Learning to Teach

2009-08-06T14:16:00.000-07:00

Thanks for visiting Learning to Teach.

I don't make posts here anymore because I no longer teach. Still, I hope this blog entertains, educates, and inspires young teachers out there. If you would like to get a sense of how teaching goes in an inner-city environment, it's best to skim the posts from the beginning.

If you want to follow me now, please visit www.lawschoolisfunny.blogspot.com.

John

2007-10-10T21:06:00.000-07:00

I teach "regular," honors and AP US history this year. I hate the term "regular" but it's what students, administrators, and faculty refer to them as.

Anyways, my regular students are disgustingly behind my other students. I honestly wonder what they have been learning in school for 10 years. Clearly not much. I don't mean to make them sound stupid, because they are anything but. Their sense of humor, capacity to relate to the material, and personalities astound me. However, many cannot write a gramatically correct sentence. I truly realized how bad it was this week because I'm trying to teach them the 5 paragraph essay.

I design this great activity to teach them about a thesis, topic sentences, details, and concluding sentences and realize many cannot write a sentence with a subject and verb. I love teaching American History, but I'm thinking about focusing solely on writing with my regular students.

This is my first post in awhile. I'm going to do more short posts.

John

2007-03-20T18:57:00.000-07:00

Check out my powerpoints. From Reconstruction to World War Two.

http://homepage.mac.com/johnemoore1/FileSharing1.html

John

2006-12-05T18:39:00.000-08:00

Sometimes I delude myself into thinking that Mr. Moore has become a very different person than John. Mr. Moore thinks American History is neato and that writing essays is a magical journey. He walks into Miami Northwestern Senior High School each morning with the same bagel sandwich (onions, dijon mustard, spinach, turkey and swiss cheese), carrots, granola bar, Dirty Brand potato chips, and banana, all layered haphazardly in a plastic grocery sack. He says good morning to faculty, greets a student or two, and steps into a third floor room on the Northeast corner of the school. There's a fabulous view of 95, and in winter, the sun blinds him when he opens the hurricane shutters.

But why do I have this desire - or perhaps need - to talk in the third person? It's me opening the hurricane shutters. I look in my drawer for chalk. I like holding chalk. That's right, I like holding a new piece of chalk, probably the same way my father likes holding a nail between his teeth when measuring a piece of wood. And I like "putting up my board;" writing the Do Now, Objective, and Agenda in my best handwriting, which still manages to look childish.

It's so quiet at 7:20. Then, they pour in, and before I know it, it's 9:10. I no longer dream that they all got all of it. But I hope that Brandon can tell someone how the president checks the congress through a veto. I'm not frustrated when Jennifer assures me on her exit quiz that the executive branch can impeach the president. At least she knows someone can impeach him. Then it's the federalist versus anti-federalists. On to the Louisiana purchase and before you know it, it's 1860 and South Carolina is seceding. But every morning, I'm carrying the same lunch into work and looking at the same empty chalk board.

Is Mr. Moore really, as they say, Mr. Bore? Am I boring? Is this really the life I want to be living? When I ponder my life here, I have serious doubts.

"Oh no," they assure me, "You are making a difference!" If one more person tells me I'm making a difference, I am going to chew sticks of chalk and spray that chalk board with the contents of my mouth. And I'll do it in front of my students!

Don't get me wrong. I believe I am making a difference, but I don't cherish the thought, and it doesn't give me comfort or the strength to go on.

I know its foolish to write in the third person about Mr. Moore. That's me in the classroom. It's my work. But it's been hard to accept, so I've been pretending that the illustrious John (who's coming out with a book deal soon) is biding his time while Mr. Moore does his thing. I'm accepting the fact that we're the same person, but I'm having a very hard time trying to figure out what happens when Mr. Moore bides his time while John does his thing.

2006-08-30T20:43:00.000-07:00

I just spent 15 minutes cleaning my New Balance 45$ sneakers. I washed them with hot water and an old sock before whitening them with an applicator. I have been wearing my $45 K-Swisses (white) for the whole school year. However, I thought it was time for a change. (Sidenote: I got both pairs for a two-for-one deal at Foot Locker last September)

You gotta look good when you walk into Northwestern. The students do their best to look fly. The librarians wear makeup. African American english teachers sport heels and do their hair. The principle looks like an Armani advertisement during the week. Everyone (except the mal-adjusted shop teacher) takes a good look in the mirror before coming to school. We try to look good.

But I don't think looking good is the same thing as looking professional. When I try to look "professional" I end up looking like an eight-year-old going to Sunday school. That's not a good look to have going into Northwestern. Students will crack on me if I look like that. So, I wear jeans and collared shirts and that's that. I feel comfortable, I look good, and my students are achieving. But I noticed something today. My shoes were kind of dirty.

So, I whitened my New Balances. Tomorrow, I will look "so fresh and so clean." My kicks will be nice and crisp. Looks aren't everything, but Northwestern has taught me that looks are important.

Mr. Moore

Don't get me wrong. All of my students still see me as a complete nerd, and they are absolutely correct.

Mr. Moore

PS We had a tropical storm named Ernesto. It was weak, and everything is okay.

2006-08-21T17:19:00.000-07:00

I taught a really good lesson today. The objectives were: SWBAT describe Spanish exploration & SWBAT analyze primary sources.

I have already lectured on Columbus, so they had some background knowledge. The Do Now question was "Was Columbus a hero, villain, or something in between? Support your opinion with details." The responses revealed a lot of myths they had about Columbus (that he brought slaves, and believed the earth was flat). Students had to share out, and when called upon, tell what their partner said about the question.

Then I did a word web on "seminar." Seminar (noun)---Def: A group of advanced students doing research and presenting their results. ---Syn: meeting, forum, discussion. Examples---1) Senior seminars in class 2) Today's lesson.

I assume that all my students are going to college in class and treat it as a rule that they are. I will not hold any lower expectation for any of them. I explained about freshmen lectures in huge auditoriums and compared it to my lecture from last week. Then I explained that seminars were where real meaningful learning takes place.

We read a section from Columbus' log together. They were quick to believe everything he wrote, and I had to remind them of Author's purpose. In the log, Columbus seems like a real sweet guy who just wants to show the natives the way to Jesus. I had them "research" three other documents on their own, explaining that they would have to share their "results" during the upcoming seminar.

There was a section from "In Defense of the Indian" by Las Casas that was great. One of the most popular descriptions was of the Spaniards cutting hands off of Indians but leaving a little bit of skin so they hung from their wrists. During the silent reading, some students actually gasped or laughed out loud at that part. There was also a reading about Coronado being misled by natives about the cities of gold, and a revisionist named Stannard lambasting Columbus as a typically racist European.

I had prepared discussion questions for the same reading with AP, so I used them again. The seminar opened with one minute rounds (everyone has to say something that interested them, but they cant's speak for more than a minute). Amazingly, only one student responded with the typical "nothing interested me." The seminar went very well which made me feel great. One of my biggest weaknesses is generating discussion.

We closed with "Pick a Side." I wrote two extreme opinions on the board like so: 1)Door: Columbus was a racist European responsible for the onset of a genocide 2) Window: Columbus wanted to establish friendly relations with the Native Americans in order to show them the way to Jesus. Students had to stand next to the door, window, or somewhere in between. It was a nice connection back to the Do Now question. I think I met the objectives pretty well.

In other news, I am loving preparing lectures for AP. I found three packages of trancparencies that I am picking and choosing from. I am learning/remembering so much about early American history, and I am working my AP students to death.

John

2006-08-14T15:51:00.000-07:00

My school has a smell, a noise, and a rhythm that is unmistakeable. I wouldn't say there is no other place I'd rather be. Mexico was nice, and I prefer watching VH1 than grading student writing. However, I have felt this week - perhaps arrogantly - like a pro.

I didn't get nearly as ahead as I could have in my planning days. My room is very orderly and efficient, but it lacks color. To be blatantly sexist, it lacks a feminine touch that I simply do not have. There are positive messages (Typed in MS Word. Courier Bold is the font), but if I could describe it one word, it would have to be "accountability." It is clear when you walk in, that work and learning take place there. Expectations are high.

I came off like a mean guy last year, and I am anything but. This year, I have been 90% honest and open with my students. I tell them about Teach for America, my educational background, and the expectations I hold for them and myself.

Here's an excerpt from my AP US History syllabus:
Expectations of Students:
You are expected to take on the responsibilities of a high achieving college student. This means:
Reading before you come to class: 40-60 pages every week
Taking notes and studying them: You will be quizzed on everything you read, so it is important to fully digest the information from the text.
Writing essays: Approximately 1 per unit
Creating flashcards: 500 before the course is over!
Participating: Coming to class with questions prepared, and contributing to discussions.

What you can Expect from Me:
Accountability: I will provide accountability by giving you a graded quiz once a week, regularly assigned essays, and at least 4 AP style tests before the exam on May 11. I will update and post grades every 7-10 days.
Preparedness: I will come to class with additional notes, topics for discussion, and activities that promote your historical thinking and writing skills.
Support: I will do whatever is in my power to help you on your way to becoming a high achieving collegian.

Shawn Chamberson came in late on Thursday after not having shown up on Tuesday. I knew his type as soon as he walked in: insecure but would never admit it, smart, funny, and about 2 inches from blowing up in my face if I pushed him too hard too fast. He tried, unsuccessfully, to take a seat without me assigning him one, and was pretending to be asleep 5 minutes later (legs sprawled, mouth open). I would have made a big fuss last year, but I've learned better. I quietly placed the assignment sheet on his nose.

I made all my classes laugh multiple times in the first week. It's so easy. I try a joke out in 1st period, and use it over all day long. Doing our first KWLs, my students were shy about saying what they knew about American History. Whenever they made a point, even if it was as simple as "Slaves came from Africa" I would yell somewhat orgasmically "yeeeeaah." They think I'm crazy. Especially before a quiz, when I ask them to be quiet. "Can you hear it Dyshonette? Shhhhh. Listen. Chooka Chooka Chooka Chooooo Choooo! It's the A train, coming through!" They give me stares like I am the antithesis of cool, but I know they like it.

I'm teaching AP and Honors which is wonderful, because I am seeing a side of Northwestern that I didn't know existed last year. AP is like a whole other prep. There is so much material and so little time. I am treating it like a college level class and so far, the students are responding. More updates soon.

Mr. Moore

2006-07-15T09:43:00.000-07:00

This will be my last blog from Mexico.

We went to Monte Alban, a ruin site 40 minutes from the city of Oaxaca. It was my second favorite ruin behind Palenque. Three valleys converge around Oaxaca, and the vistas from the temples and castles at Monte Alban were gorgeous. It was pleasant just to get out of the city. Oaxacans really enjoy using their car horns. We returned about 2, and had a great cheap lunch at a vegetarian hamburger place. We spent the early evening checking out art museums and galleries. I am not a fan of contemporary Oaxacan art, but I do like the 20th century stuff. Rudolfo Morales is one of my favorites. Students marched around town, creating havoc on the bus system, as it was reported the next day.

Kathy talked to some of the protestors camping out on the Zocalo. Since teachers have gone back to work, administrators and office staff from Oaxaca state have taken over the campout. There is only one newspaper (Las Noticias) that is giving any coverage to the protests and dissapearances. Outsideof Oaxaca, few Mexicans have any idea of what happened.

We caught a first class 6 hour bus to Mexico City the next morning. It was satisfying to be on the final leg of our trip. The bus ride showed Finding Nemo, Today you Die (con Steven Seagal), and Hitchikers guide to Paradise. The first and last were dubbed, so I read Kavalier and Clay the whole way...great book, historically based.

Mexico City feels like New York to me. It is a mass of cars, department stores, markets, and street hustlers. Someone is always hawking their wares, but after about an hour their calls slip anonymously in to the rest of the city´s noise. Here is an abbreviated list of what they sell: bubbles, children´s music, socks, wrestling masks, hotdogs (3for $1!), umbrellas, gift bags, watches, and wind up mice. I love Mexico City in the same way that I love NewYork. As a gringo, you must be on guard against hustlers, but the bustle is invigorating.

We are staying at Hotel Zamorra for our last 3 nights ($24). We have a balcony that overlooks 5 de Mayo. Brown suited men and women have serenaded us with their crank powered radio contraptions (No se la palabra) that play scratchy nostalgic music. We are pretty much staying in the historic district. After getting our room, we wandered through markets, and as darkness fell, noted how the city feels like NY of the 1940s, or perhaps Gotham City itself. Th marketeers close their markets in a violent swoosh, dumping excess trash into the street, loading carts, and rushing off...to somewhere.

We rested a little bit, and walked to the Opera Bar. It was a fantastic place, that reminded me of Diplomat hangouts in DC. A huge oak bar seated mostly with sharply dressed, lighter skinned, seemingly more well educated Mexican males. They also drank like fish. Kathy and I had a few expensive beers ($3 each) , shared a cheese plate, and retired for the night.

We did the tourist thing on Friday. I saw some of my favorite art in the world. At the presidential palace, I saw Rivera´s masterpiece detailing Mexican history. It´s like the dome of the capital, but more controversial. The catholic priests are depicted as ghouls, Marx is there, and the ostentatiousness of the 1940s (similar to our 1920s) is portrayed with disgust. We saw the parliament room which was very European looking. We saw murals of Rivera, Siqueiros, and Tamayo at the Palacio de Bellas Artes. The highlight was Rivera´s portrayal of Socialism and Capitalism. He orignally did the work for Rockefeller Center, but upon its completion, it was promptly destroyed. Although somewhat propagandish, I stared for 20 minutes at the mural, noticing new details. I felt smart, noticing Darwin in the bottom left corner next to a child holding an Ape´s hand (on the capitalist side of the mural).

