Moving is almost as hard as teaching.

I'll supply details once I catch my breath and have regular access to internet.

My brain was exhausted when I went into class today. I had slept only three hours a night for two nights in a row, and I was worn out when I headed into class. I am not complaining. I played last weekend, and I paid for it the last two nights.

Class was pretty horrible. I just didn't feel like fighting them today. I let them get away with misbehavior, and they took advantage of it. Because of that, my test review wasn't beneficial for much of the class. They ended up doing okay on the test, but they missed questions that were directly addressed in the Jeopardy style review game we played. When they misbehave, they don't learn.

I had set a big goal that if my students got an 80% class average on the final test, I would come in the next day with a mohawk. I had to throw out a question that required knowledge I didn't teach them. With that question gone, they ended up with a class average of 81%. They don't need to know this quite yet though.

I have two days with my students. I think it would be foolish to believe that they will learn anything in the next two days if I come in with a mohawk, and tell them they achieved the big goal. They won't have any motivation. Tomorrow, I am going to tell them they got a 79%, but that I am willing to make a deal. If they all hand in their completed outlines for the writing project we are working on by the end of lunch, I'll get the mohawk for Friday.

In other news, I got my class assignments from Northwestern High School in Miami. I am teaching Freshmen "World Geography and Culture" and Juniors "American History." I am thrilled with these assignments.

I think teaching will be much better when I have a reliable source of appetizing caffeine.

I am up at five in the lovely Moody towers of the University of Houston. I shower, shave, dress, and head downstairs for a toasted bagel with cream cheese, hard boiled eggs, and perhaps some fresh fruit. It is usually a fine morning, because I can't wait to see my students at West Briar Middle School. But, I need a little coffee.

The university cafe provides the worst coffee in the entire world. It is served in three huge brown receptacles that are crosses between gatorade dispensers for football teams, and trashcans. Using the spigot, I flush myself a serving into a styrofoam cup. This process is repeated three times until I find the receptacle that contains the least cold coffee in it. It is sort of like the lottery, because they switch least crappy coffee receptacle everyday.

And the taste! It is something between the outside of automobile tires and stale cough medicine. I have always taken my coffee black, even in 7-11s, but I have started adding two packets of cream and sugar to neutralize the horror.

The thing is, I need the caffeine. So before I get on the bus, I force the liquid down. I stand next to the trashcan gulping, waiting to throw it away where it belongs.

"So, you had your first," said my faculty advisor with a sly smile. I had just finished telling her about my the last part of my class today, which no one had observed. I had gotten a little heated. My class went something like this:

After their Do Now, I gave my students a little bit of a lecture, but I made sure I didn't talk down to my students. I try to always treat them like adults. I was video-taped the day before and I talked frankly about what I noticed when I watched the video at home. I noticed that a lot of side comments were being made, but that these side comments didn't really distract me from my instruction. I asked the class if they knew what a side-comment was, and they did. I told them that when I watched the video, it was obvious that although I wasn't distracted by the side comments, every student sitting around the student making the side comment was distracted, and that that just wasn't fair.

I told them what I told "Jake" yesterday on the way to lunch. "I don't discipline all of you to teach you the difference between right and wrong. I know that you all know how to behave, because you are all adults. That sort of discipline is for elementary school. No - wait - that sort of discipline is for puppy trainers. This is not puppy training. I discipline because I don't think anyone has the right to waste the time of anyone else in my class. So, today, I want no side comments, and I plan on moving quickly up the consequence poster."

10 minutes in, before I even had them in groups, Jake had a resolution receipt, the second tier of my consequence system. Jake served a detention for his behavior yesterday, and he had written me 15 sentences explaining how he would behave better thereafter. He was dissapointing me today, and he was distracting other normally attentive students.

(Let me just stop to say I love Jake. He is incredibly bright, and there isn't a shy bone in his body. In the conversations I have had with him, he has been incredibly honest with me about his mother's illness and his cultural heritage. He is a good writer and thinker, but he wants the attention of a class clown. His siblings, on either side of him, are overachievers. He is one of my favorites.)

