an infinite amount of possibilities orbiting around your head.

Your eyes are just a touch too wide, your outfit carefully chosen, your smile nervous but charming.

Tomorrow, or next week or next month, you are going to walk into your very own classroom and introduce yourself to your students.  You will be a teacher. It is a moment to savor.

Then the bell rings, the students storm the building, and you are not just a teacher in name, but in practice.

To be honest, the anticipation never really goes away—every year a small tingle begins in my fingertips as I walk past the ‘Back to School’ aisle at Target, turning into an itch to visit my classroom, until it’s the night before school starts and I struggle to sleep, anxious and excited to see what the new year will bring.

That list in your head? It’s in my head too. It never goes away. Teaching is a vocation with an inexhaustible spring of inspiration. Channeling that inspiration can be in turns exhausting, intimidating, and exhilarating. Though I do not claim to be any sort of master teacher, I humbly offer a list of some do’s and do not’s compiled from the six years I have spent in the classroom:

§  Do try new things and create lessons that you believe will inspire your students. This seems obvious, but often there is a set agenda and that agenda is not always in line with your principles. If you need to step back from the assigned curriculum and create something you believe will benefit the learners, do it.

§  Don’t be disappointed when some of your ideas blow up in spectacular fashion. Despite careful planning, things sometimes go inexplicably wrong. There isn’t a teacher alive who doesn’t still have this happening on a semi-regular basis. Trying new things takes courage; have the courage to continue trying.

§  Do develop a network of positive people who will support and encourage your progress. One of the biggest mistakes I made when I transitioned to teaching high school was that I stayed in my classroom rather than seeking out my peers. If there isn’t a time scheduled for you to meet with teachers, go and find them.  It is worth the effort and will help keep morale up as you hit a wall in the spring and start praying for May to come quickly.   

§  Don’t hold a grudge. Students are going to do things, like cheat on an assignment, treat their classmates poorly and treat you poorly. If they are going to learn something from those mistakes and continue to learn something in your class, they need to be forgiven. That does not mean that the transgression should be ignored. They deserve to know that you are angry, disappointed or sad, but they also deserve to know that you haven’t stopped trying to teach them.

§  Do ask a million questions. Ask where the teaching supply closet is (if there is one). Ask for names of students, staff in the office and the janitors, even if you’ve asked three times before. Ask what works best for other teachers when you are at a loss. Ask how you can improve. Ask until someone tells you to stop—because no one has ever told me to stop. Don’t worry that you are annoying someone; there are plenty of people in a school you can ask.

§  Don’t forget to take time away from teaching for yourself. Teaching follows you home from work, whether in the physicality of papers to grade or in the mental anguish about a particular student or lesson.  It is vital that you have other priorities and activities to occupy your time, or else teaching will consume you and you may come to resent how much it asks of you.

§  Do keep a journal of your best and worst days; both are equally helpful. Writing down frustrations will ease your anger and hopefully allow you to sleep at night. Writing down proud moments will remind you that you are having an impact and building relationships with students. There are 180 days in a school year—you will make a mistake at least once every single day. You will also probably quadruple the amount of good you do just by being dedicated to this profession and greeting your students every morning with a smile.

Good luck. I wish you the very best as you begin your journey.  

Sarah Hayes will be starting her seventh year as an English teacher this fall. She currently teaches at Xavier High School in Cedar Rapids, Iowa. She currently teaches sophomore English and AP Literature and Composition. You can read her musings on literature and teaching on her blog: http://misshayesteaches.wordpress.com/ or follow her teacher twitter @mshayesteaches

An Epilogue to a Former Disaster

I was an annoyingly eager 22-year-old over-achiever when I made my first attempt at teaching.  I knew in the moment that I was doing a lot of things right:  my lessons were thoroughly planned, my expectations were intense, I had variety and spice programmed into each day, but I made a mess of it all in no time flat.

I was terrible with classroom management.  I was sassy when questioned by parents, colleagues, or administrators.  I burnt myself out by working from 6am-6pm each day, skipping lunch, and making sure I wrote a novel on each essay.  Although I was above-average at building relationships with students, I quickly fell out of love with the process of teaching.