We took the metro the museum of modern art, both of which I highly reccomend. The metro is 20 cents regardless of where you are going. A man tried selling us vitamins before our first transfer. We saw some Kahlo, Morales, and an exhibition on a guy named Tarizco (?) at the museum. We tried going to the Zona Rosa for lunch, which was a mistake. Lonely Planet promised trendy cafes, but we couldn´t find too much. Exhausted, we settled for a fish and sushi place, which turned out to be surprisingly wonderful. Tired, we decided we wanted to see a movie. We saw Superman, back in the Centro Historico. Neither of us were impressed, but the experience of watching Hollywood fluff in a darkened theater was a nice respite from our trip. It was jarring to walk back out into the the Mexican Gotham City.

We wanted to have a grand last night out, but rain prohibited this. We shared some Sangria, and ate and expensive meal at a trendy place with live music. We had planned to see some jazz, but we ended up sprinting through the rain back to our room. We are going to see Kahlo´s house today, check out the markets, and go to bed early. Kathy has to get up at 4:30 fo her flight tomorrow, and I am going to leave around 11:30. We´re getting authorized cabs to take us to the aeropuerto. I am excited to get home. I will miss the cheap meals, the spanish language, and the colorful buildings, but I am tired of being stared at.

See you all soon. John.

2006-07-11T10:18:00.000-07:00

We took a camioneta instead of a bus because it had air conditioning and would be faster. Big mistake. The fat lady who ran the operation tricked Kathy and I into taking the back three seats, which she promplty loaded with four people. The first three hours were miserable. My butt cramped, I sweated an ugly odour, and I only kept my insanity by burying my head in my book.

Luckily, some people got off halfway and the last 2 hours were pretty comfortable. It was raining when we got to Oaxaca, and we had some difficulty finding Posada de Chapulin (grasshoper). Oaxaca is a little more expensive, but our place is worth it. Comfortable beds, towels, hot water, and friendly staff. We got dinner on the Zocalo at 9:30. I had chiles stuffed with pork and beef. The meat was sweat, and the guacomole on the side was delicious.

The next morning, we wandered through the 20 de Noviembre market. Wow! They had everything, from meat to vegetables, to plastic masks and mole sauces. Before I leave, I am going to buy some pantalones for $5. I don´t know what you call them, but they look kind of like they´re made from potato sacks. We had breakfast on the Zocalo, and after Kathy checked internet, we wandered up Benito Juarez avenue to the Santo Domingo church. It was the most gilted church we´ve seen, and it totally creeped me out. The sun shown as we exited, and we began to search out the modern art galleries that Oaxaca is famous for. We saw some great stuff. One artist was a mix between Salvador Dali, John Singer Sargent, and Diego Rivera.

We met up with Kathy´s former principle for a drink at a cafe. We visited another gallery, and split up for awhile planning to meet up for dinner. Kathy and I had a little snack, rested at El Chapulin, and I ate some grasshopers. They weren´t great but they weren´t horrible. Salty and crunchy, kind of like pumpkin seeds. We had dinner at a vegetarian place. The owner was from San Francisco, and it showed in his cuisine. We said goodbye to Kathy´s principal, and had a few drinks at a local bar. Mezcal and Corona. There were some gringas at the bar who made us cringe, but did provide some entertainment as they flirted shamelessly through poor espagnol with the Mexicanos. The highlight was them taking some sort of drink out of a dildo-like pouring device (you can use your imagination, but I made sure to take a picture).

Oaxaca has lately been the scene of some serious protesting. The teachers started out about 2 weeks ago demonstrating for better wages and proper materials for students. They camped out at the Zocalo and things were peaceful for awhile. Then, approximately 5 days ago, Ulises (the governor of Oaxaca I believe) sent in police. According to the protesters, six were killed, and 15 are missing. Now the Zocalo is filled with teachers from around the country showing solidarity and other political groups, including anarchists and communists. There are stencils all over the place depicting Ulises as a rat. In other political news, Obrador has called for another mass demonstration in Mexico City on the day Kathy and I leave. We´ll see what happens.

Kathy is sleeping in. I had breakfast by myself. We´re going to see some museums today, and some traditional dancing tomorrow. I think we will take a tour of Monte Alban tomorrow and head for Mexico City on Thursday.

John

2006-07-09T09:30:00.000-07:00

We chartered a taxi for $20 to Puerto Angel. It was expensive, but doing so allowed us to enjoy the day on the beach rather than switching busses, etc. We took a room at the top of a nasty set of stairs, but the view was worth it. We quickly made our way to the beach.

It is picturesque here. Fisherman are everywhere, and I am reminded of Hemingway´s Old Man and the Sea when I look to the bay. Except for the fact that now, all of the fisherman have motors. All of it makes me miss my baby (Hi Joanna!). The few tourists that are here tend to be couples getting away from it all. Things are romantic here - it´s odd sharing it with Kathy.

It´s the low season, so we were swarmed by young men trying to get us to take a sit at their base of operations. We had 5 different people offering us gratis seats. We chose a young man named Angel and he was pretty nice. We read, swam, read, and swam some more. I am currently reading Cisneros´Caramelo. I didn´t like it at first because she seemed to be glorifying the backwardness of Mexico´s cities, but I have come to fall in love with some of her characters.

I had guacamole (wich took an hour to prepare) and a cerveza. My tan is looking pretty good. We showered up and had dinner at a little Italian restaurant. I had tuna pasta, and Kathy ordered the shrimp. The shrimp wasn´t filling enough, so we ordered a pizza. Throughout dinner, we noticed the locals, some dressed in their finest, walking towards the pier. Stuffed, we walked up the hill, following the locals. It was a graduation ceremony. Although my Spanish is limited, I´m pretty sure graduation speeches are the same on both sides of the border. In addition to reading and mathematics, according to the principal, the students learn responsibilidad and discipline. Few people actually listened to the principle, but his voice crescendoed. Two fairly good looking dogs meandered into the empty space in front of the principal and dignataries. As the principal´s hand motions became more excited, the male perro saddled up and began humping the poor bitch. That was the high point of the night. To cap things off, we read some more before going to sleep.

I had eggs with chorizo. Kathy had pineapple juice with spider. I mean, the spider was huge and we refused to pay for the juice. We took a tour for the day with Azul Profundo tour company. They took us out to sea and we went snorkeling at a few beaches. The snorkeling was very different than Akumal. The fish weren´t as colorful, but what was lacking in quality, was made up for in quantity. It was fun swimming among huge schools, watching them get whipped about by the currents as much as we were. I saw some swordfishes and got to touch a sea spider. Alas, we did not get to see the tortugas (turtles) that were promised to us. Kind of a bummer.

Exhausted upon our return, Kathy tood a siesta. I intermittently read and dozed in a hammock, taking breaks to check out the Alumino graduation ceremony going on at the pier below our balcony. I roused Kathy at 7:30, and we took a walk to Suzy´s, a restaurant listed in our guidebook. Again, it was as romantic as it gets with one´s sister. I had a huge plate of carne, quacamole, fried bananas, french fries, salad, and pollo (which I did not touch this time!). We walked back to our place, and read a little bit more before going to sleep.

Today, we are making our way towards Oaxaca. We´ll take a taxi to Pochutla for $5 and catch a 9 hour first class ADO bus to the city if everything goes as planned. Update in a few days.

John

2006-07-07T07:12:00.000-07:00

We got to the beach at about 10am and promptly rented a bungalow for 20$ a night. Puerto Escondido is a surfer´s town. The waves are 7-11 feet where we are staying. Everyone is either a surfer or a surfer´s girlfriend, althought that´s not to say there aren´t any women surfers.

Kathy slept mouth open on the bus pretty much the whole way. I didn´t do as well, but I did finish Exodus and got through most of my book about Chiapas. After we got our room, we went and had an amazing breakfast for 3$ each. The coffee was decent. We went to the beach afterwards, a 2 minute walk from our bungalow. The undertow is incredibly strong so we didn´t swim, but we did get some nice sunburns.

The rest of the day was spent quietly reading in our bungalow. Kathy had camorones and I had a tuna sandwich for dinner. We read, drank some rum and cokes, munched on pizza, and discussed teaching on the patio for about an hour. We went to El Adoquin, a pedestrian street not far from our bungalow, to check out the nightlife. It was virtually nonexistent. We found out where all the surfers were, at the top story of a bar called Wipeout. I am 22 years old, and I felt old there.

We slept in the next morning. I traded Exodus and my book about Chiapas for Augusten Burrough´s Running with Scissors. We had another great breakfast. I had french toast, eggs, bacon, and coffee for $4. Afterwards, the sun beat down on us as we walked to Playa Manzanilla, which is a little inlet where you can actually swim. Kathy and I lolled on the beach, dipping in every 20 minutes due to the brutal sun. It was quiet, warm, and relaxing. I love my new book. I was unashamedly laughing out loud as I read.

We got caught in a storm and ended up under a metal roof with an American woman and her Mexican boyfriend. The conversation was typical, but with the storm, there was nothing else to do. I ventured out for an ATM once the rain quieted. I ate a fish afterwards. I mean, it was just an entire fish cooked to perfection with lemon and garlic. After a few cervezas, Kathy and I returned to our bungalow. We read in a little coffee bar, had dinner, and went to sleep early. We´re going to try to make it to Playa Angelito today, but as of yet, we don´t know how to get there.

John

2006-07-04T14:55:00.000-07:00

San Cristobal de Las Casas is our favorite city we have seen so far. Chiapas is a beautiful state and the indigenous influence is visibly beautiful, despite the poverty. Kathy is on the Pepto Bismol diet now, so I let her sleep yesterday and got breakfast by myself. It was the first meal I was unable to finish. Bread, butter, fruit salad, and an omelette the size of a football. Again, the coffee was great.

I walked to the Zocalo, and read some more of Exodus before returning to wake up Kathy at 11. We walked up Victoria Guadalupe to another church that was on a hill overlooking San Cristobal. The view of the city was nice, but the view of houses on the hidden side of the hill was interesting as well. Tin roofed houses were packed together, but every inch of green was planted with corn.

We walked back down the hill and picked up some souvenirs at a Nuevo Zapata store. I bought a flask of Aguardiente (like posh) for 56 cents and drank it with Coke while Kathy and I wandered aimlessly. We must have discussed teaching for 2 hours on a park bench outside the Zocalo. We also reminisced about our beloved Mema Margaret, who passed away three nights ago. We talked about the good times with Mema and Curly, and did not shed a tear. The real cry will come I´m sure when we return and see our mother.

We had some coffee. I flipped through a Spanish GQ while Kathy read her book. Energized, we changed, and headed for La Revolucion, which is a hip bar on the main pedestrian thoroughfare. They had a happy hour special, and Kathy and I had three beers apiece. I broke down, and ordered a hamburguesa and fries. The bar was full of hippies, from Mexico and abroad. Kathy and I finished off the Aguardiente with Coke back in our room, and headed out for the nightlife we had heard so much about. The election is over (it´s tied or something) so lots of travellers were doing the same. We went to La Revolucion and enjoyed some folk music for awhile. Kathy drank less than me because she is sick.

We went to another place that was more like a club. A great reggae band played. Kathy sat, but I had a few Cuba Libres and enjoyed dancing by myself for approximately an hour. I must have looked like an ass, but I felt great! We got to bed around 12.

This morning we took a tour to see Sumidero Canyon. It was not a huge canyon, but we did see some interesting wildlife (monkeys, crocodiles, and pelicans). It was nice just to be on the water, helpful for my hangover. We stopped at another village on the way back, but it looked pretty much like Chamula. Kathy had a quesadilla that probabl y contained 2 pounds of cheese.

I was astonished at how many Mayans I saw carrying firewood alongside the highway. They came in and out of the woods where I assume their homes are. There are so many of them, but you don´t really see them unless you look. I bought a book today about indigenous peoples of Chiapas. I am fascinated, because we have nothing comparable in the States.

Back in San Cristobal, we purchased a few more souvenirs and gifts and had some coffee. Our bus for the beach leaves at 7:00. 13 hours! Looking forward to doing nothing on the beach for a few days.

John

2006-07-02T17:54:00.000-07:00

We got up early today in order to switch hostels before our tour. We found a comprable place for eight bucks less so we made the move. We were in a tourist group of Americans, Mexicans, Italians, and Swedes for the day. We left at about 9:30 for the village of Chamula outside of San Cristobal.

Chiapas has about 4 million people, 1 million of whom are indigenous Mayans. Within this group, nine different languages are spoken. The town of Chamula probably had about 9 thousand people. Our guide was wonderful, but the historian in me is wary of accepting his explanation of things as truth. It is not good to rely on one source for cultural information. He lectured us as we walked pass family compounds on the religion of Chamulans. According to him, Chamulans have never really bought into catholicism. The cross was omnipresent in the town, but Chamulans attach traditional meanings to it. Even the church, although filled with catholic relics, is interpreted by the people in a traditional way. For example, he told us that the cross actually represents the Mayan story of the Ceiba tree...the Ceiba tree lifted the sky from the earth to create the world as we know it today. I am not going to go into the details, but it was fascinating.