As I am working one-on-one with another student, I look over, and Jake is tussling with another student. I give them a second to stop, and they don't. I can tell it is just play, but I stand up and release a very audible sigh. "Jake, let go of him and GO...OUT...SIDE." The class was quieter than they had ever been. This was not something they had been expecting from a rookie. Jake started to protest. A little softer, a little slower, yet still firm, I continued, "I am very mad right now. I want you to go outside until I can cool off." The class was still silent. Jake left the room quickly, and the students got back to work. I continued to monitor the class, ignoring Jake at the door window.

When I met Jake outside a few minutes later, I completely switched my tone from one who is mad, to one who is honestly hurt (this was a strategy suggested by a teacher I had observed in March). "I am sorry I raised my voice with you. I was very mad." "It's okay," he said, "My mom does it all the time." "Why were you behaving like that today?" I asked. "I mean, you wrote me that essay yesterday about how you were going to try and act your best. I am sorry for getting mad, but I just get so upset when I see another student get in the way of their classmates' learning."

He was honestly sorry. The matter was resolved quickly, and I hope, permanently. I had had my "first," as my faculty advisor had said. I blew up, flipped my lid, went off, etc. Right now, it doesn't feel good. After today, I think that Jake and my class fear me, and that is not the relationship I want with my students. I want my class free of misbehavior, but I don't want them learning under a dictatorship. It's a tough balance sometimes.

I am going to apologize tomorrow, and try to make graphs interesting and relevant.

I think it is okay to let your students have some fun. They are kids.

Yesterday they had to do a "gallery walk" where they walked between 7 stations in the classroom, learning about the 7 geographic regions of Texas. Not too much fun. My teaching coach encouraged me to push my kids higher on Bloom's Taxonomy, so I experimented a little bit at the end of the lesson. I had each walking group of 3 create a rhyme for a specific region, which involves higher order thinking. In their rhyme, they had to include: the name of the region, it's location (north, south, etc.), and one feature of it.

Last night I placed the 7 rhymes in order, creating a rap for my class. They were begging to rap it first this morning, but I insisted on "introducing the new material" myself. First, I had to give an interesting mini-lesson on dialect, explaining that the rap language is one dialect, and that when they interview for a job, or write a paper for Mr. Pierson, they should not use it. I didn't touch the issue of Black English, because I did not want to get sidetracked. I had Kelley tap the beat on a table. Dimitri insisted on beatboxing and I didn't see the harm. I rapped like a true white boy, starting with an intro that was something like this: "Yo yo yo. Moore to the max up in here. All the way from Washington to the WB (West Briar Middle School)." They all laughed, and I knew I had them hooked.

You have to be careful about including fun activities, because they must be tied to your objective. I think I was able to accomplish that. My objectives were: SWBAT locate the 7 regions of TX on a map, and SWBAT describe features of each region. Next to each verse I included a map of Texas with the specific region shaded in. They were also engaged in literacy, because I made them read along as volunteers (so many volunteers) rapped the song.

The teacher next door was giving a test, and had to come over to tell me to quiet it down. We did, but part of me was glad we were making a ruckus. Today, it was okay for my students to be loud. When I grade their quizzes tomorrow, I'll know if they retained the information. The "Seven Regions Rap" is below, written entirely by my wonderful seventh grade class.

Panhandle Plains, in the North,
Beef, wheat, and cotton is what we put forth.

We in Hill Country
Where Austin is the city.
We have a lotta hills,
But they all staying still.

Prairies and Lakes is very calm,
We don’t have earthquakes in this darn song.
Yes we in the Northeast.
The Biggest. The Baddest.
The Biggest Baddest Beast.

Piney Woods, in the East.
Beaumont and Tyler: Cities with the Beat.

We boyz in da hood, riding in our Lexus
Goin on over, to the East side of Texas
Gulf Coast! Gulf Coast!
Beaches and Trees,
Everybody in White Tees.
Oil Fields! Oil Fields!

South Texas Plains, in the South,
Cactus, fruits, and veggies, in ya mouth!

Big Bend Country, ya heard West Side,
The canyons, the Rio, where we reside.