Baseball ... I'll have a post and a half for y'all Monday! Have been following everything pretty closely the past 10 days or so. There'll be some good stories in there, including the 52-minute "bee delay" in San Diego.
Bridge - mentoring ... I'll be off shortly to mentor someone new ... (somebody or another) Prasad. Wonder if Prasad is similar to Jones or Smith in this country? Game starts at 10:30, and think I've just got time to finish and publish this little post before leaving.
Bridge - teaching ...Met with my newest private students last night for our second session. Had a great lesson! Came home just 'higher than a kite', as is often the case with me after a good interactive class.
They were excited about their upcoming backpacking trip to Colorado. I told them I wanted to hear all about it after our next class ... we'll do two hours of intensive bridge stuff, and then relax for a few minutes afterwards while they entertain me with stories (some of which might even be true!) and allow me to do some vicarious living.
We won't be meeting again until July 29th - a Wednesday instead of Tuesday evening this next time. That's one of the HUGE pluses of private classes ... flexibility of schedule. Another huge plus is the individual attention that can be given. Often some restructuring of the subject matter is made to accommodate each student's needs. It's challenging, but very rewarding!
Rainfall ... We are dry, dry, dry! Some parts of Houston have received some beneficial raindrops, but not this area. So, last night before I left the house, I started the sprinkler in the backyard. I figured the yard could really use a few hours' worth of a good soaking, but I anticipated having to wade through a few puddles upon my return.
No puddles - not even a teeny one! I was astounded!! The ground soaked all of that good wet stuff up like there was no tomorrow. I probably could have left the sprinkler on for a while longer, but didn't want to forget it was on when I hit the pillow. Will do some more tonight and again tomorrow night ... these times in the front yard, which is browning out like crazy. Boy, do we need rain!
Gotta go! The shower beckons, and then I'm outta here!! Will probably do another post later today, but no promises. Beth sent me an e-mail that I'd like to share, plus I have a couple of other things on the back burner. Talk atcha!
Showing posts with label Teaching. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Teaching. Show all posts
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
Saturday, January 31, 2009
Quien sabe?
Will he? Won't he? Will they? Won't they? Who knows?!?
I just got back home after teaching my first beginning bridge lesson in a little more than a year. I had just a ton of fun! But, let's go back to see how all of this started.
It was just this past Wednesday (the 28th) when I received an e-mail from someone inquiring about bridge lessons and who had read on-line the fact that I was an accredited bridge teacher. I responded in what was - not normal for me - a serious and professional manner, stating what I charged per hour, asking if the person wanted to be 'fast-tracked', etc., and not really expecting to hear another word.
[I get lots of these types of inquiries. Most, it's been my experience, are just "suspects" - as opposed to "prospects" - and will waste inordinate amounts of time (theirs and yours!) unless you just 'cut them off at the pass', as it were.]
Well, this young man followed up. In fact, he wanted their - only two of them, he told me - first lesson to be today. (!)
OK. I arrived. Took three books with me, just in case another person showed up. And - sure enough - there was a third person there.
What fun! All young men - nearly 50 years my junior, each of them - of diverse backgrounds, but ALL with no bridge-playing experience whatsoever!! A beginning bridge teacher's idea of heaven, I kid you not.
I was prepared for ANYthing, but what I was met with just titillated my imagination into overload. I mean, I saw possibilities for this threesome!
At the end of the lesson, I gave them their assignments and told them exactly what to expect for the start of our next session ... was all poised to write down the date for our next meeting when I was met with this MOST awkward silence. Really, I didn't know what to make of it!
I can absolutely guarantee you that we had a good first lesson. Maybe even better than my average, which is saying something! (Not really trying to overtoot my own horn here, but I am a great teacher!! Truly, I am.)
So, what happened? (They all said something about schedules, conflicts, etc. and et al, all of which might certainly be true, but at this point I'm left wondering about what else they might have expected for a two-hour session. Surely they didn't expect to learn the intriguingly-complex game of bridge in just two hours??)
I don't know. I'll be sending a followup e-mail to my initial contact, telling him how much I enjoyed the session, etc. and blah. Will keep you posted.
I just got back home after teaching my first beginning bridge lesson in a little more than a year. I had just a ton of fun! But, let's go back to see how all of this started.
It was just this past Wednesday (the 28th) when I received an e-mail from someone inquiring about bridge lessons and who had read on-line the fact that I was an accredited bridge teacher. I responded in what was - not normal for me - a serious and professional manner, stating what I charged per hour, asking if the person wanted to be 'fast-tracked', etc., and not really expecting to hear another word.
[I get lots of these types of inquiries. Most, it's been my experience, are just "suspects" - as opposed to "prospects" - and will waste inordinate amounts of time (theirs and yours!) unless you just 'cut them off at the pass', as it were.]
Well, this young man followed up. In fact, he wanted their - only two of them, he told me - first lesson to be today. (!)
OK. I arrived. Took three books with me, just in case another person showed up. And - sure enough - there was a third person there.
What fun! All young men - nearly 50 years my junior, each of them - of diverse backgrounds, but ALL with no bridge-playing experience whatsoever!! A beginning bridge teacher's idea of heaven, I kid you not.
I was prepared for ANYthing, but what I was met with just titillated my imagination into overload. I mean, I saw possibilities for this threesome!
At the end of the lesson, I gave them their assignments and told them exactly what to expect for the start of our next session ... was all poised to write down the date for our next meeting when I was met with this MOST awkward silence. Really, I didn't know what to make of it!
I can absolutely guarantee you that we had a good first lesson. Maybe even better than my average, which is saying something! (Not really trying to overtoot my own horn here, but I am a great teacher!! Truly, I am.)
So, what happened? (They all said something about schedules, conflicts, etc. and et al, all of which might certainly be true, but at this point I'm left wondering about what else they might have expected for a two-hour session. Surely they didn't expect to learn the intriguingly-complex game of bridge in just two hours??)
I don't know. I'll be sending a followup e-mail to my initial contact, telling him how much I enjoyed the session, etc. and blah. Will keep you posted.
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
My weekend ... #1 ...
I haven't had a couple of days like that for a while, and don't expect to again any time soon. How very, very special.
You all probably know that I've been looking for something I could do to bring more dollars in to Goldenrod's coffers each month. I've considered all sorts of different possibilities. Theoretically, I'm highly qualified to do many things.
I investigated tutoring late last Spring, but in retrospect I realize that I did so only half-heartedly. I have a notebook full of information about institutes here in Houston that are looking for tutors and teachers. I don't remember applying for more than one or two! I got kind of excited last fall about the possibility of teaching in Korea in their winter program. Filled out page after page on the application. Even got my passport. Never heard a word back. Tried to call the phone number listed, but could never get an answer.
Now, before you get mad at them, I should tell you that I never attached a resume. I couldn't see the sense in it. They already had all the info on my application. What pure and utter nonsense, I felt! See a potential problem here? Goldenrod's attitude is going to have to change if she wants to move ahead in this area!!
[But do I want to? That's the key question, isn't it? Honestly, if I had my druthers, I would probably never work another hour as long as I live! But, I don't have my druthers. I have reality, and push is getting ever closer to shove.]