No one has asked me to buy a hammock, but the little kids surrounded us in the plaza outside the church at Chamula. They asked for "uno peso" over and over and over again. A cute little boy in ragged clothes actually started to fake cry, and I could not help but laugh. Their poverty is not funny , but the fake crying was really comical to me. I guess I have a black heart.

The tour ended with a visit to a home in a neighboring village. We saw weaving, tortilla making, and drank a shot of posh (liquor made from sugar cane...kind of Jaegermeisterish). It was a good tour. Kathy and I napped from 3 till 5.

The elections ended today with voting. Long lines have formed around the city, and according to Mexicans we have talked to, it seems that turnout will be high. The indigenous people are heavily manipulated and herded. Parties will give out a ton of cement bricks - valuable capital in the little villages - weeks before the voting, and remind the villagers of the gift up until the election.

I am not too informed on Mexican politics, but I do know that the elections have ruined the night life in San Cristobal. No one is allowed to sell alcohol for 2 days leading up to the election (la ley de seca), so all the clubs and bars here are closed. Kathy and I have decided to leave for the beach on Tuesday so that we can experience the nightlife tomorrow. Here is what I ate today: bread for breakfast, trail mix, a black corn tortilla filled with queso and pumpkin seed in the house of the villager, one slice of pizza, and after the nap I had two dinners (tacos suaves and carne asada). Churros for desert.

We will take it easy tonight, tour the rest of San Cristobal tomorrow, maybe take an eco tour on Tuesday, and take a night bus for the beach on Tuesday.

John

2006-07-01T15:23:00.000-07:00

Kathy and I left Merida on the night bus bound for Palenque. For those of you familiar with Mexican geography, we left Yucatan for Chiapas. Palenque was only slightly more mountainous. We took a hotel at Posada Bonampak at 5am. The charge was only $8. The place lacked hot water but it was so hot we did not really care. Also, it looked dirtier than it actually was.

We slept for a few hours and got up at 9 to go to the ruins of Palenque. We had eggs, bread, and fruit for a fair price and took a van collectivo to the ruins. They were absolutely beautiful. There were three tombs and we were allowed to enter one of them. There was a Palace where the nobles hung out and many of the reliefs were still in great shape. The height of the ruins expepedition was walking to the top of Los Templos de la Cruces. Unlike the ruins of Chichen Itza, there were few tourists and we were surrounded by a beautiful natural landscape. From the top of Los Templos, we were flanked by luscious jungles and a vista of the lowlands. It was truly awe inspiring. We just meditated for awhile and took in the energia of the place. The rest of the grounds were interesting and the surrounding waterfalls were picturesque. Even the museum was informative.

We toured the town of Palenque for the rest of the night. Lonely Planet kind of dissed it, but Kathy and I found it charming. There was a nice central square, and the people seemed content and full of life. We ate at a respectable looking hotel. I ordered what I thought was cheese enchiladas, but it came with chicken. Against my own intuition, I ate it. (BIG mistake...read on) We chilled at a coffee shop reading our books. The book I am reading, Exodus, has started to annoy me a little bit. The author reinforces many stereotype about Arabs; that they are an opportunistic, lazy, and back stabbing group of people. The coffee was great, and we had fun watching the people mill about at the main square. It rained a little bit and we purchased our tickets for San Cristobal de las Casas. My tummy began to rumble.

The night was awful. I had three violent sittings on the toilet, but the third was the worst. Let me just say it came out of both ends at the same time. I probably woke up half the hotel with my wretching. I did not sleep more than 30 minutes because the stomach pains kept coming. The half mile walk to the bus station in the morning was awful.

Not quite as awful as the 5 hour bus ride to San Cristobal. San Cristobal is charming because it is nestled in beautiful mountain ranges. But to get to it requires a bus ride that curves and curves and dips and dips. Ay aye aye. Luckily, there was some good hollywood fluff on to take my mind off of my stomach. We found a place quickly in San Cristobal and I slept until 8 this morning. Kathy explored by herself.

We have had a good day so far and are going to stay until at least monday. I got to see a coffee museum today! They had translations in English so I was able to learn so much about the world history but especially the Chiapan history of the lovely little bean. We bargained with merchants in the market for a few hours and I did most of my shopping for the trip. We saw a decent museum about the history and climbed a huge staircase to the top of a hill where a lovely little church sat. The view was picturesque. The town is very charming because of its age and indigenous influences. Tomorrow we are taking a tour to one of the villages and will see more museums and such on Monday before leaving for the Playa south of Oaxaca. I would write more but the bathroom is calling me.

John

2006-06-28T15:48:00.000-07:00

We go to the Nomadas hostel in Merida at about 2:30 yesterday. The hostel was clean, well-run, and affordable ($17). We settled in and took a few minutes to calendar out the rest of our trip. We have heard differing reports about the cities we had planned to see, and we wanted to map things out. We decided that we will stay longer in San Cristobal and go to Puerto Angel (south of Oaxaca on the coast) to chill out on the beach. We´ll spend approximately 4 days in Oaxaca and Mexico City each.

We walked from the hostel to the main plaza, El Zocalo, just to look around. There are less gringos here, so approximately 1,000 Mexicans asked us if we wanted a hammock (hamaca) on the 10 minute walk to the square. A legit senor from the tourist office came up to us in the square. He gave us a list of free attractions and led us to a Maya warehouse. Apparently, there are different factions of hammock vendors in Merida. The Nomadas hostel supports one group and the senor from the tourist office warned us against them. He led us to a government sponsored hammock warehouse. According to him, the Mayans who work there don´t pay taxes and they make a higher quality product, not from nylon. We received a demonstration on the superiority of these hammocks from a producer for about 20 minutes. Neither Kathy nor I had any desire to buy a hamaca but we played along.

Next, we went to the Governor´s Palace to look at some murales by Pacheco, who is from Merida. He studied under Diego Rivera and his murales cover the same topics. The paintings were grand, communistic, and powerful. They gave a good history of Merida; the resistance of the Mayans, the conquest of the Spanish, Henequen production, and the Revolution. Afterwards, we had dinner at a Yucatecan restaurant off of the main square. I had Choc-tuc, which is a traditional Mayan way of preparing pork. They use oranges in the marinade and the product is appealing. Kathy had a quesadilla with some sort of black mushrooms in it. Unfortunately, the mushrooms were not the hallucinogenic type that are apparently famous here, but they were rich and tasty.

We met up with Kathy´s friend at Hoyo, a newly established coffee shop 3 blocks from the square. We had a few drinks and I was jealous of the Waffle Kathy and Marika ordered. It had a caramel like syrup, bannanas, and Ice Cream on top of it. Que rico! The conversation was somewhat stilted, but I did learn a lot about immigration laws. Marika and her friend Amber are both married to Mexicans. Amber may never get to return to the states with her husband because they have not been living in the same place in Mexico for long enough. To even legally visit the US with a Visa, you must show that you have serious economic ties to Mexico. Amber´s husband is in a band "Punk Guerrilla," so it´s hard for them to prove. Marika and her husband´s situation is different. They have been applying for legal residency within the US for 2 years. They hope to get their first face to face meeting by next November.

We went back to Nomadas and were asleep by 11.

Today has been a long one. We had the complimentary breakfast of bread and butter and walked to Marika´s house to drop off our bags. We left quickly in order to have a free walking tour of the Zocalo from the tourist office. Victor was our guide. He spoke decent english with a heavy accent and went from it to Spanish between sentences so that the Mexican tourists and us gringos could all understand. He showed us the Bishop´s house, the cathedral, and the Governor´s house, which together with the tourist office form the 4 sides to the Zocalo.

Merida was an important city to the Mayans because of its proximity to the coast. Where the Zocalo is now, once sat the grand pyramid of the Mayans in Merida. The Spanish, led by a father-son-nephew Montejo trifecta, tore down the pyramid and put up spanish buildings. As we were walking throught the bishop´s house, which is now owned by Banamex, Victor pointed out the collumns. Portions of the collumns had holes in them where you could see the original Mayan stones that were taken from the pyramid and used in the new buildings´constructions. The rest of the tour was okay. The cathedral was nice, but I don´t really like churches. We took a second look at Pacheco´s murals, tipped Victor, and headed on our way.

It is hot here. We walked to a fresh fruit market that was 14 blocks away. We drank a liter of water along the way. We bought 2 mangos (90 cents) and slurped them down in a small square next to the market. They tasted sweet and fresh. We headed toward the Museum of Anthropology in hopes of seeing a Cantina along the way where we could order a beer and get free appetizers. No suerte. We got to the museum, and realized how hungry we were, so we trudged aimlessly in search of food. Three old ladies in a convenience store suggested a Chinese place for us because Kathy could not eat meat. We checked it out, but Kathy could have only eaten rice there. Something must have been lost in translation.

Next tore was Tacos de Cabeza. There were 3 areas to this fine eatery, and we made our way to the air conditioned quarto in the back. Kathy ordere something vegetarian and I ordered tacos. The tacos never came but the vegetarian stuff was surprisingly tasty and filling. There was also a free appetizer. I had a cerveza. The bill came to 3.50.

The air conditioning in the Museum was a nice relief. The displays covering Mayan civilization were fairly informative and mildly interesting. I like history, but not the old stuff. Here´s some interesting tidbits. Elite Mayans shaped their children´s heads to make them as flat as possible on top. They used boards and vices to achieve this. The Mayans were really good at keeping time, collecting water (there are no rivers in the Yucatan), and philosophizing. They had a deep faith and saw celestial forces at work in their everyday lives.

It was still hot when we left the museum. I wanted to scream, "Yes, I am a gringo, but I do not want any of your god damned hammocks. ¡No quiero hamaca!" After resting on a bench we decided to go back to Hoyo for some caffeine. The afternoon dragged on as we read while the rain poured. We have basically been killing time (as you can tell by the minute details of this blog) waiting for our night bus to Palanque at 10.

I am currently reading Leon Uris´Exodus, which is about the establishment of Israel interspersed with horrifying flashbacks to the Holocaust. I feel like I should have a witty comment for what it feels like to read a Zionist novel in the Yucatan, but I simply do not. I think we are going to leave this wonderful Interneteria soon for some dinner and then eventually trudge back to the bus terminal. We will see Palenque in the morning and probably collapse shortly thereafter. After that, it´s off to San Cristobal, which we have heard great things about.

Hasta Luego, John

2006-06-27T09:45:00.000-07:00

Kathy and I are currently in a town called Piste, which is basically where Chichen Itza is. The ruins were pretty awe inspiring, but we were constantly approached by merchants. I actually would have bought something but I don´t want to carrry it around for the rest of the trip. The Mayans seemed to be a vicious people that were great at astronomy and calendar keeping. Different historians have different versions about how they lived, but human sacrifice and mythology seemed to define much of their lives. There was a castillo in the middle of the ruins that made me feel very small. We went to see a laser show at night but we got rained out.

We stayed a night at La Posada Olalde ($25). It was expensive but we each had our own bed, hot water, soap, towels, and a fan that kept us cool. Piste is very dirty and poor. There are many decrepit dogs running around with lesions and flies. Once again, the people seem nice. We got breakfast this morning. Juevos, jamon, y queso por mi. Juevos y queso for Kathy. Bread and butter plus 2 cofees. 8 dollars for it all. We are going to catch a bus for Merida in a few minutes where we will meet up with Kathy´s friend Marika and her husband.

Love you all,
John

2006-06-25T19:11:00.000-07:00

Mi Viaje en Mexico

On Wednesday my sister and I met eachother in the Cancun airport. It was the beginning of what will be a three week trip in Southern Mexico.

Pathetic as it is, this is my first time seriously traveling outside of the United States. On the short flight from Miami I wondered about the culture and landscapes I was about to see. I was extremely excited. Cancun deflated my excitement in about 30 seconds. We took a cab through La Zona Hotela which somehow manages to be more American than most American cities. Multiply Vegas by MTV´s "Spring Break¨ and you get the main beach in Cancun. Senor Frogs, Jimmy Buffet´s Margaritaville, Bubba Gump, etcetera.

Luckily, Kathy and I are on a budget so we couldn´t afford to stay in La Zona. We spent our first night in a not too bad hotel in downtown ($40). The next morning we had a superb desayuno. El Cafe was muy fuerta. Por mi, juevos, queso, jamon, pan y mantequilla. We hopped an ADO bus for Playa del Carmen at noon.

Playa del Carmen is about an hour south of Cancun. The beach here is clean, quaint, and only partially Americanized. Near the beach is where tourists typically stay. The restaurants seem nice but they are expensive by Mexican standards. Inland a few blocks you will find mercados, lavanderias, and Mexicanos. Kathy and I booked a room in Urbana Hostel ($20) for two nights. We were glad to be away from the Uncle Sam vomit of Cancun and headed straight to the beach.

I sipped on a rum and coke while mi hermana sun bathed. We ate some camarones at one of the beach restaurants, shopped at Mega for groceries, returned to the hostel, and took a siesta. I woke up groggy and got caught watching Sin City for about 45 minutes. Then, I started to make friends. Carlos, who is somehow connected to the running of Urbana Hostel, played a guitar on the roof patio. A woman from Spain sang with Carlos and the rest of us joined in when we knew the words. There was Adriana from Italy, David from Monterey (a state in northern Mexico I believe), two more Mexicans whose names escape me, and a girl from Holland. It was a nice group sitting in a circle and it made me happy.