I was very invested in my students’ lives and I took their struggles, both academic and otherwise, personally, and I forgot that teaching is much more than just throwing creative darts against a wall hoping for a bullseye.  Even if they are creative darts, you can only survive chaos for so long. 

My frustration with certain students became very transparent; my patience waned to a point that I was getting bitter at an alarming speed.  Outside factors definitely contributed to this including censorship issues with parents and athletes expecting special treatment, but I had lost sight of my job.

I mistakenly thought my role was to make everyone love literature and writing as much as I did.  I wanted everyone to weep when they read Hemingway and want to be David Sedaris’ next best friend.  I couldn’t see that perhaps my job was simply to inspire my D- students to achieve a C…and I couldn’t see that I was dampening the experience for both my students and myself with this strive for perfection.

So I left. And I was at peace with it.

Now I am older, and I realize after living through the stumbles and falls of the real world that “winning” is about much more than getting 100%.  It is this knowledge, and the specter of my love for literature, that has me going back. 

This fall, I am opening a classroom door to sixtyish 6^th graders who will test my patience, be apathetic about my lessons, and will not all succeed, at least in a traditional sense.  The difference now is that I am okay with this and it doesn’t frighten me anymore. 

Age has brought a different type of confidence in me, one not born of the arrogance and misguided perfection of youth, but one constructed out of hope and trust.  I believe that I will impact each of my students in a positive way.  I know that my students will leave my classroom in May more literate than when they came.  If I am lucky, many will even move on inspired and focused and enlightened. 

I’m ready to win under these circumstances, and I am ready to teach in a way that will make this happen.  I’m not the same teacher I was before, the one who was dead-set on perfecting every child, now I am taking the Alexandra approach and blazing a new trail…maybe not in a Nebraskan farmland…but in providing opportunities for each student to be themselves, but better, at least for 90 minutes a day when they’re with me. 

Britt Jungck is a literacy teacher at Bunger Middle School in Waterloo. After a ten year hiatus in the world of workforce development and grant writing, she is returning to her first love this year...literature. She has three sons, three dogs, a cat and runs long distances to avoid doing all the laundry haunting her in her basement.

Day 1 Activity

I never start my year with rules or procedures. That first day of school is miserable for so many kids because suddenly:

• They can’t go to the bathroom whenever they want.
• They can’t use their phone/technology whenever and

however they want.

• They have to sit up and “pay attention” for eight hours.

That’s why I always err on the side of an intellectually stimulating activity that also has a physically interactive side. For example, the “spaghetti/marshmallow tower” project. Full disclosure: I adapted this activity from Tom Wujec’s Marshmallow Experiment research. I start out by letting them select their own groups of three. Two could work, but four is too many! Next, the students are given 20 strands of spaghetti, one yard of tape, one yard of string, and one jumbo-sized marshmallow. The goal is to build the largest free-standing tower that can stand for at least 60-seconds following the 10 minute building period.

I require them to be silent for the first seven minutes of construction. This non-verbal communication twist is totally ripped off from my Odyssey of the Mind days. Silence does a few things for me on an observation level; I can see who my leaders and followers are. I can see who is bursting at the seams to play and who feels tentative about participating. Where are my prototype builders at? No, no you can’t use the string to connect your tower to the ceiling….remember: free-standing? There is an energy to the silence.

What I start to see is who they can be if they are playing rather than playing school. I did not offer a grade or a prize; I offered a challenge. This past year, the winning teams got their picture tweeted out. The grand-champions of the whole day received stickers on day two. However, these prizes were not offered as incentive for participation.

And then the kicker: HOMEWORK! One question: Why would Miss Huggins start the year out with this project? I encourage the students to consider what day one is usually like in school. I encourage them to consider what they already know about being in school and how this project fits into their existing knowledge. I require 200 words - EXACTLY. Not one more or one less. Again, give them something concrete, give them something achievable, set them up for success. If you want a winning beginning, let them know that you mean business, but you don’t mean business as usual.

Elizabeth Huggins is the new Co-Coordinator for Glenwood's alternative high school. Previously, she taught English at Atlantic High School. Huggins is completing her Masters in the Art of Teaching with Morningside College. She recently accepted the position as social media coordinator for the Iowa Council of Teachers of English. Over the last six years, Huggins has presented at learning camps, tech conferences and the ICTE annual conference. She has a four-pound dog named Mrs. Mildred Featherbottom.