This next month now, my coffers are going to see an infusion of several hundred dollars - all of that coming from old-timey taxicab customers, which is a very good thing, cuz due up are my annual property taxes, an electric bill of close to $400 (only paid $2.79 or some such ridiculous amount last month - they must have just estimated it instead of taking an actual meter reading), and a new (digital, of course!) television set.
[Hey, Goldenrod! Get to the point, will you please? All right, already!!]
So anyhoo, in my seemingly never-ending task of sorting through every single little bit of paper in my house before I throw it out, because who knows what it might be ... could be a birth certificate, a divorce decree, a will, or even a college diploma (and yes, I've unearthed some of those types of what one might consider more important items!) - and no, you don't want to see the inside of my house (but maybe you do, if you're one of those who brakes at every accident scene to see if you can spot some gore ... lots of gore here), I came across (just this past week) a somewhat yellowed "Writers' Network" pamphlet.
I thought, "Oh, my goodness! I wonder if any of these are still in existence?" I got on the net. Lots of "Southwest Literary Arts Council" listings when I Googled that name, but none specifically for Houston. And so I tried to further define in my search what I was actually looking for.
I found it! I indulged myself by reading all about the (what looked like) many such organizations in the Houston area. I e-mailed one that I found of particular interest. Supposed to have been meeting that evening. I questioned the mode of attire, was there an assigned room, etc. I heard back, almost immediately, from a "Diane", saying that the meeting had been 'put on the back burner' (my terms) but she was delighted to hear from me, etc. and blah.
To try and make an already long story just a touch shorter, Diane and I met at a local restaurant Saturday. An absolutely delightful couple of hours were spent with she and I (along with Ann, another local attendee) constantly interrupting each other! Rrvit!!
Diane's opinion is that there's money to be made ($$$) in non-fiction, which is my area, is it not? (Would that it ever be so! I'm talking about the $$$ to be made, not entertaining a possible debate as to whether or not my writing is non-fiction, I hope you understand?)
The past couple of days, give or take a few hours here or there, have been spent filling out entry forms and updating my autobiography. Am still nowhere near finished. It appears as tho I might have to get an agent. Argh! Double argh!!
[Her computer has been 'down' since last Friday, and so I haven't been able to e-mail her with some of my questions. I have several, as you might imagine!]
OK. Now you have Saturday and the subsequent many hours hence. Let's move on to Sunday (next post).
You all probably know that I've been looking for something I could do to bring more dollars in to Goldenrod's coffers each month. I've considered all sorts of different possibilities. Theoretically, I'm highly qualified to do many things.
I investigated tutoring late last Spring, but in retrospect I realize that I did so only half-heartedly. I have a notebook full of information about institutes here in Houston that are looking for tutors and teachers. I don't remember applying for more than one or two! I got kind of excited last fall about the possibility of teaching in Korea in their winter program. Filled out page after page on the application. Even got my passport. Never heard a word back. Tried to call the phone number listed, but could never get an answer.
Now, before you get mad at them, I should tell you that I never attached a resume. I couldn't see the sense in it. They already had all the info on my application. What pure and utter nonsense, I felt! See a potential problem here? Goldenrod's attitude is going to have to change if she wants to move ahead in this area!!
[But do I want to? That's the key question, isn't it? Honestly, if I had my druthers, I would probably never work another hour as long as I live! But, I don't have my druthers. I have reality, and push is getting ever closer to shove.]
This next month now, my coffers are going to see an infusion of several hundred dollars - all of that coming from old-timey taxicab customers, which is a very good thing, cuz due up are my annual property taxes, an electric bill of close to $400 (only paid $2.79 or some such ridiculous amount last month - they must have just estimated it instead of taking an actual meter reading), and a new (digital, of course!) television set.
[Hey, Goldenrod! Get to the point, will you please? All right, already!!]
So anyhoo, in my seemingly never-ending task of sorting through every single little bit of paper in my house before I throw it out, because who knows what it might be ... could be a birth certificate, a divorce decree, a will, or even a college diploma (and yes, I've unearthed some of those types of what one might consider more important items!) - and no, you don't want to see the inside of my house (but maybe you do, if you're one of those who brakes at every accident scene to see if you can spot some gore ... lots of gore here), I came across (just this past week) a somewhat yellowed "Writers' Network" pamphlet.
I thought, "Oh, my goodness! I wonder if any of these are still in existence?" I got on the net. Lots of "Southwest Literary Arts Council" listings when I Googled that name, but none specifically for Houston. And so I tried to further define in my search what I was actually looking for.
I found it! I indulged myself by reading all about the (what looked like) many such organizations in the Houston area. I e-mailed one that I found of particular interest. Supposed to have been meeting that evening. I questioned the mode of attire, was there an assigned room, etc. I heard back, almost immediately, from a "Diane", saying that the meeting had been 'put on the back burner' (my terms) but she was delighted to hear from me, etc. and blah.
To try and make an already long story just a touch shorter, Diane and I met at a local restaurant Saturday. An absolutely delightful couple of hours were spent with she and I (along with Ann, another local attendee) constantly interrupting each other! Rrvit!!
Diane's opinion is that there's money to be made ($$$) in non-fiction, which is my area, is it not? (Would that it ever be so! I'm talking about the $$$ to be made, not entertaining a possible debate as to whether or not my writing is non-fiction, I hope you understand?)
The past couple of days, give or take a few hours here or there, have been spent filling out entry forms and updating my autobiography. Am still nowhere near finished. It appears as tho I might have to get an agent. Argh! Double argh!!
[Her computer has been 'down' since last Friday, and so I haven't been able to e-mail her with some of my questions. I have several, as you might imagine!]
OK. Now you have Saturday and the subsequent many hours hence. Let's move on to Sunday (next post).
Thursday, October 9, 2008
Down memory lane ... #1 ...
Wow, what a trip!
Found my "goodies" -- birth certificate (for the passport) and notarized transcripts from three different colleges (for job applications) -- all in one fell swoop. Also found various resumes that I had composed over the years.
What really stopped me dead in my tracks, however, were all of these personal notes from students, parents, and other teachers that I've kept all this time. It's been fun to read all of the different names and realize that I actually remember a lot of them!
Today, I'd like to share with you a 'book', of sorts, that I made when teaching 1st grade ... always my favorite!
"A playground accident led to a discussion by our class of things that have happened to them," I wrote in the preface. "The following are their stories, as dictated to and transcribed by Miss Green and Miss Brown from Hilliard High School.* First is the story about Tina Boorman."
Things that Happened To Us
Yesterday Tina fell and cut her chin on the boot scrape. The emergency squad came and took her to Riverside Hospital. She got 8 stitches.