Kathy and I ate some quesadillas at a barbacoa ($2 each) which was served with modest portions of refried beans, macaroni (?), and salad. We purchased some cervezas on the way home and drank, sang, and discussed nothing too important till midnight and retired.

We got up at 7 the next morning in order to catch a bus to Tulum. We snacked on fruit and enjoyed some more delicious coffee before taking the 45 minute trip. Those of you who know me know I love coffee and consider myself somewhat of an aficionado of the lovely little bean. Well, I´ve had about six total cups of coffee so far in Mexico and each one has been outstanding. It´s dark, strong, and raw.

We went to Tulum to see some Mayan ruins and the beach as well. The ruins were really really old and semi-interesting. The beach was gorgeous but crowded. In fact, the whole place didn´t really sit well with me because there were so many tourists. I guess I don´t like to be reminded of what I actually am on this trip. We returned to the hostel by 1 in order to watch Mexico play Argentina at 2. We sat in a bar that I think was called "2 for 1" which of course refers to the ever present drink specials. David, Matt (from Holland), Kathy and I took full advantage of the special during the game. It was pretty fun. Mexican males poured into the bar. Many were wearing their work uniforms, and I some only stayed long enough for a beer. I suspect that many of the were working and could not watch the full game. Everytime Maradona was shown, they booed and it was raucous throughout. Mexico lost 2-1 in overtime. It was great socc - I mean futbol.

After sobering up with coffee and some quiet reading, I went to what is now my favorite restaurant in the entire worled. It is the Billy the Kid Taqueria about 4 blocks back from the beach. I ate 4 beef tacos for $1.60. They give you limes, onions, cilantro, and an array of salsa. Nothing fancy, but the tacos come quick and it´s the best deal I´ve found so far. I think the food will get cheaper as we distance ourself from the metropolis of Cancun.

Thinks were quiet in the hostel but my frat boy radar sensed that people wanted to party. I walked to the mercado with the girl from Holland and purchased a bottle of tequila, tostados, and limes for $9.00. I sat around the rooftop table with a great group of people. There was Oscar from Spain, Martin (who I will discuss more in a little bit), David, Lucas from Argentina, Matt, Diego and a Swede. They all warned me about the Tequila as if I had never drank it and peer pressured just about everyone to take a shot or two. We got drunk. We all went out to the club area about midnight. We went to a place called the Blue Parrot. There was a cover of $5 but you got two free beers so it was nice. From what I gather, it´s one of the nicest places in La Play del Carmen. The music was great (everything from Hanson to Snoop Dogg to Salsa) and the beachfront dancefloor was fun. Martin and I seemed to know how to have a good time better than most. W danced with a few girls from Mexico City and danced liked idiots just to make others laugh. We must have toasted each other 40 times before the night was over. I sweated a disgusting amount and made it into mi cama about 4.

This morning, Kathy and I had juevos y cafe, purchased a ticket for Chichen Itza, and went back to the hostel. Every single person asked me if I had a good time the night before and was I hung over. Yes and no were my truthful answers.

Martin es mi amigo but he makes a living as a guide in Akumel which is a resort area 20 minutes from Del Carmen. He showed up around one, and guided me, Kathy, David, Oscar, and Diego to "un lago pequeno". We took a van collectivo the Akumel. Martin got us the snorkeling gear for free and led us to the most fantastic lago pequeno I have ever seen. It was a rocky shallow lake that was really just a super secluded bay from the Carribean Sea. The fish were amazing. We must have swam for 2 hours. The parrot fish were huge, the water was clean, and you could actually hear the fishes eating (click click) when they bumped head first against the boulders. I´m not a biologist but they were probably eating lichen like stuff off the rocks. Absolutely beautiful. At times I felt like James Bond exploring the underwater mini canyons.

Next, we went to see a cenote, which is a limestone cave spring thingamajig. On the way I saw some Mexican poverty. All along the highway from Akumel to del Carmen there are sea resorts where white people live, whom are mostly Americans. For every huge resort on the beach, there is a corresponding shanty town on the other side of the high way where the workers live. The towns look dirty and are apparently completely dependent on the resorts. Lots of dogs. Walking to the cenote I got a close look at one of these villages. Looking at a bamboo structure with tin roofs I asked Martin, Casas? Si. I was shocked. I talked with Martin a little bit about the economy. He was such a jovial guy but he was clear that the economic segregation of the area made him angry.

Tonight I packed and will read a little bit. We go to Chichen Itza to see the granddaddy of Mayan Ruins tomorrow. I am excited to get away from the Cancun area. Everyone has sad Chiapas is the best so Kathy and I are budgeting more time for it. I have so much to write but I am tired.

A couple things. My spanish is much better than I thought. If I had 3 months I think I could be pretty fluent. My understanding has already improved (people everywhere talk pretty much about the same stuff). I speak better when my inhibitions are down. There is a certain clarity when you don´t know a language well. So far, mis amigos speak a little English, I attempt Spanish, and we seem to communicate pretty well.

The coffee really is unbelievable.

I am enjoying the time with my sister. We make a good team.

Oh, tengo sueño. Buenas Noches.

John

2006-06-13T14:31:00.000-07:00

My First Year

I met the new TFA '06 corps for Miami-Dade last week. Even though I only have a year under my teaching belt, I felt like a wise owl. I did not bother trying to explain the hardships they will face. It would have been impossible to relate the agony of my first month. I don't think agony is too strong of a word. There were days early first semester when I lost hope. Students would swear at me. My feet hurt. My mind raced with questions about the next day. Miami and my entire living environment were stained by the job. It really really sucked.

There was no reason to tell this to the new corps members. For the most part, they seemed to have the necessary ingredients for success in their first year. True, some had misconceived notions about what teaching in an inner city school was actually like. For example, one '06 told me he planned on getting materials from his professor for his high school social studies class. I wanted to say, "You might want to check with your eighth grade teacher for reading materials." But this is small stuff that you can't really be told. You must try and fail, figure out why you failed, make the necessary corrections, and try again. The necessary ingredients I mentioned might look something like this.

1) Optimism: You need to believe that teaching will get easier and your students will continue to learn better as you get better. Pessimism at my school was everywhere, and was as tempting as most sins are. Stay out of the teacher lounge, believe in yourself, your kids, and your mission as a teacher.

2) Persistence: It's sort of a cliche within Teach for America, but persistence might be the most important ingredient. It's hard to believe, but your students will want you to swear at them in rage or even give up completely on them. The door is never far away, and most corps members have other options. You will see other teachers quit. If you do quit or swear at them, it will simply confirm their own experience. But if you persist, and greet their disrespect with a firm love, they may begin to believe in themselves. By second semester, you might even begin to believe in yourself.

3) Humility: Guess what? It's not your school. It's theirs. It's the students' school. Most walk from public housing to it everyday. They know where the dope boys hang out, but they also know how to avoid them. They know who they terrible teachers are, and they know who the good ones are. If you run out of hall passes, ask them. They collect them for opportune moments. It's also the permanent teachers' school. Ms. Jackson has been at Northwestern for 38 years. That is love. My contribution pales in comparison. Don't think that what you learn at Institute for 5 weeks gives you a right to tell other teachers how to do their job. It is true that more learning occurs in my class than most, but I work 60-70 hours a week for that result. I am young, idealistic, and most importantly, I have only been fighting for one year. Always treat your students with respect. Serve them to the best of your ability.

4) Friends and Family: Don't hide your agony from friends and family. Once they understand your mission, they will give you more support than you can imagine. Soon, you will find immense pride in telling what you are doing to others. Don't think that just because you're out of college and in the "real world" you have to be the rock of Gibraltar. You are human. Call Mom crying if you need to. Then, get back to work. People who love you will always be there.

I taught seniors Social Studies my first year of teaching. First semester, I taught Government. Second Semester, I taught Economics. It was the same periods and the same students, but a whole new class.

My kids did not learn very much first semester. I can't even talk about "data" because I did not assess them enough. Let me recap the mistakes I made first semester and the steps I've taken second semester to change them:

The Notebook System: The idea was that students did everything in their notebooks and handed it in every three weeks. Not a good idea. If the student forgets their notebook they have an excuse not to work. Some students didn't do any work during class and copied from their friends outside of class. Plus, the students were being informed of their progress every three weeks rather than constantly.

Second semester, there was no notebook. The required materials were pen and paper. If a student didn't have either of these, I provided. There was no excuse not to work. I threw paper at them (luckily, the copy machine worked most of second semester). I organized their work and posted grades every week. Students always knew their grade. Sometimes they would complain when they saw how much failing a test hurt their grade, but it's worth it to keep them informed.

"Behavior Focus": This one might be controversial. First semester, I reacted everytime someone used profanity. When you have 12 people swearing in every period, that's a lot of phone calls home. I must have written 20 referrals.

I taught them Economics second semester. My kids vocabalary measurably improved. They know how to create and use supply and demand schedules. They know what a ticker symbol is, and what the different options are for investing. They can write checks, and they can tell you about shopping for credit cards. They are also still immature. I tolerated some disrespect, but when they crossed the line I quietly asked them to leave. No referral, no conduct cut, and no pulsing of veins. Just leave. It put the burden on them and away from me. They still swear and are irresponsible at times. But I don't think I could have taught them responsibility or manners in one year. But they have useful knowledge, and they know what hard work, decorum, and drive look like. I modeled all three every day.

This will be my last blog for 7 weeks. I am going to Mexico soon, and will be laying low for the rest of the summer. Next year, my blog will be more consistent but with shorter entries.

John

2006-05-15T19:30:00.000-07:00

I haven't been writing too much because things have been moving along pretty well. I was using writing as a form of therapy, but I've been needing it less and less (been drinking more and more!) Just kidding. Hahah.

Things are sort of wrapping up. I gave my students a no note, no book final and they did very well on it. I got an 81% overall average which equals "Significant Gains" in the TFA vocabulary. Whatever. I have issue with the TFA strive for significant gains because it is so easy to manipulate data. I could have made 90% with an easier test.

The rest of the year will consist of wrapping up loose ends. I'm struggling with my no credit battle for seniors. Call me if you want to hear about it.

I'm just not feeling like writing too much lately.

John

2006-04-24T18:33:00.000-07:00

I was in a funk last week. The funk was like when you see something awful and the picture just stays with you. Like seeing your first dead dog or violence at home. What I saw was that I will not reach a lot of my kids. The majority may end up in prison, poverty, or at least not where they hoped they would be.

I'm going to go off.

There was this 15 year old named Nate Anderson. Nate Anderson was a sophomore with a lot of friends. He was in honors classes and played football. Nate was at his friends house playing video games last weekend, and decided to walk home. Apparently, some young Gs rolled up behind Nate and shot him in the back of the head. My freshmen told me they shot Nate on accident. They thought he was somebody else.

Not a fucking word in the Herald or on any media I can find. I don't want to sensationalize it but people need to know when needless violence happens.

2006-03-27T18:18:00.000-08:00

Last Friday my significant other and I took the day off. I prepared well for my kids, and I did not feel guilty about not being there.

We left early and sped to Key Largo. We were on a boat prepared to snorkel by noon. The weather was mild, windy, and somewhat gray. The water was clear. It took me awhile to feel comfortable breathing out a tube, but once I got the hang of it I saw some beautiful fish. Saw an underground statue of Christ on the next stop. The water was choppy, so I didn't go in on stop three. We were cold. Cruising back into harbor, the sun came out. Tired, we scarfed down beef jerkey, wheat thins with hummus, and bright orange baby carrots.

Satisfied, we drove to Key West. We probably should have stayed in, but we wanted to see trashy Key West at night. A Hungarian racist taxi driver took us to the North end of Duvall street. Waiting for our cheeseburgers at....well, a restaurant named Cheeseburger, I grabbed Joanna by the hand and we danced alone to a cover band just getting started. We tried to get drunk later at a place called Sloppy Joe's, but the 40 year-olds hooking on the dance floor kept us sober. We were soundly asleep back at the Radisson by 12.

It was windy, gray, and cold the next morning. We talked to a friendly concierge, and drove the south end of the key before breakfast. We stopped at the southernmost point in the United States. Didn't bother to take a picture.

Duvall Street runs from the south of Key West to the north. We walked into a trippy art studio and rested in a hammock shopt. We had breakfast at 1 on the south end at a place called the Square 1 Cafe. I had french toast stuffed with berries and cream cheese. Side of home fries and bacon. Joanna had an egg-white omelette with toast. The service sucked, but it didn't matter too much.

Meandering through residential streets we headed north. I'm not sure what we did for the next hour but it was fun. We saw a pack of Tarpin feeding in the harbor. We ended up at a place that I cannot recall the name of. We sat for two hours drinking beers and eating a Napoleon while people watching.

We drove away from the sunset at about 5. We snatched the last table for two at Bentley's in Islamorada (not sure of the pronunciation even though we asked our waiter). Then we drove home.

In other news, teaching is totally okay!

2006-02-20T21:06:00.000-08:00

This is a funny story.

Anthony Castro and Korian Blake are two of the funniest and most clever students I have. They are the two class clowns in my fourth period (which is partly because they are the only males in a class of 18). Anthony is very smart.