Beginnings

7/15/14

It's the middle of July and summer is almost over. Back-to-school inservice starts one month from today. The recurring nightmares will start in a few weeks.

Every year it's a variation on the same theme. New students drive me crazy to the point where one of two things happen: I start sobbing uncontrollably and run from my classroom in tears, or I spew venomous four letter words until the kids are the ones crying. Neither of these scenarios foster enthusiasm for the new year, but it will be my ninth year of teaching, so at least I know they're coming and how to ignore them. What do they mean? An overactive imagination and crippling social anxiety combined with a fear of finding the balance between tyrannical strength and paralyzing weakness is my best guess. My dreams have always leaned toward anxious, and this persistent August nightmare is the adult version of the ones that used to plague my undergrad days. I had no reason to fear I wouldn't graduate then, and no reason to fear I'm a terrible teacher now.

Waking up from one of these dreams is terrifying at first, but over the years it's evolved into excitement. The dreams signify my official start to the new school year; they mean I'm ready to dive in again. One of my favorite parts of teaching is the idea that we get New Year's twice a year, whereas those suckers with "real" jobs only get them in January. The resolutions I make in August are similar to the traditional ones; they're designed to make me better. Except in January, most resolutions are self-centered, focusing only on me as a person. In August, my resolutions focus on how to be a better teacher for my students.

It starts with the room. Same four walls, same desks, same windows and perennial ant infestation, but the rest is at mercy to my effort and resourcefulness (or lack thereof). I'm a messy person by nature, and my classroom reflects that. At the beginning of the year I take time to cover my walls using copious amounts of sticky tack and laminated words of wisdom. They start to fall one at a time throughout the year. By March I give up the battle of climbing on shelves to re-stick them. The walls don't need to be perfect by then. We've accomplished enough that the kids don't need to be dazzled by what's on the walls nearly as much as by what's happening within them. No amount of decorating will make me a better (or worse) teacher.

After I've settled into my room, the real beginnings take form. Consolidating sticky notes both paper and digital from various locations, checking through articles and books, looking at last year's lesson plans, all with one guiding purpose in mind: What will I do differently this year? What worked? What didn't? What do I want to try for the first time? What do I never want to do again? What could be better with more attention on my part? Where am I weak as a teacher and how can I change? I won't be perfect and neither will all of my ideas, but this process at the beginning of each year keeps me moving forward.

For now it's still July. I still have a stack of books, both personal and professional to wade through before school starts. I still have lazy days and vacation adventures ahead. But the nightmares will be coming soon, and with them the reminder to make myself better this year. The fear is healthy; it keeps me reflecting. I'm not a weakling, I'm not a tyrant. I'm a teacher, trying to be a little better each year.

***Missy Springsteen-Haupt teaches 7th and 8th grade language arts at Clarion-Goldfield Middle School. She loves devouring books in any genre. Missy writes personal narratives about her life, but has been known to experiment with terrible poetry and science fiction stories. She recently earned her MA in the English:TESS program from UNI. Her professional interests are focus on student writing and creating a positive response environment. She feels awkward writing about herself in third person for biographic purposes.

Welcome

Welcome to our new page of teacher writings. ICTE is excited to start this process of sharing teacher content, as we feel that writers and readers alike will benefit from what we're doing here. We want our students to write to think, write to communicate, and write to share; we should want no less for ourselves. This blog gives all of us a space to do that and a community in which to find support.

For those interested in contributing, please visit the "Invitation to Write" page on the ICTE website, where you will find a submission form and contact information. We would love to have your voice be a part of the discussion. If you have any questions or suggestions at all, feel free to send them to shannondykstra@gmail.com.

Our first writing topic is "Winning Beginnings." Much of the content you will see initially addresses reflections, plans, goals, or suggestions for starting the year off well. We've had a lot of great submissions, and there is still time for you to add your thoughts for this crucial time of the school year.

This page is an idea that has evolved over the last couple of months, and I anticipate seeing it continue to evolve as we determine the best format and setup to share these teacher writings. I'm excited to see the path it takes.

Thanks for joining us here on the site. Read much, write often, and share like crazy. Your fellow English teachers stand with you, armed with the power of the written word.

Shannon Dykstra
ICTE Web Content Editor