Me and Bobby was riding a bike and we wrecked into a sewer. And when we wrecked my handle bars fell off. So I went home and my dad fixed my handle bars. ~ Steve Lombardi
I fell over a rock but I was not hurt. I just got up and kept walking to where I was going. ~ Jeff Brown
I was walking home and fell over a rock. I went in the house and my mom put a wet rag on my leg. When I fell my mother took me to the hospital and I got stitches. ~ Ruth Marker
I was going to get my daddy a beer and fell and everything fell out of the refrigerator. And I cut my toe and had to go to the hospital and get six stitches. ~ Renee Carter
I fell off my bike. And I skinned my knee. And I showed my mom what happened and she put a bandaid on it. ~ Robin Oiler
One day I fell off my bike and got hurt and I went to the house and told my mother and she took me at the doctor's and I got two shots. ~ Sharrie Park
One day me and my brother rode on a trike and I fell and hurt myself and cut my lip open. And I had to go to the hospital and get a shot. ~ Laurie Bickerdt
I was sitting down at my friend's with my feet down and some boy ran over my big toe. So I started crying and I went home and my daddy put some medicine on it. And then he put a bandaid on it. ~ Missy Maynard
My friend threw a board and hit me in the head. I had nine stitches. I got to sit in front of the emergency squad. ~ Jamie Clapper
One day I wrecked on my bike. I fell down and cut my chin. I ran into the house and put a bandaid on it. I went to put my bike away. ~ Brian Hay
I was walking down the steps and I fell. My mom called the emergency squad. I went to the hospital. And I got 8 stitches. ~ Bobbie Gillespie
When I was living someplace else I was sleeping on my brother's top bunk and I rolled over and fell off. I hit the baby bed and had to go get stitches in my chin. ~ John McPherson
Donnie, my brother, was riding me on his bicycle and I fell off. I cut my knee. It hurt a lot. But I didn't cry. ~ Randy Rausch
I had a wreck on my bike. And my hand got all bloody. I went home and my mom put a bandaid on it. ~ Terry Blevins
I was standing by the deep fryer and my mom was cooking onion rings. The pan fell over and burned my leg. I was in the hospital for three weeks. ~ Michele Carroll
Every time I'm clumsy I fall down. When I get silly I fall down. When I fall down on the sidewalk my pants rip all the way. When my sister let me ride her bicycle I fell down. ~ Susan Nininger
I was riding my bike on the big hills and I wrecked and I got hurt real bad. I was riding and I popped a wheely and my baby brother jumped off and my sister fell in a mud puddle. And my dad almost ran over us. ~ Terry Lively
I was living at my old house and my brother and me were swinging. I was petting a dog. The dog bit me on my head. It was bleeding. I had to get stitches. ~ Tammy Ward
I was roller skating and I fell. I sprained my ankle. My sister said, "What happened, Carol?" And I said, "I sprained my ankle." The back of my leg was skinned. ~ Carol Huber
If you were a first grade student at Beacon Elementary in Hilliard, Ohio, between the years of 1966 and 1973, I was your teacher. Anyone out there recognize their name?
More to come -- much more, but another time.
*These two young ladies must have been interested in teaching careers. I hadn't remembered that program.
Found my "goodies" -- birth certificate (for the passport) and notarized transcripts from three different colleges (for job applications) -- all in one fell swoop. Also found various resumes that I had composed over the years.
What really stopped me dead in my tracks, however, were all of these personal notes from students, parents, and other teachers that I've kept all this time. It's been fun to read all of the different names and realize that I actually remember a lot of them!
Today, I'd like to share with you a 'book', of sorts, that I made when teaching 1st grade ... always my favorite!
"A playground accident led to a discussion by our class of things that have happened to them," I wrote in the preface. "The following are their stories, as dictated to and transcribed by Miss Green and Miss Brown from Hilliard High School.* First is the story about Tina Boorman."
Things that Happened To Us
Yesterday Tina fell and cut her chin on the boot scrape. The emergency squad came and took her to Riverside Hospital. She got 8 stitches.
Me and Bobby was riding a bike and we wrecked into a sewer. And when we wrecked my handle bars fell off. So I went home and my dad fixed my handle bars. ~ Steve Lombardi
I fell over a rock but I was not hurt. I just got up and kept walking to where I was going. ~ Jeff Brown
I was walking home and fell over a rock. I went in the house and my mom put a wet rag on my leg. When I fell my mother took me to the hospital and I got stitches. ~ Ruth Marker
I was going to get my daddy a beer and fell and everything fell out of the refrigerator. And I cut my toe and had to go to the hospital and get six stitches. ~ Renee Carter
I fell off my bike. And I skinned my knee. And I showed my mom what happened and she put a bandaid on it. ~ Robin Oiler
One day I fell off my bike and got hurt and I went to the house and told my mother and she took me at the doctor's and I got two shots. ~ Sharrie Park
One day me and my brother rode on a trike and I fell and hurt myself and cut my lip open. And I had to go to the hospital and get a shot. ~ Laurie Bickerdt
I was sitting down at my friend's with my feet down and some boy ran over my big toe. So I started crying and I went home and my daddy put some medicine on it. And then he put a bandaid on it. ~ Missy Maynard
My friend threw a board and hit me in the head. I had nine stitches. I got to sit in front of the emergency squad. ~ Jamie Clapper
One day I wrecked on my bike. I fell down and cut my chin. I ran into the house and put a bandaid on it. I went to put my bike away. ~ Brian Hay
I was walking down the steps and I fell. My mom called the emergency squad. I went to the hospital. And I got 8 stitches. ~ Bobbie Gillespie
When I was living someplace else I was sleeping on my brother's top bunk and I rolled over and fell off. I hit the baby bed and had to go get stitches in my chin. ~ John McPherson
Donnie, my brother, was riding me on his bicycle and I fell off. I cut my knee. It hurt a lot. But I didn't cry. ~ Randy Rausch
I had a wreck on my bike. And my hand got all bloody. I went home and my mom put a bandaid on it. ~ Terry Blevins
I was standing by the deep fryer and my mom was cooking onion rings. The pan fell over and burned my leg. I was in the hospital for three weeks. ~ Michele Carroll
Every time I'm clumsy I fall down. When I get silly I fall down. When I fall down on the sidewalk my pants rip all the way. When my sister let me ride her bicycle I fell down. ~ Susan Nininger
I was riding my bike on the big hills and I wrecked and I got hurt real bad. I was riding and I popped a wheely and my baby brother jumped off and my sister fell in a mud puddle. And my dad almost ran over us. ~ Terry Lively
I was living at my old house and my brother and me were swinging. I was petting a dog. The dog bit me on my head. It was bleeding. I had to get stitches. ~ Tammy Ward
I was roller skating and I fell. I sprained my ankle. My sister said, "What happened, Carol?" And I said, "I sprained my ankle." The back of my leg was skinned. ~ Carol Huber
If you were a first grade student at Beacon Elementary in Hilliard, Ohio, between the years of 1966 and 1973, I was your teacher. Anyone out there recognize their name?
More to come -- much more, but another time.
*These two young ladies must have been interested in teaching careers. I hadn't remembered that program.
Tuesday, October 7, 2008
Scattered thoughts
I didn't post yesterday. "Why didn't I?" you ask. Well, it was because I was trying to fine tune my applications for various teaching jobs on-line.
Normally, you only get one shot at these. If your first shot goes somewhat astray, that's it, folks! End of story.
One in particular caught my attention, that of an English teacher to be a part of a 4-week winter program in Korea, beginning in January 2009.
They advertise all the time for year long instructors. I cannot do that. I obtained a reverse mortgage on my home late last year, and must be in residence for six months out of every year.