I was giving an informal lecture on . . . something. The point is, I wanted their attention. I wasn't getting it from Anthony. As I'm talking, I walk over to Anthony's desk and put my hand on it. I was hoping to get him on task via the subtle proximity move. Instead, he takes out a blank piece of paper and starts scribbling. Carefully, he folds it in half and turns around to pass the note to Korian. This is literally happening 1 foot in front of me, so of course I grabbed the note.

The note read, "This is a test to see how nosey Mr. Moore is." I laughed pretty hard at that one. "You guys are funny," I said. I saw the look of satisfaction in Anthony's eyes, and couldn't really blame him for it. "Pretty funny," I said, and continued.

2006-02-09T17:20:00.000-08:00

I'm quizzing my kids on "Demand" tomorrow. They won't do as well on this quiz as they did on their stock market quiz. I'm going to have them grade their own. Of course they'll all magically get "A"s, but it doesn't matter. The threat of a quiz helps them focus, and they learn from their mistakes when they grade themselves (even if they cheat). Plus, it sucks trying to teach a class when half of them just failed a quiz. They seek revenge.

I like my grade system. I'm very transparent. My kids check their grades as soon as they come in every day. I rounded their GPAs to three places. Now, they know where they stand better. Trinicia Jackson in fourth period has the highest grade with a 3.75 A.

Barry Washington (AKA "Why I teach for America") has an A too. He failed last semester! It's awesome watching him excel. I wish him success. He handed me a business card the librarians made for him. He has a painting company. It's when I think about students like Barry that I realize how much the students change me. There's so much talk about how teachers change lives, but our lives get changed too.

I'm not excited about my lesson tomorrow. However, so much of a lesson is in its delivery. So, even if I plan a crappy lesson, I can still try to sell it with a good delivery. That's what I'm going to try to do tomorrow.

2006-02-02T16:55:00.000-08:00

I just ended a unit on the stock market. On the last day, my students were in the library using excel and nyse.com to create a report on their portfolios. It was beautiful. I just sat there and they did all the work. Some of them did finish early and watch videos, but that's not a battle I'm willing to fight in. Some students came during lunch to check their stocks today.

I started a project with my eighth period in which they create a report about playing a sport on the moon. I didn't create the project, but I am modifying it. Me and another teacher are working on it together. We showed a very "white" video on the moon to a group of 35 freshmen. It was pretty hilarious. I think some kids learned something. It was fun to teach.

I started the new unit with my fifth period. I kind of bumbled trying to explain demand. Here's the definition I tried to give: When you desire a good or service and can afford to buy it. They didn't do so well using "demand" in a sentence on their exit quizzes. Here's the definition I'm going to use in my other periods: When you buy something. Hmmm, maybe I should give them both definitions. These are the types of stuff I think about now.

Teaching can be stimulating, but you have to have your routine together first. My routine is more together. For example, I try to grade my students' work on the day they do it. That way I have immediate feedback on what they know and don't know. My seventh period is scoring awesome in part because they are behind other classes. My routine improves each day.

My kids learn, but I do somethings that are frowned upon by other teachers. For example, I don't worry about the state standards too much. The stock market is not part of the standards. As long as its useful to them and the students are excited about it, I think its good to teach it. I also yell sometimes. It can be effective if used sparingly.

I don't use the textbook. A lot of people I respect believe students need to be "reading on grade-level." I dodge the text in order to teach, because my students can't absorb the information through the textbook. I think I am going to push them to read more this semester. I can teach them well without the text, but I need to give them skills in addition to knowledge (although I did teach them to use excel and nyse.com).

Well, those are my thoughts. I'm going to try to write more.

John

2006-01-04T19:38:00.000-08:00

The weather is beautiful in South Florida this time of year. It's four days after New Year's and I'm wearing sandals and a tee-shirt.

I'm able to enjoy the weather because work has been good this week. It's the first week back from Winter Break and I'm starting a new class (Economics). As I said to my students, "Same teacher. Same students. Whole new class."

Here are some examples of what's different about my class:

I'm throwing pieces of paper at them. They don't need to bring their notebooks. I let them write on the handouts, and we're not reading out of the textbook. The copy machine is working, so I haven't had to shell out at Kinko's.
My room is more organized. I keep all their graded work in folders. I'm going to post grades every Monday. I rearranged my desk and cleaned up the room. I have a new map of the world and the united states. Vocabulary for Econ is taped all over the room.
My syllabus is beautiful. Here's the section on "Grading":
If a student asks whether something is graded, the answer will always be the same: “Yes, this is graded.”
Since I cannot possibly grade everything students do, 1-2 class assignments will be chosen at random per week and entered into the gradebook. Approximately 40% of your grade will be based on this class work.
Approximately 40% of your grade will be based on quiz and test scores.
The remaining 20% of your grade will be determined by your conduct/behavior in the class. Disrespect towards classmates or myself, profanity, prejudicial remarks, cheating, or off-task behavior will result in a lowering of this conduct grade.
This grading system is designed to insure that if you come to class regularly and do the assigned work, you will succeed (even if you do poorly on quizzes and tests).
Finally, and perhaps most important, my comfortable level as a teacher has increased. I don't avoid arguments as much. However, I also know when something isn't worth giving my time to.

This is not to say there aren't minor disasters everyday. Two of my girls got pregnant over break, one of whom is 14. "Krystyn Roberts" was late and I told her to go to lockout. She told me my "fuckin' cracker-ass breath stank." I shut the door. My first period is bad in part because the kids who have been skipping now seem to be interested in disrupting the kids who aren't skipping. "Shaneah Williams" ruins my otherwise beautiful eighth period of freshmen.

But, the weather is beautiful. I have a job and am enjoying making money. I have a girlfriend who is beautiful and sweet. My students seem to be learning and I feel proud of myself.

2005-11-26T23:12:00.000-08:00

I have been experimenting with role plays in my classes. The students like them, and they seem to learn from them. They are fun for me, because I get to use some creativity and humour in creating them.

Creating The Constitution

Scene 1: Philly, 1787

Virginia: Man, we beat those English up dawg! We got some problems though. Our country isn’t doing so great.
New Jersey (NJ): True. The Articles of Confederation are whack. Each of the states tries to do their own thang, and ain’t nobody in charge.
Virginia: Yeah, we gotta establish a government that divides power between the States and the National Government . . .
NJ: That’s Federalism.
Virginia: And also has three branches that will keep each other in check.
NJ: That’s the legislative (AKA Congress), the Executive (AKA the Prez), and the Judicial (AKA the Supreme Court).
Virginia: We are agreeing on a lot of stuff NJ.
NJ: I feel the same way. Let’s go get a drink homey.
Virginia: Aight then.

Scene 2: In Da Club: Philly, 1787
NJ: Cheers to agreeing on so much.
Virginia: Right on! [NJ and Virginia toast each other]. Now, about the legislative branch…
NJ: You mean Congress?
Virginia: Yeah, same thing. I think their should be 2 houses of Congress. It should be bicameral.
NJ: Hold up.
Virginia: Let me finish. There will be two (2) houses. Each state will get representation based on their population and how much cash they give to the National Government.
NJ: You selfish punk!
Virginia: Excuse me?
NJ: You would want it to be that way. That way large states like you will have the power. How can states like me and my homey Delaware compete? We don’t have large populations or too much cash. Each state should have equal representation.
Virginia: Well. . . tough luck.
NJ: I should backhand you!
[Connecticut enters and gets in between Virginia and New Jersey]
Connecticut: Stop this violence brothas! Where is the love?
Virginia: But he wants to have equal representation. C’mon Connecticut, obviously big states should have big power.
NJ: Whateva Virginia! Power should be equal so big bullies like you don’t dominate the Congress.
Connecticut: Please boys, stop the hate! We must compromise. You know what compromise means?
Virginia: Of course! It’s when you agree.
NJ: Yeah, when you settle a conflict.
Connecticut: Well, I gotta compromise for you two knuckleheads. We’ll have 2 houses. We’ll call one the Senate. Representation in the Senate will be equally divided among the states.
NJ: I like that.
Connecticut: And Virginia, the other house will be called the House of Representatives. Representation in the House will be decided by population.
Virginia: I like that.
Connecticut: Aight guys?
NJ: Aight then.
Virginia: Aight.
[Virginia and NJ give a high five]

2005-11-22T17:33:00.000-08:00

I haven't posted in a while for two reasons.

First, school really sucks. My kids yell and make fun of me every day. The hallways are out of control (Speaking of, I think I caught a new security guard finishing smoking a cigarette or joint today. I couldn't prove it because he was at the end of the hall. However, it turns out the guy has done some time.) Pressure from my administration sucks. I'm exhausted during the week. I feel like I'm giving a bad impression of the situation when I blog about it. It bothers me when I reflect on my blogging sometimes. I don't want to reinforce negative stereotypes of what inner-city black people are like.

I also haven't posted for awhile because I have been busy with women.

So, I'm going to keep this post completely positive.

Coral Walker is a smiling, talkative, slightly overweight student who wears black shoes, black pants, and a white "A-rab" that usually bears pit stains. He is bookishly smart. The students would make fun of him if I was not in the room. Stefan Elleby is a comedic class clown of sorts who retains information as good as any of my students but reads and writes at 8'th grade levels. He knows current events better than I do. His phone rang in class the other day and he did a routine pretending it was Condoleeza Rice. Not a great student, but a very smart young man.

Coral and Stefan put on a show yesterday in third period. We were doing a mock trial of McCulloch vs. Maryland. Coral played a lawyer for the state of Maryland. Stefan played a lawyer for McCulloch which was representing the National government. They argued heatedly, interjecting their lucent thoughts on State vs. National powers with cracks on each other's hairdos. I laughed along with my students for the whole period. I loved my job at that point.

I used a "football system" in my eighth period today that worked really well. Each row was represented on the board at the 50 yard line. One inzone was titled "CANDY". The other was titled "PUNISHMENT (warning, referral, etc.)". The rows could move up or down depending on their behavior. It was one of the calmest days ever! Those kids love candy I guess. I'm going to offer granola bars next time.

In other good news, I'm going to San Francisco to see my family tomorrow. I cannot wait. I'm excited to get back to the West Coast and be with the people I love.

2005-10-21T14:24:00.000-07:00

This was Homecoming Week.

Monday was dress like a "hobo" day. Derrick Chestern walked in 30 minutes late with a tire around his neck and crack powder around his lips (like Chappelle). The middle of the week was exhausting but I taught some good lessons. We did skits about amendments 11-27. We had great informal conversations about what activities they learned the most from. My students are hilarious. I laughed a lot during the middle of the week.

Today was Friday. Sharai Kelsey came in 45 minutes late, didn't do any work, and then told me that "this isn't education. Nothing in this school ain't about education." She got into a fight with Ronnie Williams and called his side of the class "monkeys." I was calm the whole time. I hugged Ronnie and got him to ignore her. The rest of the day went okay.

The pep rally started at 2:30. I played in the faculty/staff basketball game. I got a cheap steal, a couple of uncalled fouls, some rebounds, and I made one of two free throws. Afterwards, the football team came down and got the students hyped. Then, the Seniors did their skit. It was funny. They got some of the teachers to put tinfoil grills in their mouths. Everything was really going great.

Then a brawl erupted between some football players and some thugs. I was standing below the bleacher that it happened on. Most of the students stampeded off the bleachers, but some fighters stayed. It was violent. I saw about 3 or 4 mini-fights between individuals going on. Two cops and the principal rushed in. They were violent as well, and personally dragged out three troublemakers. I gained a new appreciation for my school and my principal watching the prinicipal get in students faces. It's a war, but there are some soldiers in the fight.

It all made me so sad. Couldn't they not fight for one fucking hour? Security and the principal got things under control, and I walked back in to cart some notebooks for grading out to my truck. The veterans were smiling and back to business as usual after the fight. Apparently, what had saddened me so much was just part of the routine. It was really healthy for me to see them just moving forward from the situation, even though I know it must kill them to see such violence.

2005-10-07T18:27:00.000-07:00

I'm going to write about Bryant Kapley. I don't think he would mind if I used his real name.

Mr. Kapley is a nerd. His voice whines and his fashion sense is a little sloppy. He talks and talks and talks even when no one is listening. He wrote his master's on the millenium bug. I wrote him off as a nerd at New Teacher Orientation. Everyone dogs on Mr. Kapley. He hasn't been a very good teacher because he cannot be mean to the kids. But is that so bad? The problem is, you have to be mean to teach at my school.

His experience at school was a nightmare. On time he had about 60 kids in his class, 20 of whom weren't supposed to be there. Kids make fun of him all the time and all he can do is smile. Students turn off the lights in his class and pour rubbing alcohol on him.

He stayed for one grading period. He is quitting and will be gone on Tuesday. He didn't need to come today because it was Teacher Planning Day, but he did anyways. He helped me unwrap shrinkwrapped textbooks in boxes for 3 hours. He talked and talked and talked, but he had some things to say. He talked about the students, and how in the end it was they who lost out. Perhaps he was not a great teacher, but those children treated him horribly. He is a nice man. He talked about being ashamed of his father's lack of education and about coming to realize that he had so much to learn from him. His views on the Holocaust, Gay Rights, and slavery were thought provoking as well. I left him for an hour to meet some furniture being delivered to my house and he kept stickering the World History textbooks. I worked in my room for awhile and he stayed in the storage room stickering textbooks. It was a huge help.