And so, the 4-week dealiebop kind of got me excited, and I've spent a lot of time on that.
I sent in my interest (via e-mail) last Friday, but as of this moment (10:15am Tuesday, October 7th) have not heard back, altho Wiki says that 'you will be contacted ASAP'.
I am fully qualified for this position ... in fact, probably more than qualified!
In an attempt to hasten my application along yesterday, I contacted the Korean embassy here in Houston. Reached a very nice young lady who told me that they only handle visas and passports for Korean nationals. Did I have an authorization number? Ye Gods!
Long story short, I have done pretty much all I can do in re this application. Just in case they do call me, however, within the next week or so, I need to get my 'you know what' down to the passport office.
Meanwhile, I have two others that need to be attended to ... 1) Adjunct teacher -- working primarily from home -- interaction via the internet and telephone. 2) Bradford School of Business -- English composition -- on site instruction.
ANYhoo, that's pretty much how my day went yesterday. Scattered.
Meanwhile, I've been paying 'some' attention to the news. A couple or three things worth mentioning ... ...
Special car keys ... to be issued (not available just yet) to parents who are worried that their teenaged drivers will speed excessively or play the radio too loudly.
WalMart ... the first major retailer to bring out Christmas merchandise.
Dayton, Ohio ... the site of the second Presidential debate this evening, and no, I will not be watching or listening ... I'll be playing bridge with Julian, and I can almost guarantee you that we will be having a lot more fun! However, did you know that Dayton, in spite of GM recently announcing its plant closing there, is where some of our modern day inventions occurred? I didn't -- well, except for Wilbur and Orville Wright's, of course! Among those inventions were freon, pop tops, the cash register, and ignition switches. Interesting!
1st Monday in October ... yesterday ... Supreme Court reconvened.
Ike's affects on school year terms ... I have written on this subject previously. Let me just tell you what I know 'for sure' ... ... Katy ISD (where darling granddaughter attends) has received a 'dispensation' from the State (an 'act of God', as it were) ... however, my daughter has noticed a significant 'tightening up' and even an increase in the amount of homework that she (darling granddaughter) is bringing home ... ... LaPorte ISD (much more adversely affected by Ike) announced yesterday that they would not be extending the school year, but rather would be extending the number of hours students would be attending each day to try and make up the lost time. This announcement has been met by some loud objections from parents, who have now had to adjust their work schedules.
National Night Out ... tonight ... 25th anniversary of such an event. It's a wonderful concept. Neighbor should know neighbor. I'm almost ashamed to admit that I have never participated!
Normally, you only get one shot at these. If your first shot goes somewhat astray, that's it, folks! End of story.
One in particular caught my attention, that of an English teacher to be a part of a 4-week winter program in Korea, beginning in January 2009.
They advertise all the time for year long instructors. I cannot do that. I obtained a reverse mortgage on my home late last year, and must be in residence for six months out of every year.
And so, the 4-week dealiebop kind of got me excited, and I've spent a lot of time on that.
I sent in my interest (via e-mail) last Friday, but as of this moment (10:15am Tuesday, October 7th) have not heard back, altho Wiki says that 'you will be contacted ASAP'.
I am fully qualified for this position ... in fact, probably more than qualified!
In an attempt to hasten my application along yesterday, I contacted the Korean embassy here in Houston. Reached a very nice young lady who told me that they only handle visas and passports for Korean nationals. Did I have an authorization number? Ye Gods!
Long story short, I have done pretty much all I can do in re this application. Just in case they do call me, however, within the next week or so, I need to get my 'you know what' down to the passport office.
Meanwhile, I have two others that need to be attended to ... 1) Adjunct teacher -- working primarily from home -- interaction via the internet and telephone. 2) Bradford School of Business -- English composition -- on site instruction.
ANYhoo, that's pretty much how my day went yesterday. Scattered.
Meanwhile, I've been paying 'some' attention to the news. A couple or three things worth mentioning ... ...
Special car keys ... to be issued (not available just yet) to parents who are worried that their teenaged drivers will speed excessively or play the radio too loudly.
WalMart ... the first major retailer to bring out Christmas merchandise.
Dayton, Ohio ... the site of the second Presidential debate this evening, and no, I will not be watching or listening ... I'll be playing bridge with Julian, and I can almost guarantee you that we will be having a lot more fun! However, did you know that Dayton, in spite of GM recently announcing its plant closing there, is where some of our modern day inventions occurred? I didn't -- well, except for Wilbur and Orville Wright's, of course! Among those inventions were freon, pop tops, the cash register, and ignition switches. Interesting!
1st Monday in October ... yesterday ... Supreme Court reconvened.
Ike's affects on school year terms ... I have written on this subject previously. Let me just tell you what I know 'for sure' ... ... Katy ISD (where darling granddaughter attends) has received a 'dispensation' from the State (an 'act of God', as it were) ... however, my daughter has noticed a significant 'tightening up' and even an increase in the amount of homework that she (darling granddaughter) is bringing home ... ... LaPorte ISD (much more adversely affected by Ike) announced yesterday that they would not be extending the school year, but rather would be extending the number of hours students would be attending each day to try and make up the lost time. This announcement has been met by some loud objections from parents, who have now had to adjust their work schedules.
National Night Out ... tonight ... 25th anniversary of such an event. It's a wonderful concept. Neighbor should know neighbor. I'm almost ashamed to admit that I have never participated!
Monday, May 5, 2008
Teaching to a test ...
... is, in my opinion, absolutely the WORST kind of 'teaching'. You're not teaching, you're taking the lazy man's way out!
My latest rant is based on a talk radio show that was airing as I was returning home from taking two of my personal customers to Intercontinental Airport this morning.
The host was referring to the TAKS, the ACT, the BS (I made up the last one, OK?), and -- at least the inferences I was getting -- he seemed to think, "How else can we measure students' progress or teacher competency/efficiency?"
Don't get me wrong here. There are instances when one must 'teach to a test' ... spelling competitions/bees, for example ... important dates in history, etc. Those things must be memorized.
There was a wonderful movie made some years ago -- based on a true story, I believe -- starring James Edward (?) Olmos, who portrayed a math teacher in (I think!) the Los Angeles area.
He did not try and teach to a test. Instead, he tried to instill in his students the major underlying concepts involved. The students 'got it'.
Test time came around. They scored so high that the results were thrown out, the students were accused of cheating, and another test was administered -- this one closely monitored, of course. As I recall, they scored even higher the second time! They understood and could extrapolate!!
He not only had taught them the underlying concepts, he had showed them how to think and apply same. Now, THAT is teaching!
I was reminded, on my drive back, of a M*A*S*H episode -- I love that series! -- , the one where Klinger, in his efforts to bone up on an upcoming test for a possible promotion, somehow gets hold of the answers and then proceeds to write them down on various parts of his body. Did you ever see that one?
Well, anyway, 'contortionist extraordinaire' becomes a little discombobulated in trying to locate the various answers. Not only that, but BJ has mixed up the order of the questions. Oh, no!!!
Mr. McGonigle, the principal of the school where I taught for several years, once told me, "Helen, I don't care if you have the children stand on their heads all day long! I've been observing you for some time now, have received many reports from parents, have listened to the second grade teachers' comments on the preparation their students had received (I was teaching first grade at the time), and have seen, first-hand, how much your students like to come to school and want to learn."
[Now, I must tell you the truth here. Mr. McGonigle NEVER came into my classroom to 'observe' -- at least, not that I was aware. At the same time, his office was right next door to my classroom.]
I LOVE teaching!! No two ifs/ands/buts/sixes about it ... there is, again in my own opinion now, nothing to equal it! See a couple of my earlier posts to get a little more background ... here ... and here.
There you have it, my 'rant' for the day. I'll probably have many more down the road, as teaching is my true love.
[I feel a great need to edit/add to this post, and it is this. I am not perfect, was not ever perfect, and for certain will not ever be perfect!! These are my 'imperfect' personal views, only, as of 5/5/08.]
My latest rant is based on a talk radio show that was airing as I was returning home from taking two of my personal customers to Intercontinental Airport this morning.
The host was referring to the TAKS, the ACT, the BS (I made up the last one, OK?), and -- at least the inferences I was getting -- he seemed to think, "How else can we measure students' progress or teacher competency/efficiency?"
Don't get me wrong here. There are instances when one must 'teach to a test' ... spelling competitions/bees, for example ... important dates in history, etc. Those things must be memorized.
There was a wonderful movie made some years ago -- based on a true story, I believe -- starring James Edward (?) Olmos, who portrayed a math teacher in (I think!) the Los Angeles area.
He did not try and teach to a test. Instead, he tried to instill in his students the major underlying concepts involved. The students 'got it'.
Test time came around. They scored so high that the results were thrown out, the students were accused of cheating, and another test was administered -- this one closely monitored, of course. As I recall, they scored even higher the second time! They understood and could extrapolate!!
He not only had taught them the underlying concepts, he had showed them how to think and apply same. Now, THAT is teaching!
I was reminded, on my drive back, of a M*A*S*H episode -- I love that series! -- , the one where Klinger, in his efforts to bone up on an upcoming test for a possible promotion, somehow gets hold of the answers and then proceeds to write them down on various parts of his body. Did you ever see that one?
Well, anyway, 'contortionist extraordinaire' becomes a little discombobulated in trying to locate the various answers. Not only that, but BJ has mixed up the order of the questions. Oh, no!!!
Mr. McGonigle, the principal of the school where I taught for several years, once told me, "Helen, I don't care if you have the children stand on their heads all day long! I've been observing you for some time now, have received many reports from parents, have listened to the second grade teachers' comments on the preparation their students had received (I was teaching first grade at the time), and have seen, first-hand, how much your students like to come to school and want to learn."
[Now, I must tell you the truth here. Mr. McGonigle NEVER came into my classroom to 'observe' -- at least, not that I was aware. At the same time, his office was right next door to my classroom.]
I LOVE teaching!! No two ifs/ands/buts/sixes about it ... there is, again in my own opinion now, nothing to equal it! See a couple of my earlier posts to get a little more background ... here ... and here.
There you have it, my 'rant' for the day. I'll probably have many more down the road, as teaching is my true love.
[I feel a great need to edit/add to this post, and it is this. I am not perfect, was not ever perfect, and for certain will not ever be perfect!! These are my 'imperfect' personal views, only, as of 5/5/08.]
Thursday, April 3, 2008
Montmorenci, Indiana
I'll probably do several posts on my years in this farming community, located just a few miles outside of West Lafayette, where my husband and I were both attending Purdue University and doing graduate work towards our Master's degrees -- he in civil engineering (soil mechanics), and I in elementary education.
One of the main centers of this community was the school. Another was the grange, and the third was the church. I am going to speak in this post of the school.
I was teaching 1st grade, my all-time favorite. (And, yes, I was teaching there when Kennedy was assassinated, but that's another story.)
I think it was only my first year teaching in that school -- the first of many truly wonderful years!
We had just moved out to the 'country', and I wasn't at all familiar with the people there. I knew no names, no family histories, nothing!
A vast majority of the students were bused in from the surrounding areas.
There was one classroom per grade level. It was (as I recall) a stone edifice, square, two stories, plus a basement with boiler room and a 'keeper' who knew everyone and everything about the community and wasn't loath to relate any and all he knew (a real gossip, in the truest -- and perhaps, meanest -- sense of the term).
My classroom was right next to the principal's office on the first floor. In the small anteroom that connected my classroom to that of the second grade was a long row of shelves and hooks.
The shelves were for lunch boxes. The hooks, of which there were two each spot, were for outer garments and tennis shoes.
Indiana was, at that time, a basketball state. (Perhaps still is??) EVERY student was required to have tennis shoes in order to participate in gym class ... the gym floor was pristine. No one (including teachers) was allowed on that floor improperly attired, foot-wise.
O.K. There's your background. On to my story for today.
John Sheese arrived in my classroom, accompanied by his mother. He was crying, and was obviously scared. He was very tall! (I found out later that he was eight years old.)
I welcomed both him and his mother as warmly as I could.
It didn't take me long to discover that he was very bright! I didn't initially understand how or why it might have taken the mother so long to enroll him in the first grade.
(Eventually, I heard from the boiler room keeper, as well as many others, that John's mother had previously made several attempts to get him to school, ALL of which had ultimately resulted in his mother's simply taking him home again.)
O.K. I had John in my class. I realized, almost immediately, that he was going to be at the very top of my class, academically. I was delighted!
Problems first began in the anteroom. (Who would have thunk it?)
I didn't even realize there was a problem until the gym teacher brought it to my attention that John wore 'slip on' tennis shoes, only ... no laces. At first I just thought to myself, but then said aloud to him, "What of it? What's the problem??"
"Well", said he, "the problem is that of liability."
All right.
I had called Mrs. Sheese previously on this matter, because John had been leaving his 'slip on' tennies on the shelf designated for lunch boxes, only. I knew that was a problem, and had to notify her of it. She had 'fixed' everything by sewing loops at the heels of the tennies so they could be properly placed on a hook.
So, what could possibly have been the problem?
Well, the gym teacher had unequivocably stated to me that ALL student's tennis shoes had to be "tied". Well, it's impossible to tie one's shoes that have no laces, right? Right.
I tried to explain the problem to Mrs. Sheese.
We had a kind of stare down/silence situation until it FInally occured to me that John just didn't know how to tie his shoes. That was it, pure and simple!!
(Eight years old, bright, but doesn't know how to tie his shoes?? Impossible!!!) Yet there it was, the truth does outeth.
Meanwhile, back at my Montmorenci first grade teaching ranch, I had only two "breaks" (maximum) during any one teaching day.
Consisting of 15-20 minutes each, they were 1) art, and 2)physical education.
The art teacher was of the "old school" ... color within the lines, using only certain colored crayons -- you know, the leaves had to be green, the trunks of the trees brown, etc. (Quite dissimilar to Gwen Giskin, an art teacher I had met while teaching at Battleground. Haven't written about her yet. May or may not later, depending on my mood. Not today!)
Well, this one day the art teacher came into my classroom with sheets of paper showing unlaced shoes/boots. The assignment was twofold: 1) to "color within the lines" and 2) to lace the shoes/boots (she had brought hole-punchers) with laces that were to be distributed amongst the students.