Teaching is not for everyone but you are not a failure if you can't do it. Mr. Kapley is a genius. He is simply too smart, and perhaps too nice to be at a place like my school. I wish him luck.-

2005-10-05T16:33:00.000-07:00

I was very prepared for today. I had ALL my grades done for the first nine weeks. I had copies made. I had cleaned my room and rearranged the desks into groups on Tuesday. My lesson plan was a creative two-part review for a BIG test next Tuesday. The first part was low on Bloom's, a simple competition to test them for knowledge. The second part was more complicated and ambitious. I had separate groups prepare an outline for one of the possible essay questions on the test and share with the rest of the class. That way, the whole class should conceivably have the outlines for all the questions. I thought things would go simply.

In second period, not surprisingly, they did go smoothly. My students weren't as familiar with how to support an argument as I thought they would be, but I taught a good mini-lesson on it on the fly. They participated and some decent learning took place.

My seventh period seriously pissed me off. They ruined my day just as it had started. We could not get through the first part of the review because a rebel group in the back left part of the room seceded from the rest of the class. The talking was contagious and they didn't learn anything.

My fourth period kept cheating and calling the answers out loud, so the game I had planned took a nosedive. Then Lunch. Then, a "Code Red" was announced on the intercom. I knew that meant some s*** was going down, but I wasn't sure what the students and I were supposed to do. Thankfully, they announced that all students should be in a classroom or office and that teachers were not to allow anyone out of the room for any reason. It was Code Red for 50 minutes. Considering the situation, my kids did pretty well with the second half of the review. Some of them even listened to me when I said it would be a smart idea to copy down the outlines. It turned out there was a fight and possible weapon sighting in the student parking lot. I feel like I got beat up today, especially since I was so prepared. Preparation is a necessity when teaching, but it is not a guarantee of success.

2005-09-26T20:04:00.000-07:00

Today was FCAT retake day. Very little learning took place. I had 11 students in my first block, second block was skipped, and I had 8 in my third block. I had planning after lunch, in which I had to cover for a teacher who was interviewing for another job (who, by the way, is the incompetent, annoying, but nice guy who "took" my job, and has had a hellish time controlling his classes). Half of his students had no books to do their work in so I annoyed them until they helped me decorate my room.

My room looks good now. Student work is up all over the place. I had my students do an art project where they created a picture that represented one of the first 10 amendments to the Constitution. Most picked the 1st (freedom of speech, worship, etc), 2nd (right to bear arms), 5th (search and seizure) or 8'th (cruel and unusual punishment). So I have 4 HUGE murals around the back part of my room. I also have some Freshmen work up.

I had more kids than seats in the last period of the day because I had to take care of students whose teacher was proctoring the FCAT. I focused on my kids, but the lesson took a nosedive in the first 5 minutes. So, very little learning happened in my class today, but I got a lot done. I stayed at school to finish decorating my room and grade.

I'm sleeping in until 5:45 tomorrow which feels late now. I'm tired when I get home but I am used to waking up early. The routine is starting to feel a little bit comfortable.

2005-09-24T23:44:00.000-07:00

Last night Jesse, my housemate, and I went to an Argentian carniceria. We ordered $27 dollars worth of "flat steak" and have been eating ever since. I really like to cook. It has become a sort of therapy for me. I am very thankful that my parents bought us a grill because I use it ALL the time.

I like to come home, have a beer, and start cooking. I find myself checking out the Food Network when I am channel surfing. I think that if I wasn't teaching I would be working in a restaurant. Right now I am cooking up some fajitas.

I went to "The Grove" tonight which is the area around University of Miami. It was fun to go back to a college bar. I found myself looking down my nose at sorority girls and college dudes, but I prefer a place like The Grove rather than South Beach. Even though I finished school 6 months ago, I feel like college is so far away from me. College women still look pretty good though.

Well, tomorrow is going to suck. I plan on grading, lesson planning, and doing some laundry. Our gas is out, so I'll be going to a laundromat. That's a whole other story.

2005-09-17T10:51:00.000-07:00

Friday was progress report day. The students carry their reports with them for the day, and each teacher fills it out during their class periods. It was very mellow, because I saw each of my classes for about 50 minutes, and they did independent work while I took care of the paperwork. Even my freshmen were relatively mellow for most of the period.

"Linden" is one of my freshmen who keeps me up at night. I am not sure what happened to his parents, but he lives with his older sister. He can be charming, but he has a very bad attitude sometimes. He goes back and forth between trying to please and insisting on being defiant. I heard him swearing on Friday so I told him he would stay for a minute with me after class. He said, "F*** that." When I said, "Excuse me?" he said, "F*** that, F*** this class, and F*** you." I took him in the hallway immediately and told hime I would be calling home. He told me he didn't give a F***.

I was sitting next to him with three minutes to go on the side table. He asked me why I was sitting so close to him, and I said it was because I liked him. "Tanesha" snickered, and I heard someone say something about me being gay. Then, Linden seemed to snap. "Are you gay Mr. Moore?" he said. "Totally innapropriate," I responded. He mimicked me..."Totally innapropriate," he said. I ignored him, but all of a sudden he was in my face. "Do you like pussy Mr. Moore?" I was shocked. I had no idea how to respond because I really didn't expect this sort of behavior from Linden. He continued. "I bet you have a small dick," he said. I just looked at him, and grabbed his arm. He struggled a little bit and the bell rang. I tried to restrain him from leaving, but he got away. I am calling his sister this weekend, and I am not allowing him back in until we have a conference and he gives me a sincere apology.

A lot of my students think I'm gay. I'm not the picture of masculinity that they are used to. I am white, nice, respectful towards women, and some of my physical motions can be on the effeminate side. My students are used to men who are stoic and physical. I am neither, and I think it throws them off. Linden's behavior would have sent me into tears a month ago, but it hardly phased me at all on Friday. That sort of thing just rolls off me now. My armour is pretty thick.

2005-09-09T23:08:00.000-07:00

There are different worlds in Miami. It's a big city, but it doesn't really mix. You have the Jews in North Beach, the Hatians in in Little Haiti, the Blacks in Liberty City, the Spanish Speakers in Hialeah, the Whites in Downtown. These are all generalizations, but generally, Miami is separated into parts. I teach in Liberty City. I am definitely a guest there, but I feel welcome.

Sometimes you here statistics about Miami being one of the poorest cities in the country. There is a lot of poverty here, but those statistics don't take into account the wealth in the parts right out of Miami proper. There's Sunny Isles, Miami Beach, and Aventura. Along 81st St and NE 2'nd does look like another country, but there are a lot of nice cars driving buy it every day.

The business culture here sucks, but nobody seems to mind. Stuff just takes longer to get done. For example, there's been "construction" on the JFK causeway but I have yet to see "construction" going on. People don't keep appointments. Late is a relative term.

The traffic sucks, but I don't deal with it too much.

The thing I love about Miami is the diversity I see. Normally I don't appreciate it, but when I reflect, I am very glad that I see different cultures every day. I spend a lot of time in my school's culture, but I am also part of a neighborhood culture, and a teacher culture. I see Hatians, Bahamians, Mexicans, Blacks, Brazillians, and Argentinians all the time. In the streets where I live, I hear more non-english dialogue than english dialogue.

I also really like the weather. It's been humid, but it's supposed to be beautiful all winter. I'll be swimming in the ocean in November. That is pretty cool.

2005-09-08T21:10:00.000-07:00

I love my students even when they are bad. In fact, the bad ones are often the ones who really get to my heart. The truth is, they are all good kids. Even "Daniel," a freshmen who always walks in with a sour look on his face and sort of scares me. Let me just repeat that for all those out there who think these kids are unsavable. They are all good kids.

They're just getting f***ed. Their school is disorganized and under equipped. Many of their parents are dead or in jail. Drugs are all over the place, and their culture reinforces young motherhood and gansterism. I am finding out that my "worst" students are also the ones who have had to deal with most of these problems. "Shatha" has skipped about 80% of class periods. He seems to lack all motivation. Both his parents died of AIDS. "Shandra" is defiant and downright mean sometimes. Her father killed her uncle, and just got out of jail. I don't even know what's up with my freshmen "Daniel," but I have a feeling he's been through a lot more shit than I have.

Generally, things are going well for me. I have more time for myself now that I'm into a groove. My students are done with the Constitution. Now we are moving into civil liberties, and I am really excited to teach it. I played three sets with Alex this evening. I am glad tomorrow is Friday. I plan on grading and laying low this weekend.

2005-09-04T20:28:00.000-07:00

In the words of Ice Cube, today was a good day. I got up around noon, had a bagel and water. After that, I played tennis with my friend Alex and sweated profusely. After a lunch of steak and eggs, we played poker with some of my teaching buddies for three hours. I lost, but it was a lot of fun. Alex and I ate dinner at Las Vacas Gordas, and the meat was amazing. I ate stomach and blood sausage for the first time. I think I'm going to bed early tomorrow and do some grading in the morning.

I think that in some ways, your occupation really does define who you are. I am still getting used to the idea of being labeled a teacher, even though that's exactly what I am. But I am more of a work-to-live type person than a live-to-work one. My job is not all of me, but it is a very important part. I am a teacher, but I am also someone who just wants to be with friends, eat good food, and relax. Anyways, today was a good day.

2005-09-01T18:50:00.000-07:00

Today was a big turnaround. They are going to fix my driver's side windshield while I am at school. I should get the rest of my truck fixed within the week. I went to bed at 9 last night because I was so exhausted. I got up at 4 this morning, and got a lot of work done before school.

Classes are going well. I basically just have a line of work for my students to do. The teacher term for it is "differentiation" but it's basically just letting students work at their own pace. "Martin" is about 25% as far through the line of work as "Freddie," who is my smartest student. Both Martin and Freddie work hard. When it comes to grades, Freddie will get a slightly better grade. The trick is to keep all students working all the time. Needless to say, that is very difficult. I pretty much spend the class period walking from student to student, answering questions, and keeping them on task. It's exhausting, but discipline is less of an issue when each student always has something to do.

When my students ask me a question, I usually respond with a question. My students get so annoyed with it, but I think it is sort of becoming my style. There is a time for just giving the answer, but my students are too used to that sort of treatment. It's so much better when you push them and then they discover the answer on their own. But sometimes they just give you a blank stare. I hate that stare.

Well, tomorrow is Friday and a three day weekend. I am looking forward to sleeping.

2005-08-29T10:36:00.000-07:00

First, the bad news. After I thought things couldn't any worse, they did. My car was broken into and my two teacher bags were taken along with one of my nice shoes and of course, my stereo. It won't get fixed for awhile because of the hurricane.

It didn't really phase me when I saw my window busted out. "Well, that's about right," I thought.

The good news is that we have electricity and I am alive. Things are going to be okay.

2005-08-28T05:23:00.000-07:00

Life is very tough for me right now. I am a little tired of people telling me that what doesn't kill me will make me stronger. I thought I was at my lowest point on Monday. I was sitting at "Miami Subs" alone waiting to eat my dinner. I was dealing with the pain of a breakup in addition to all that was happening at school. My sub tasted like barf. Then, a man came up to me and handed me a card. I thanked him, but he didn't move on. I realized he was homeless and expected me to pay him fifty cents for the crappy postcard of Miami. I told him "no." He then told me, "I hope you choke on that sandwich and die." That was Monday.

The Almighty gave me a break for a few days, but then He punished myself and the rest of southern Florida with hurricane Katrina on Wednesday night. It was actually nice because I didn't have to go to school on Thursday or Friday. But, there is an actual power line down in our backyard, so we will probably not have electricity for a week. I need to do laundry, buy new groceries, and figure out some way to teach this week. I rely so much on my home office because there are few resources at school. With all that is going on, the week ahead appears like a mountain. I am tired just thinking about it.

I think I should end on a more positive note. I have much to be thankful for. I was not one of seven people killed by the hurricane, and the storm was not as powerful here as it is going to be in other parts of the United States. I am also thankful for my friends and family, who have been there for me this last week. I love and appreciate you all.

2005-08-22T09:36:00.000-07:00

No training could have prepared me for teaching to my Seniors today. They were devastated. Apparently, the boy who was shot on Friday night was at least a decent student.(http://www.miami.com/mld/miamiherald/news/local/12442499.htm). From what I gather from students and the newspaper, he was funny, driven, and hard-working. These kids grow up together, so they all knew him. Second period went alright, but no one really wanted to share, so we took a moment of silence and went on with the lesson.

Fourth period was traumatic. When I asked how many people knew him, most of the class raised their hand. I had three girls enter the classroom in tears. One of my boys began crying pretty soon into the period. Again, no one wanted to share. As a student explained to me during lunch, "They just saw him alive the other day, and now he's dead. They're dealing with that." So, I had them free write how they were feeling for the first half of class. I think it was good for some, but some just put their heads down or stared off into space. Plenty continued crying. Two girls in the back seemed unaware of the tragedy and were giggling. I wrote them a post-it note telling them to knock it off. I think they caught my drift. I didn't know what to say. I didn't know how to relate to their pain. When no one wanted to share what they had written, I was not sure what I was going to do. Before the lunch bell rang, I said I would be teaching when they came back. I went ahead with the lesson even though probably only half of the class got anything out of it.