Just as I was about to 'escape' to the boiler room for a short break, she asked me if I could stay and help. (Ye Gods!!)
At that very moment, I kid you not, Mrs. Sheese walked in to observe.
I said, "No, I can't, but I know that Mrs. Sheese would be glad to assist you!"
I RAN, and -- I guess -- haven't stopped laughing to this day.
That is the one and only time in my life that I have been presented with such a wonderful opportunity to "getcha" and have the presence of mind to take advantage of it.
One of the main centers of this community was the school. Another was the grange, and the third was the church. I am going to speak in this post of the school.
I was teaching 1st grade, my all-time favorite. (And, yes, I was teaching there when Kennedy was assassinated, but that's another story.)
I think it was only my first year teaching in that school -- the first of many truly wonderful years!
We had just moved out to the 'country', and I wasn't at all familiar with the people there. I knew no names, no family histories, nothing!
A vast majority of the students were bused in from the surrounding areas.
There was one classroom per grade level. It was (as I recall) a stone edifice, square, two stories, plus a basement with boiler room and a 'keeper' who knew everyone and everything about the community and wasn't loath to relate any and all he knew (a real gossip, in the truest -- and perhaps, meanest -- sense of the term).
My classroom was right next to the principal's office on the first floor. In the small anteroom that connected my classroom to that of the second grade was a long row of shelves and hooks.
The shelves were for lunch boxes. The hooks, of which there were two each spot, were for outer garments and tennis shoes.
Indiana was, at that time, a basketball state. (Perhaps still is??) EVERY student was required to have tennis shoes in order to participate in gym class ... the gym floor was pristine. No one (including teachers) was allowed on that floor improperly attired, foot-wise.
O.K. There's your background. On to my story for today.
John Sheese arrived in my classroom, accompanied by his mother. He was crying, and was obviously scared. He was very tall! (I found out later that he was eight years old.)
I welcomed both him and his mother as warmly as I could.
It didn't take me long to discover that he was very bright! I didn't initially understand how or why it might have taken the mother so long to enroll him in the first grade.
(Eventually, I heard from the boiler room keeper, as well as many others, that John's mother had previously made several attempts to get him to school, ALL of which had ultimately resulted in his mother's simply taking him home again.)
O.K. I had John in my class. I realized, almost immediately, that he was going to be at the very top of my class, academically. I was delighted!
Problems first began in the anteroom. (Who would have thunk it?)
I didn't even realize there was a problem until the gym teacher brought it to my attention that John wore 'slip on' tennis shoes, only ... no laces. At first I just thought to myself, but then said aloud to him, "What of it? What's the problem??"
"Well", said he, "the problem is that of liability."
All right.
I had called Mrs. Sheese previously on this matter, because John had been leaving his 'slip on' tennies on the shelf designated for lunch boxes, only. I knew that was a problem, and had to notify her of it. She had 'fixed' everything by sewing loops at the heels of the tennies so they could be properly placed on a hook.
So, what could possibly have been the problem?
Well, the gym teacher had unequivocably stated to me that ALL student's tennis shoes had to be "tied". Well, it's impossible to tie one's shoes that have no laces, right? Right.
I tried to explain the problem to Mrs. Sheese.
We had a kind of stare down/silence situation until it FInally occured to me that John just didn't know how to tie his shoes. That was it, pure and simple!!
(Eight years old, bright, but doesn't know how to tie his shoes?? Impossible!!!) Yet there it was, the truth does outeth.
Meanwhile, back at my Montmorenci first grade teaching ranch, I had only two "breaks" (maximum) during any one teaching day.
Consisting of 15-20 minutes each, they were 1) art, and 2)physical education.
The art teacher was of the "old school" ... color within the lines, using only certain colored crayons -- you know, the leaves had to be green, the trunks of the trees brown, etc. (Quite dissimilar to Gwen Giskin, an art teacher I had met while teaching at Battleground. Haven't written about her yet. May or may not later, depending on my mood. Not today!)
Well, this one day the art teacher came into my classroom with sheets of paper showing unlaced shoes/boots. The assignment was twofold: 1) to "color within the lines" and 2) to lace the shoes/boots (she had brought hole-punchers) with laces that were to be distributed amongst the students.
Just as I was about to 'escape' to the boiler room for a short break, she asked me if I could stay and help. (Ye Gods!!)
At that very moment, I kid you not, Mrs. Sheese walked in to observe.
I said, "No, I can't, but I know that Mrs. Sheese would be glad to assist you!"
I RAN, and -- I guess -- haven't stopped laughing to this day.
That is the one and only time in my life that I have been presented with such a wonderful opportunity to "getcha" and have the presence of mind to take advantage of it.
Saturday, March 15, 2008
Pyramid schemes ... (part one) ...
Over 25 years ago, following my second divorce, I was looking for something to do to make money, a professional venture that I could both love and be challenged by ... terrible sentence structure here, but I'm going to let it go for now (might come back at a later date to revise it, but for now it stands).
First and foremost, professionally-speaking, I am a teacher. I love to teach!
I can think of few things to equal the look of pure delight in a very young child's eyes when he/she understands/"sees" the concept/s presented.
Each child is an absolute miracle ... a wondrous gift from God.
The miracle continues as the child begins and then continues to absorb his/her surroundings.
The child learns by doing, by imitating that which he/she sees, and by exploring for himself (I'm going to be omitting the him/her he/she references in this post -- just ridiculous, anyway!) and learning as he goes (sometimes by painful personal experience -- other times by parental approval, smiles, and hugs).
How the devil does a child learn to speak, anyway? By imitating, of course, what he hears. The feedback the child gets from his first utterances reinforce his efforts.
Seriously, however, I ask you, "How can one possibly teach 'the' 'a' 'an' ... those little dinky words that mean absolutely nothing?
If I knew the answer to that question, I would tell you. I do not know the answer.
O.K. So the child has learned to speak. NOW, as the child continues to explore the world around him, he wonders why there are all of these books/newspapers/magazines around? All these materials are made of paper (feels like!), and the big people seem to spend a lot time with them, just touching and looking at them with their eyes.
Are they toys?? NO, I quickly discovered, as I grabbed one and ripped it ... I was just trying to see if I could make it move and play with it! My folks quickly grabbed whatever it was that I was trying to 'move', and said, "No!"
Another NO when I grabbed one of my prettiest crayons and tried to add some color, and yet another when I tried to run and throw it outside to see what might happen.
I spent many years teaching first grade, and far and away it was my favorite. A sixth grade teacher once asked me, "How can you stand to be around or even try and teach such a young age?" She said, "I know you love it. It's obvious. But what can you possibly get out of it?"
Boy, I didn't have to think twice about my answer. It was, "The tremendous sense of satisfaction I get at the end of the year. I've taught them how to read." "Oh, yes, now I understand," said she --and, pointing to a bunch of Greek words on the chalkboard, continued, "I get that same feeling of satisfaction when my students have memorized these words."
She hadn't understood a word of what I'd said, of course. We had a few more seconds of a less than memorable conversation, then went along about our separate business. I didn't try to explain further ... she still would not have understood. It was obvious to me that she quite liked where she was. Why have a debate?
Quite a few years later, here in Houston, actually, I had the opportunity to teach sixth grade in a private school situation. Thoroughly enjoyable. I could see why she had liked that age so much.
So why didn't I go back into teaching full-time? The answer is in two parts.
1. I was leery of teaching in Houston's public schools. (Even 25+ years ago? Yes.) Besides the obvious answer of classes being too large, I was hearing way too many first-hand stories from teachers currently in the public school system about testing, testing, and more testing ... almost forcing them to 'teach to a test', as it were. I am vehemently opposed to such a concept.
Required detailed lesson plans were a stumbling block for me, as well. Certainly, throughout my somewhat extensive teaching career, I had known that I would have to have a plan -- but 'detailed', including the exact questions you might be asking for weeks/months ahead of time?? NO!!
"All right, then," you could rightly ask, "why didn't you go back to that private school that you liked so much?" That's a fair question.
2. I couldn't support myself on a private school teacher's salary. My first teaching experience in a private school was while I was married, and my salary was not our family's only income. It's as simple as that.
I had trouble believing it!! It just sounded impossible to me. I inquired of many private schools. ALL were interested in me, but I couldn't support myself on the salaries they were offering. One even went so far as to suggest that I could take on a second job to support myself. (!!) Well, that's not the way I teach, nor should that be what they were looking for -- or, for that matter, what the parents of their students had every right to expect -- in dedicated teachers.
An ad in the newspaper struck me as kind of appealing, and I answered it.
First and foremost, professionally-speaking, I am a teacher. I love to teach!
I can think of few things to equal the look of pure delight in a very young child's eyes when he/she understands/"sees" the concept/s presented.
Each child is an absolute miracle ... a wondrous gift from God.
The miracle continues as the child begins and then continues to absorb his/her surroundings.
The child learns by doing, by imitating that which he/she sees, and by exploring for himself (I'm going to be omitting the him/her he/she references in this post -- just ridiculous, anyway!) and learning as he goes (sometimes by painful personal experience -- other times by parental approval, smiles, and hugs).
How the devil does a child learn to speak, anyway? By imitating, of course, what he hears. The feedback the child gets from his first utterances reinforce his efforts.
Seriously, however, I ask you, "How can one possibly teach 'the' 'a' 'an' ... those little dinky words that mean absolutely nothing?
If I knew the answer to that question, I would tell you. I do not know the answer.
O.K. So the child has learned to speak. NOW, as the child continues to explore the world around him, he wonders why there are all of these books/newspapers/magazines around? All these materials are made of paper (feels like!), and the big people seem to spend a lot time with them, just touching and looking at them with their eyes.
Are they toys?? NO, I quickly discovered, as I grabbed one and ripped it ... I was just trying to see if I could make it move and play with it! My folks quickly grabbed whatever it was that I was trying to 'move', and said, "No!"
Another NO when I grabbed one of my prettiest crayons and tried to add some color, and yet another when I tried to run and throw it outside to see what might happen.
I spent many years teaching first grade, and far and away it was my favorite. A sixth grade teacher once asked me, "How can you stand to be around or even try and teach such a young age?" She said, "I know you love it. It's obvious. But what can you possibly get out of it?"
Boy, I didn't have to think twice about my answer. It was, "The tremendous sense of satisfaction I get at the end of the year. I've taught them how to read." "Oh, yes, now I understand," said she --and, pointing to a bunch of Greek words on the chalkboard, continued, "I get that same feeling of satisfaction when my students have memorized these words."
She hadn't understood a word of what I'd said, of course. We had a few more seconds of a less than memorable conversation, then went along about our separate business. I didn't try to explain further ... she still would not have understood. It was obvious to me that she quite liked where she was. Why have a debate?
Quite a few years later, here in Houston, actually, I had the opportunity to teach sixth grade in a private school situation. Thoroughly enjoyable. I could see why she had liked that age so much.
So why didn't I go back into teaching full-time? The answer is in two parts.
1. I was leery of teaching in Houston's public schools. (Even 25+ years ago? Yes.) Besides the obvious answer of classes being too large, I was hearing way too many first-hand stories from teachers currently in the public school system about testing, testing, and more testing ... almost forcing them to 'teach to a test', as it were. I am vehemently opposed to such a concept.
Required detailed lesson plans were a stumbling block for me, as well. Certainly, throughout my somewhat extensive teaching career, I had known that I would have to have a plan -- but 'detailed', including the exact questions you might be asking for weeks/months ahead of time?? NO!!
"All right, then," you could rightly ask, "why didn't you go back to that private school that you liked so much?" That's a fair question.
2. I couldn't support myself on a private school teacher's salary. My first teaching experience in a private school was while I was married, and my salary was not our family's only income. It's as simple as that.
I had trouble believing it!! It just sounded impossible to me. I inquired of many private schools. ALL were interested in me, but I couldn't support myself on the salaries they were offering. One even went so far as to suggest that I could take on a second job to support myself. (!!) Well, that's not the way I teach, nor should that be what they were looking for -- or, for that matter, what the parents of their students had every right to expect -- in dedicated teachers.
An ad in the newspaper struck me as kind of appealing, and I answered it.
Sunday, January 27, 2008
My first year teaching ...
... was in Tapiola, a very small farming community in the Keweenaw Peninsula area of Upper Michigan. The year was 1959.
The contract was for $4,200/yr., which seemed like a whole lot of money. I was both excited and terrified, all at once! You see, the contract stipulated that I would be teaching first grade, and I had absolutely zero/zip/nada experience with that age level!!
In the State of Michigan at that time, one received "certification" according to their student teaching experience. And, as a recipient of a Bachelor of Music Education degree, ALL of my student teaching hours were accomplished in the area of music. An instrumental major, my "dream" had been to conduct bands (I even had charts of marching formations on the field for half-time performances!).
One of my professors had advised me that, because of the paucity of female band directors in the U.S. at that time -- there was, actually, only one! -- I should apply for a dual certification, that of either "Elementary" or "Secondary". I followed his advice and applied, receiving certification for elementary (K through 8) because I had one more hour of student teaching at that level -- all in the field of music, you understand.
SO, going back to my first teaching contract. I was vaguely aware that teaching first grade involved teaching these very small children how to read -- and, the more I thought about it, the more scared I got. Good heavens, I have to teach them how to read!! I had no idea how to go about such a thing!
The good Lord must have been looking out for me, because He provided me a way to "crash intern" with a first grade teacher, one Johanna Genry, who had been teaching first grade "forever", it almost seemed, in my home town of Munising. AND, as "luck" would have it, Munising's school year started a full week before I was due to debut in Tapiola!
Heavens to Betsy! I "sat in" on every minute of that crucial first week, watched her every move and took copious notes. She kept trying to assure me that I would be "fine". (?!?) At the end of that week, she presented me with boxes of materials that she had accumulated over the years, all of which were really not needed any more, she said.
Looking back at it now, I KNOW I would not have been able to succeed that first year if it had not been for Johanna Genry!
The little community of Tapiola was composed, primarily, of farmers of Finnish ancestry. (In fact, not that many years before I taught there, the Kindergarten teacher had to teach the children English!) The school and a combination gas station/all purpose grocery store comprised the business district.