I did a moment of silence in 7'th period, and then taught a great lesson on the first 3 articles of the Constitution. This was big, because seventh period was the group that refused to count off in fives or get out of their seats for group work 2 weeks ago.

Eighth period sucked as usual, but my kids aren't really wearing on me any more. They're pretty much crazy and I'm pretty much okay with that. I tried to do a moment of silence and I couldn't get them to be quiet.

2005-08-21T14:01:00.000-07:00

Grading sucks. It really really really sucks. Enough said.

2005-08-20T09:37:00.000-07:00

I went to see my school play a local rival in football last night at Miami-Dade community college. The game started at 7:30, but my friend and I did not arrive until about 7:50. People were everywhere. It was madness. 10,000 people for a high school football game! Each cheering section had a side of the field. There was no room to sit on our side of the field. I saw some of my students, but the majority of the crowd was family and community members. It was a sea of blue and gold. They were selling conche, big greasy hamburgers, and some sort of mango fruit blend. The anouncer was a character. I can't do justice to him on this blog, but if you call me I'll give an impression.

The quality of play was unbelievable. Both quarterbacks had incredibly strong arms and their accuracy was pretty awesome too. And the hits! Oh my god! And of course, everyone was fast. The energy in the air was palpable. The half time show was college-level. They had a marching band, flaggettes, and majorettes. The marching band played a few old favorites (i.e., Marvin Gaye) and then got into renditions of Snoop Dogg and Beyonce jams. If the band members weren't playing, they were aiming taunting dances at the other stands.

It was interesting being one of the only white people. Everyone knew I was a teacher, because why else would a white guy show up to an innercity high school football game? Everyone I met was very warm and nice, but it's impossible not to think about white privilege when you are in a situation like that. I mean, I felt comfortable going to the game. But would a black person feel comfortable if they were the only one with dark skin in a sea of 10,000 tennis fans? I feel comfortable going back and forth between their turf and mine, but I'm not sure if they feel the same. The truth may be that because of my white skin, it is ALL my turf. It's not about racism. It's about privilege.

So, back to the game. We were not doing as well as we should have been. We were supposed to be trouncing them, but in the fourth quarter, the game was tied at 27. They had the ball with about 2 minuts left. The quarterback dropped back and sailed the ball 40 yards down the sideline. Just as the ball was coming into the hands of a receiver, a gold jersey #27 swooshed in and made an interception. The receiver was immediately blocked out of bounds, and the rest of the secondary formed a wall around #27. The player paused for his blockers and took off down the sideline. The crowd roared. He made it all the way to the 7 yard line before being tackled. The Bull cheer started up: "Whoooo. Whoooo. Whoooo."

#27 sits in the back row of my seventh period. His name is "Xeryon." He gets his work in. So, on second down, a pass is made for a touchdown. And who caught the pass? Another one of my students. "Tyrone" is one of my best students and one of the nicest people I have ever met. A shriek came from behind me, "That's my boy! That's my boy!" Tyrone's mother was down to see him from North Carolina to see him play and I was glad to get the oppourtunity to meet her. We left at that point, but I guess the Bulls got another interception and touchdown in the closing seconds. My school 40, Other school 27.

I found out this morning that a "17 year old male" was shot after the game in the parking lot. I am trying to relate to the community, but I cannot relate to that. I am so upset. All I can seem to think of is a question: Why?

2005-08-18T10:19:00.000-07:00

My fourth period was behind my other classes because they missed Tuesday due to an assembly. I made the mistake today of trying to rush through a lecture. They were totally lost, and it was my fault. I moved too fast, and I wasn't organized. I didn't have enough structure. The behavior got worse and worse as the lecture dragged on. My lesson had taken a nose dive.

I called it off. With 15 minutes left, I didn't have anyone paying attention, and they were starting to really hate me. So, we played two truths and a lie. It's a game where you write down two things that are true about yourself and one thing that is a lie. You read it out loud and everyone tries to guess what your lie was. I figured that if my lecture was a bomb, I could at least get to know my students a little better. "Karen" went first, and that's when I got my wakeup call. "I told my daddy to kill my uncle, I've been arrested, and I am the second most sexy girl in the world." The last one is the lie of course because Karen, apparently, is the most sexy girl on earth. She elaborated on the first truth saying, "It's a long story but ask me about some time and I'll tell you. My daddy just got out of prison last year."

Karen gives me a hard time usually in class. She is one of those students that bugs you because you know she is right. She kept telling me my lesson was boring today, and it absolutely was. But sometimes she is flat out disrespectful. She has a lot of anger I think. I'm not going to make excuses for her disrespectful behavior just because she has endured so much more than myself. It is tempting, but I don't believe these kids need anyone else making excuses for them.

When she shared, I struggled to hide the surprise in my facial expression. I was both surprised and startled by the revelation. My students are starting to teach me.

2005-08-15T14:54:00.000-07:00

Today was not bad, so therefore, it was good.

First, Third, and Fifth periods were all pretty tame. My students were more responsive to the group work when I explained the purpose of it to them very explicitly. I told them that there were two reasons for doing the group work. One, was that it was a better way to learn. If you have to read about something, then write about it, then teach it, you are much more likely to remember than if you just found the answers in the book. They responded with blank stares to that one. The second reason resonated a bit more. Splitting it up in groups is better than reading the whole chapter independently.

Seventh period, because of their behavior on Friday, was given book work. About 10 of the students were loud, obnoxious, and not doing their work. I didn't pay them too much attention. Most of the students got to work on the mound of textbook work I had assigned for the week. Those playing around will suffer the consequences eventually. Boy, are they going to be pissed when they get their grades back. But they will have nothing to blame but themselves.

And now, for the best news of my entire life: An ROTC seargeant saved my life today. He came in with a list of twenty student names into my eighth period (the one with all the demonic freshmen) and took them away. He took a random sampling of students but I got a real kick out of the frightened looks of students who were being hauled away by a man in uniform. The administration gets a pat on the back for lowering my class size. Now, if they could just get kids out of the halls....

Mr. Moore

2005-08-13T10:30:00.000-07:00

There must be something about Fridays. They have brought me to tears two Fridays in a row.

My first, third, and fifth periods were all pretty good. Third period was interrupted by my first fire drill, which was pretty funny because neither the kids nor half the teachers had any idea what to do. I smelled some marijuana smoke in the bathroom on my lunch break. All in all, the day was going pretty well.

Then came my seventh period Seniors. I have had students transferring out of my seventh period because of the students in that class, but I didn't think they were that bad. That is, until, today. I saw them turn against me right before my very eyes. I started out with a pretty fun Do Now activity. They seemed to get into it. Then, we had our first vocab quiz. Almost none of them had studied, so they did very poorly. Probably 5 of them passed in the entire class. I told them the only way they would fail is if they cheated. I caught one cheating so I failed him. They were pissed.

Then, I had them count off in fives because I had planned for them to do group work. They groaned, but the first two rows counted off. Some defiant girls in the middle row refused to count their numbers. I started them over about 5 times, and each time, the girls in the middle row would not say their numbers. So, I counted off for them. They would not move into their groups. That's right. They would not get up out of their seats and move into their groups. Talk about an interesting power dynamic. I was f***ed. My lesson counted on them being in groups. I just gave up, and the last 10 minutes were a total waste.

I can't control my freshmen. Same as Thursday. Kids were roaming the halls and trying to get into my class. My freshmen wouldn't do their workbooks. I was actually hit in the back of my head with a paper wad. It was madness. So, to recap, I had no control over the last two periods of the day for Friday.

Oh yeah, the new principal seems to be ruining the school. The veteran teachers are getting pissed because discipline has never been as bad as it is this year. To make matters worse, the new principal has broughten in a cadre from his old school that excels in nothing but giving lip service. Since my department chair is perhaps the most vocal representative of the faculty, the social studies department has been receiving an extra helping of lip service. Apparently, we are a rebellious department that needs to be quelled. Another teacher made some interesting points which I will reproduce here:

My school is a community school. Most of the parents of our students also graduated from it. Because it is a community school, the teachers and community take a special pride in it. They are not going to let things continue like this. Teachers are scared. Students are scared. There are multiple incidents with the police everyday. Two weeks in, and there is almost no meaningful learning taking place. I think the principal will be out before I am.

2005-08-11T17:08:00.000-07:00

Today was a bad day. I'm just going to use this post to vent. My seniors were bored. They honestly don't seem to care about what is going on in the world in terms of current events. They tell me my lessons are boring, but at least I'm not just having them use the textbook. They are constantly giving me reasons why I should let them out of class: counselor appointments, trips to the clinic, they need to get their folder for another class, and they need to call their family. My best students are getting transferred to honors or to another teacher. Period 5 was my favorite, but during a conversation about the NCAA's decision not to let FSU use the Seminole as its mascot, they were making racist comments about the native americans. All of my Seniors are incredibly lazy when it comes down to it.

My freshmen class was good for about 10 minutes today, then they went back to being themselves. They yell. They fight. They swear. And there were 43 of them today. The halls are totally unpoliced. Students are constantly moving around the halls unchecked in herds. How am I supposed to teach when there are kids not even in my class banging on the door, or worse, opening the door and yelling obscene things into the classroom? I am really frustrated right now, and I have no idea what I am going to teach tomorrow.

Mr. Moore

2005-08-08T16:04:00.000-07:00

I did not mess around today. I did not smile, or laugh, or expect anything but the absolute best behavior from my students. Periods 2 & 4 were okay. There are 17 young women and one guy in my fourth period. The girls don't really like me. They don't want to do any of the work I ask them to do. They would rather do worksheets. They expect school to be easy, and they are frustrated that I ask more of them than other teachers. When I ask them to do something, it never fails that I get one of the following responses:

"Why can't we just do it our own way?"
"Mrs. So-and-so didn't ever make us do it that way?"
"This isn't fun."
"Man, this is stupid."

When I thought about teaching, I never thought I would be the teacher kids hate. But, I must admit, I'm sort of getting used to the idea. As long as they are learning, I don't really care if they like me or want to kill me.

I kicked two students out of my freshmen class today. One was "Teisha." I had a home visit with her and her mom this weekend. We agreed that Teisha would have one warning and then I would kick her out. I gave her two. When she said "F*** this," I told her to go to my department chair's room. She did, then she bolted from him, and got security. Her and a security officer came to my door and I just about shut the door in their face. I told them there was no way she was getting back into my class. Two minutes later she came back with the vice principal. The vice principal's jaw dropped when I told her I had made a home visit, and I think she genuinely took my side.

I talked with Teisha's Mom again tonight. She was pissed. I stood firm, and told her Teisha would not be allowed in my class until we had another conference, this time at school. "How is she going to learn then?" she asked. A good question. Then she explained the job interviews she was going to tomorrow, and that she could not meet until later. I genuinely feel for Teisha's mother. She is a kind woman and she wants to do the best for her child. She is in a difficult position. Anyways, we will be meeting tomorrow at school when she is back from her interviews.

It wears on you when all of your students do not like you, but my armour is getting thicker every day.

Mr. Moore

2005-08-05T16:19:00.000-07:00

My seniors are wonderful. Their desire to learn, and their willingness to work hard inspires me. It is amazing how little they know about American government and current events. It is most certainly not their fault. They simply haven't been given the same opportunities as the rest of society's children. I had great one-on-one time with "El" after my other 5'th period Seniors had gone to a special event for Seniors who had passed the FCAT. He is not reading at a high school level. He can say the words, but has little comprehension. You can see it in his eyes though. He wants to learn.

My freshmen made me cry today. I stayed up late preparing a lesson plan, seating chart, and agenda. With the positive phone calls made last night, I have about 25 of them completely on my side, but the rest of the 37 constantly test me. There are about 4 who hate me. It is their mission to disrupt my class. They are not there to learn. I knew that 14 year olds could be this cruel, but I didn't know their cruelty could still bother me.

Let me explain what I'm dealing with. All I want to do is learn their names. On Tuesday, I had a seating chart prepared randomly. Some of the students did not sit in their assigned sits and I didn't pick up on it. They have no IDs, so there is no way I can for sure know who is who. I could not learn names, because their behavior was so disrespectful. Wednesday, I had a break. Yesterday, I had a chart at the front of the room that they read their names off of. My troublemakers did not sit in their seats. I called them by their wrong names as they went up the consequence ladder. When I told them I was calling their parents, they told me that "that's not my name." Some refused to give me their real names. Since there is always so much noise in the room, it's hard to handle specific situations. There is always another fire to put out. Today, I put their names on notecards and placed them on desks. Hahah, I thought. Nope. They switched the cards around.

One student came in late without a schedule. I told him to go to the media center to pick up a schedule. He came back with 15 minutes left and said "They're not giving them out anymore." "What is your name?" I asked. "John Smith," he said. "Okay, Mr. Smith have a seat." I went to the wall to push the emergency button. I knew this kid was full of it. Well, my emergency button does not work. Luckily, my department chair checked in with me, and grabbed the kid by the backpack to kick him out. The place is like a prison. This John Smith's only purpose was to come in and make my class hell for me. School isn't about learning for some of these students. It makes my heart ache for the students (and there are A LOT of them) who really do want to learn.

After a good cry, I got back on my feet. These kids want me gone. They want me to quit. Speaking of, another corps member in my high school quit tonight. Well, I'm not going to quit. Although this might sound egoistic, it's not about reaching these kids anymore. This is war. This is a game. I am going to win. I will never quit.