I can still see the school in my mind's eye. It was a two-story stone structure (3-story, if you count the basement, boiler room & lunchroom). There was one classroom for each grade, K-12. The first-grade classroom (mine) was on the 1st floor, right next to the principal's office. The principal -- "Mr. Allen", I believe -- had this absolutely hideous disease where his bones were growing together, and was quite unable to ascend the stairs to the second floor to "observe". In addition, he had this somewhat quaint practice of "observing" just outside of one's classroom door. As a consequence, all of us who were teaching on the first floor daily assigned a "spy" to alert us when Mr. Allen was just outside our door in the hall observing.
That first year was really memorable. All of them were, actually, but the first one especially so! I applied so many of Johanna's techniques! One that I used -- over & over again -- was gathering the children around me on the floor (I would be sitting on one of the little one's chairs) while I read or told them a story. The children were often so enrapt that my spy failed to report!
One day, I was called to the principal's office. I thought, "Oh, my gosh, I'm in trouble now. He will soon tell me what I have done wrong, I hope!" I was really nervous. He said, "When I was outside your door 'observing' earlier today, I noticed that you had all your children sitting on the floor around you." My immediate thought was, "My gosh, I had them sitting on a cold floor!" Then he said, "That reminded me of a time many years ago when I was 'observing' another first grade teacher. The teacher was telling the children the story of the 'Three Little Pigs'. The story was going along according to norm when the teacher changed the ending to ... 'and he ate the little pigs all up'. (!!) There was dead silence in the classroom. Then, -- finally --one young child exclaimed, 'The son of a b _ _ _ _!'" (It wasn't until many years later that I tried this variant ending on one of my first grade classes, and you know what the response was? ... It was, "Oh, Mrs. _______, that's not how it goes!!" ... Love that one!)
I have so many good memories. I guess I'll leave you with one final one ... ... that of a husband & wife (father & mother) of one of my students -- "Danny", I guess I'll never forget his name -- who appeared at the final "Open House" of that first year (and, I was told later, they had never appeared in school before at a PTO/A meeting or "Open House"!).
"Danny" was eight years old when he started the first grade. He was the youngest of many children (I forget how many), and the "baby" of the family. His parents had held him back because they felt that some extra years might be necessary in his growth process to enable him to "learn". Well, Danny struggled, and I struggled right along with him. He tried MIGHTILY, and I passed him along to the second grade.
His parents were there to thank me for trying to teach their child how to read. They said that no other teacher had worked so hard with any of their children, and they wanted to let me know how much they appreciated my efforts on their child's behalf.
This is now MANY years later, but I still feel a very warm glow thinking of the hugs we exchanged that evening.
The contract was for $4,200/yr., which seemed like a whole lot of money. I was both excited and terrified, all at once! You see, the contract stipulated that I would be teaching first grade, and I had absolutely zero/zip/nada experience with that age level!!
In the State of Michigan at that time, one received "certification" according to their student teaching experience. And, as a recipient of a Bachelor of Music Education degree, ALL of my student teaching hours were accomplished in the area of music. An instrumental major, my "dream" had been to conduct bands (I even had charts of marching formations on the field for half-time performances!).
One of my professors had advised me that, because of the paucity of female band directors in the U.S. at that time -- there was, actually, only one! -- I should apply for a dual certification, that of either "Elementary" or "Secondary". I followed his advice and applied, receiving certification for elementary (K through 8) because I had one more hour of student teaching at that level -- all in the field of music, you understand.
SO, going back to my first teaching contract. I was vaguely aware that teaching first grade involved teaching these very small children how to read -- and, the more I thought about it, the more scared I got. Good heavens, I have to teach them how to read!! I had no idea how to go about such a thing!
The good Lord must have been looking out for me, because He provided me a way to "crash intern" with a first grade teacher, one Johanna Genry, who had been teaching first grade "forever", it almost seemed, in my home town of Munising. AND, as "luck" would have it, Munising's school year started a full week before I was due to debut in Tapiola!
Heavens to Betsy! I "sat in" on every minute of that crucial first week, watched her every move and took copious notes. She kept trying to assure me that I would be "fine". (?!?) At the end of that week, she presented me with boxes of materials that she had accumulated over the years, all of which were really not needed any more, she said.
Looking back at it now, I KNOW I would not have been able to succeed that first year if it had not been for Johanna Genry!
The little community of Tapiola was composed, primarily, of farmers of Finnish ancestry. (In fact, not that many years before I taught there, the Kindergarten teacher had to teach the children English!) The school and a combination gas station/all purpose grocery store comprised the business district.
I can still see the school in my mind's eye. It was a two-story stone structure (3-story, if you count the basement, boiler room & lunchroom). There was one classroom for each grade, K-12. The first-grade classroom (mine) was on the 1st floor, right next to the principal's office. The principal -- "Mr. Allen", I believe -- had this absolutely hideous disease where his bones were growing together, and was quite unable to ascend the stairs to the second floor to "observe". In addition, he had this somewhat quaint practice of "observing" just outside of one's classroom door. As a consequence, all of us who were teaching on the first floor daily assigned a "spy" to alert us when Mr. Allen was just outside our door in the hall observing.
That first year was really memorable. All of them were, actually, but the first one especially so! I applied so many of Johanna's techniques! One that I used -- over & over again -- was gathering the children around me on the floor (I would be sitting on one of the little one's chairs) while I read or told them a story. The children were often so enrapt that my spy failed to report!
One day, I was called to the principal's office. I thought, "Oh, my gosh, I'm in trouble now. He will soon tell me what I have done wrong, I hope!" I was really nervous. He said, "When I was outside your door 'observing' earlier today, I noticed that you had all your children sitting on the floor around you." My immediate thought was, "My gosh, I had them sitting on a cold floor!" Then he said, "That reminded me of a time many years ago when I was 'observing' another first grade teacher. The teacher was telling the children the story of the 'Three Little Pigs'. The story was going along according to norm when the teacher changed the ending to ... 'and he ate the little pigs all up'. (!!) There was dead silence in the classroom. Then, -- finally --one young child exclaimed, 'The son of a b _ _ _ _!'" (It wasn't until many years later that I tried this variant ending on one of my first grade classes, and you know what the response was? ... It was, "Oh, Mrs. _______, that's not how it goes!!" ... Love that one!)
I have so many good memories. I guess I'll leave you with one final one ... ... that of a husband & wife (father & mother) of one of my students -- "Danny", I guess I'll never forget his name -- who appeared at the final "Open House" of that first year (and, I was told later, they had never appeared in school before at a PTO/A meeting or "Open House"!).
"Danny" was eight years old when he started the first grade. He was the youngest of many children (I forget how many), and the "baby" of the family. His parents had held him back because they felt that some extra years might be necessary in his growth process to enable him to "learn". Well, Danny struggled, and I struggled right along with him. He tried MIGHTILY, and I passed him along to the second grade.
His parents were there to thank me for trying to teach their child how to read. They said that no other teacher had worked so hard with any of their children, and they wanted to let me know how much they appreciated my efforts on their child's behalf.
This is now MANY years later, but I still feel a very warm glow thinking of the hugs we exchanged that evening.
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