Mr. Moore

2005-08-04T21:48:00.000-07:00

I went to war with my freshmen today. I had a new seating chart arranged. They were copying down rules for the first 10 minutes and things were okay. I gave out warnings right away. Next, I had "Shawna" speak to them about behavior and what's expected in high school. "Shawna" is one of my awesome seniors who has turned herself around and is going to be very successful. They listened pretty well, but I still gave out more warnings. Some of them got write-ups, the second stage of my consequence ladder.

Then, things quickly fell apart as we went over the rules as a class. They do not know how to behave, and they hate being reminded of what the rules are. "Teisha" was so good at the beginning of the period, but she started to get very angry towards the end. She talked back to me twice, and moved her self up to the third stage of the consequence ladder: A Call Home. "Why don't you give me your number, so I can call you!" she said. "Excuse me?" I responded. "You heard me." Teisha walked over to the door and yelled out down the hall "Security!" I looked at her dumbfounded. "I'm calling security on you," she said.

"Teisha, step outside with me right now." My plan was to send her to my department chair's room. He had volunteered to take students who needed to calm down. Here comes the funny/not funny part. Teisha ran down the hall yelling "Security! Security!" I suppose I was shocked, but I had a class to teach. I shut the door and continued. "Teisha made a decision. She will have to deal with the consequences. Okay, let's look at rule number 4..."

So, what are the consequences for Teisha. She gets a referral, which is a huge deal. I am legally responsible for Teisha even if she is out of my class. My department chair didn't blink when he heard what happened. He immediately insisted that I do a referral. That is the only sure way for me to cover my ass. I didn't want to ever resort to referrals, but I think it was the right decision. I have talked with Teisha's mom twice tonight (I also called half of the freshmen class with positive comments for their parents) and she seems to be on my side.

Tomorrow, I am teaching them content, and the rules will be enforced instead of explicitly taught. Sorry this entry is messy. It's late, and I am very tired.

Mr. Moore

2005-08-02T16:40:00.000-07:00

This is going to be harder than anything I have ever done.

My schedule got extremely messed up in the intricacies and intrigues of the Miami-Dade Public School system. On Friday, I had to give up my keys to another teacher and was told I "didn't show up" on the master schedule. I took it pretty well. Things had been going too perfect for me. It was about time the other shoe dropped.

On Monday, I had to "hold" a reading class. Basically, I was a substitute for a day. It was pretty easy. The students were just checking me out and they didn't really test me. The day was still completely chaotic. Students were not registered. Parents were running about. The schedule changed period by period. The only goal of the first day, as my principle said, was to "Count them, feed them, and send them home." I taught a mini-lesson on intonation, and the students had some fun with it. I read to my homeroom class and we had pretty good discussions.

I got my permanent classroom and schedule on Monday afternoon. My room is pretty good for my school. I have windows whose hurricane shutters actually work. I have a computer, overhead, and a lockable chest. The previous teacher left me plenty of posters to cover up the walls that badly need to be painted. My schedule is pretty good as well. I teach six periods of American government to Seniors. I teach one period of Freshmen Orientation.

My Seniors were pretty manageable today. They definitely viewed me as an outsider. I don't fit in because I am white and I wear a tie. They made some very intelligent comments and they were well behaved for the most part. In fourth period, "Shary" gave me a very hard time. Shary has bleached yellow hair with pink bangs and huge earings. She is medium height and stout. She is incredibly smart. She tested me the whole time. She didn't like the raising hand rule. She thought the rules and procedures lesson was extraneous. "Just give me the work and I'll do it," she said. "You don't need to treat me like a kid." I had finished explaining that there was no profanity or putdowns in my class. I said that racial slurs, homophobic and sexist comments were included in this category. About a minute later, Shary said "nigga" about something. I jumped on it immediately, giving her a warning. She raised her hand, so I called on her. She proceded to lecture me, and the entire class, on the origins of the word nigga and the differences between nigga and nigger. She made some good points. I stressed that whatever the case, that word would not be used in my class. Shary shut down until a class discussion on the state of nature at the end. Fun stuff.

The most amazing thing happened in my eighth period class. Satan's children, disguised as freshmen, walked into my class and started pushing me towards suicide. Then, more of these demons came in. Then, some more. Five minutes into class, I had 37 terror children making a mockery of my training and my lesson. I didn't get through my rules and procedures, and I didn't get through the name activity. For about 15 minutes, I had NO control of my class. They would not keep quiet. I couldn't give them any information because they weren't listening. I tried the TFA tricks. They didn't work. Some of them (like the call and response to settle the buzz) made the situation worse. I was so frustrated and helpless. Finally, I tried the last thing I could think of. A veteran teacher had told me that he always throws a desk on the first day of school. I grabbed a desk from the front of the room and threw it towards the chalk board. I sent fear into the spines of about 70% of the class. The other 30% thought it was funny, and continued to terrorize me. I kept two students after class. I'm calling a combination of students and parents tonight. A new seating chart will be ready for Thursday when I see them next. Tonight I'm going to nail down my lessons for tomorrow and get some much needed sleep. I can't wait for the weekend when I'll have two full days to get more prepared.

Mr. Moore

2005-07-27T21:14:00.000-07:00

Moving is almost as hard as teaching.

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

2005-07-13T19:25:00.000-07:00

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.

2005-07-09T13:18:00.000-07:00

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.

2005-07-06T19:37:00.000-07:00

"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.

2005-07-01T20:39:00.000-07:00

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.

2005-06-27T16:12:00.000-07:00

I broke up a fight today.

I was getting feedback from my teaching coach today in the school cafeteria during lunch. All of a sudden, I heard yells coming from one of the tables. I looked over, and a group of African American girls were standing up, making a ruckus. I didn't know what was going on.

Then I saw a young man running around the tables. My teaching coach was talking, but I could not concentrate on what she was saying. I realized that the young man was not simply running, but was in fact chasing a young woman. The two students were staring at each other across one of the long tables. The group of girls were smiling maliciously and making a lot of noise. "Someone needs to do something," my coach said.

I hesitated. Was I supposed to do something? I didn't think really...I just reacted. I stood up, walked towards the commotion and started pointing and yelling at the group of girls. "Sit down. Sit DOWN." Miraculously, they listened. Before I had my senses the young man pushed another girl. It was a violent push, and she fell hard into the table top. All I could think of was the horror stories I had heard of teachers being sued for touching students too forcefully. What was I going to do?

Luckily, the seats of the cafeteria tables formed a narrow aisle that I could block by standing with my legs spread slightly. "Sit Down," I said, more calmly than before. I told Daisy, another corps member, to go get the security guard, who for someone reason was not at his normal post of duty in the cafeteria. I was between the young man and the girl he had just pushed. "Look at me," I said. He was breathing hard, and had that look of aggression that kids have. You know the one. He looked like he had had his honor questioned, and was not about to have it questioned anymore. His cheeks were puffed. The girls with malicious smiles dawned on me again, and I was thinking to myself, "I don't have any real power to stop this kid. Legally, I can't even touch him."

But there I was. "Look at me," I said again. I made a motion with my hand, drawing his eyes to mine. "You do not want to repeat this grade again." He continued breathing hard, cheeks puffed and red. "You do not want to repeat this grade again," I repeated. I didn't know what else to do, so I stood tall. "Sit down," I repeated to the group of girls who were saying something. A faculty member came up, and said "He pushed that girl. He needs to go straight to the office." I saw the security guard walking up. I pointed to the young man, and said to the security guard, "This gentlemen pushed another student. Please take him to the office." The boy obeyed.

Walking back to my teaching coach, I shot a stare at the group of girls. I don't know what happened, but I remember middle school, and my guess is they were guilty of some sort of unkindness.

In other Mr. Moore news, I did group work today with my class, which was a big step. It is much more difficult when they are out of rows. It went okay. It was funny to see how much some of my classmates hated working with others. Sadly, girls hated working with guys, and the African American students hated working with the white kids.

Mr. Moore

2005-06-23T19:18:00.000-07:00

I am in Houston for five weeks at the Teach for America summer institute. We spent the first week in what is called "curriculum" training. In short, it is teacher 101. Everything from objective setting, to lesson plan design, to classroom management. The days are long. I am up at 5am and do not get home until 5. Evenings are spent reading curriculum and preparing lessons. It is physically and mentally draining.

But this week was the payoff. My own classroom. I teach one 45 minute period a day. I am teaching 7'th grade social studies to a group of 23 students (mostly boys) who are in summer school for a variety of reasons. Some failed their TAKS test (Texas standardized test). Others did not fulfill grade requirements to pass. Others are their for "enrichment." All my students are wonderful.

The first day was a complete disaster. I was not prepared. Mistake #1: not having a seating chart. Mistake #2: not having an efficient system to hand out papers and pens. Mistake #3: not having something for them to do when they had finished their diagnostic. Mistake #4: being too nice. Needless to say, I got walked over.

But I learned, and did something about it. Monday night I was up until two. I made each student a folder with an envelope attached to it (that they could put their pens in). In the folder, I put the handout for the next day, blank paper, a pen, and an individualized note for each student. Writing 23 individualized notes took forever, but I think it was worth it, because it started a dialogue with my students. I used the information from the student interest survey and asked them individual questions like: Who is your favorite Houston Rocket? or Who is the best dancer on TV? Lastly, I made a seating chart, splitting up the more talkative students from each other.

When they walked in on Tuesday, there was no messing around. They sat at the desk with their folder on it and class began. They had a "do now" activity to do right away. We went over the agenda, spent 20 minutes on rules, and began the lesson. Tuesday was great.

"Steven": "Steven" was a student in my class. I learned about his background from a permanent faculty member at my school. He had a history of severe behavior problems. He was suspended in the earlier summer school session for threatening a teacher. He has nothing at home. His parents simply do not care. When asked to write about where he will be in ten years, Steven said he would have raped 5 women and would probably be in jail for selling drugs. On Monday, when asked by a science teacher what he wanted to learn, he said he wanted to learn how to build bombs in order to hurt people.

Steven created problems immediately in my class. He did not do his work, and was constantly distracting his classmates. I practiced what I had been learning in curriculum. Instead of just punishing him, I gave them choice. I would say, "Steven, you already received your warning. You have two options. You may continue to distract "Bill" and receive a lunch detention. Or, you can follow the rules. Okay?" One minute later, Steven was turned in his desk distracting Bill. So, I said, "You chose to distract Bill after I had asked you not to when you knew it would result in a lunch detention." Lunch detention was a disaster. He refused to engage me when I asked him about why he was serving detention. He actually stood up and walked away from the cafeteria table he was serving detention at. I was not about to touch him, so I followed him into the bathroom. I followed him out. The security guard saw this, and asked him what was going on. Steven said I was "acting like a jerk. That's what was going on." After some effort, we got him to sit back down, and he served the rest of his detention in silence. This was Tuesday.

Today was Thursday, and Steven was absent. Today I learned that Steven was suspended, resulting in his retainment in the seventh grade. Today was also the best day of class. I got farther than I ever would have had Steven been in class. Instead of administering a detention, I was able to work one-on-one with a student who was having trouble understanding the difference between primary and secondary sources. It is a tough call. If we are trying to reach every student, what should we do? Do we insist on reaching every student, no matter the consequences? What if 1 student is holding up 22 others? Teach for America wants to move all children forward, but what is the best way to do that? Part of me wants to drop the Stevens, because we'll get so much farther with the rest. Part of me is pissed off that I do not have the opportunity to get Steven under control and on the way to success.

"Porno": On Wednesday, I was finishing a pretty good lesson on the three types of primary sources: oral, visual, and print. With two minutes left, I was wrapping up. I asked the class to recall what were some examples of visual sources. Someone on the right side of the room yelled out "porno." I responded immediately. In my sternest teacher voice, and with my sternest teacher face, I asked, "Who said that?" No response. Thinking back, the look on those kids faces was pretty funny. They had not seen Mr. Moore visibly pissed off. I had their attention more than ever before. "Okay," I said, "I know it came from this part of the room. These two rows will stay after class with Steven until we find out who said it." I had a student leader, "Devon", take the class to lunch. I pulled up a chair, and sat in front of the two rows. "Well, who wants to own up?" Again, the blank faces. I noticed that "Keisha" looked terrified, even though I knew she hadn't said it. I had the students take out a piece of paper and write one of the following: I said the word, I don't know who said the word, or ______ said the word. Then I let them go.

Based on their responses that I read last night, it was obvious that "Greg" was the culprit. Greg wrote on his piece of paper "Maybe satan said it." Other students named him. I wrote him an individualized note that said I thought he was the one who said the word, but that I could not prove it. I expected him to be a man, and own up to what he had done. I had learned earlier in the week that Greg's mother had gone into remission with cancer. I told him in the note, that I knew he was dealing with pain, but that that did not give him a write to disrespect my class. After class today, Greg was walking out. I held him back, asking if he had anything to say. He said no, and "I swear to God it wasn't me." I told him I was dissapointed, and then let him go. I think I'm just going to let it go.

I am tired, but am looking to finishing the week strongly. I love being a teacher so far. I love the challenge. I am also impressed by the rigour of the TFA program. There is almost always at least one observer in my class. The curriculum teacher is phenomenal. My CMA (a teaching coach) pushes me very hard. I am happy and tired. I am glad tomorrow is Friday, but I am thinking about next Monday.

Signing out, Mr. Moore