As a warning, this blog is going to be incredibly long and probably not all that interesting for your reading pleasure, and it's actually more for me to look back on when I'm applying to the Woodring College of Education or whatnot.
Alas, summer school at Elma Middle School has ended.
The the beginning of the week, there were six kids in the math class who were in danger of failing. One girl and her father came in to talk to the teacher, and, during the final days of class, the girl bucked up and passed by .48%. I was so happy that she had passed, because I knew she wanted to and because she was smart enough. But then I realized that we shouldn't have taken pity on her, because she had every opportunity to get an A in that class. She simply chose to not put in the work or effort, then she freaked out when she was failing. She went to summer school because she played the same slacking-off game during the regular school year, and who's to say that she won't do the same next year? What this girl needs to learn isn't math or English or social studies. She needs to learn to be accountable for herself. Both the teacher and I were aware that she could do the math, so we both prompted her to actually do the work and finish her tests. I feel like we did all we could; we talked to the girl, the father and sister were involved, and, in the end, the girl came to, but it was only because she had an "oh crap" moment when she realized what her slacking off had done. My question for myself as a future teacher is: how do you make a kid want to learn, do the work, and be engaged?
That boy who kept failing all this tests despite massive amounts of one-on-one help did fail in the end. I think that part of the problem was a learning disability on his part, and he had very little patience and was very mouthy as a result. By the end, I was actually afraid of this kid - not just because he was bigger than me. I was afraid of him because he represented failure. Not only that, but I was afraid that he would blow up in my face when I was trying to work with him. At times, he would want to work and he would try and he would actually understand, then he would shut down other times. He sulked by himself for the first few weeks then changed his seat to a more central area. Unfortunately, he befriended three of the most outspoken and obnoxious kids, so he was constantly turned around, talking and laughing with them. I realized that he was happier but he concentrated less on his work. When he couldn't do the work, he'd just turn around and chat. This situation was no better than the first; he would first sulk by himself and get mad at me and not do his work at all, then he would spend most of his time chatting and not concentrating much at all when he changed seats. Just as I've witnessed kids getting much more work done while being isolated from friends, I've witnessed kids blossom while sitting with a friend, but this particular kid was a lose-lose situation. As a teacher's aid, I couldn't do a whole lot in this situation. Or at least that's what it felt like. If I was the teacher, I would have tried working one-on-one with this kid then contacted the parents. I would have tried to get the kid into a special-ed class where he could get more specialized help, because I know now that this kid needed it more than any other. Part of me feels awful for being so helpless and letting this kid slip through my fingers, but the other part of me knows it's not my fault; this kid needs more help than what I can offer in a classroom setting. There's still no excuse for his failing.
The second kid that failed was one of my favorite students. He was small (smaller than me) and smiley, but he hardly ever attempted his work. He hardly ever had a pencil, and if he did, he didn't use it, and I would have to prompt him to take out a piece of paper and begin writing. He simply had his head in the clouds, and I couldn't call him back to Earth. He failed every single test, and each time, he would keep the test until the last minute while chatting with the other kids. He wasn't cheating, he was just screwing around because it was more fun than working. I think he could do the work if he wanted to apply himself. I think his family needed to be contacted as well, but I can't help but hope that there are some tricks that the Woodring College of Education will teach me that will help me excite and interest kids like him and the girl I mentioned before.
The third kid that failed was an odd duck. He was a lot like the kid I just mentioned, but he actually did the work half the time. He probably would have passed had he not dropped out on the second-to-last day. I admit to not really knowing what was going on with this guy, and maybe I would have been able to get inside his head a bit more had I known more about him. What happened was that he was slacking off one day and the lady who followed the 8th grade class around told him that he'd better buck up or he'd be held back and not allowed to go onto the 8th grade. Apparently he said to her that it didn't matter if he failed because his mom would let him move onto the next grade anyway. I'm not even sure if parents have a say in promoting or retaining their kid. Anyway, what I have gathered from that incident and from previously having heard him back-talk to the other aid and myself is that this is a spoiled kid. I'm still not sure what I could or should have done differently. To say the last, I was never very fond of this kid (and for good reason), but how can I reach out to these kinds of kids who I just don't like and who doesn't like me back? That's not to say that I'll ever give up on one of these kids, but it's difficult to put extra time and energy into helping a kid who really doesn't care about school or you.
I was incredibly happy when the kids who succeeded did succeed, and that ecstatic feeling outweighed the feeling of sadness of the failures, and I now know that what I live for is seeing kids succeed and being part of that success. I know that kids will fail no matter how much you try to save them, and seeing some kids fail was hard for me, but it was nothing compared to the joy I felt with those who succeeded. I think I was more happy than them.
This whole experience has taught me a great deal and it can be summed up into two categories: what I learned I'm good at/what I improved on and what I have issues with. Er... I mean, on what I improved and with what I have issues. There. No more prepositions at the end of phrases. Phew.
What I'm good at:
1.) I've always been shy, and during the first few days of summer school, I was nervous to look over the shoulders of the kids and tell them what they'd done right and wrong. I was just scared to get in their faces. After a the first week, I gained confidence to crouch down with them and work out a problem out with them. In essence, I've gotten a lot better at connecting with the students and not being afraid of them.
2.) I have a lot of patience, and patience is truly a virtue in the teaching profession. I never got frustrated with a kid for being slow. I only became frustrated when the kids were slacking when they were completely able to do the work.
3.) I'm not sure if one can be good at having enthusiasm, but I definitely have an enthusiasm for teaching. I love the kids and I love helping them learn. The classroom is where I want to be for many, many years to come.
What I need to improve on: *ahem* On what I need to improve:
1.) I need to work on my discipline kills. I'm great at being the "friend" but not at taking control. More than once, I'd tell a kid to do or not do something, and they'd ignore me. Part of the problem is that I look as young as them, and I'm shorter than most of them. I need to learn to take control and at least look menacing. Ha.
2.) I still have yet to feel completely comfortable working one-on-one with kids, because I'm afraid they'll get frustrated at me as they struggle - whether or not it's my fault. I think I need more confidence.
3.) I know there's so much more for me to learn, but these were the blairing "goods" and "bads" and I'm sure I've forgotten many. It's late, I have a headache, and I'm not wearing my glasses, so my writing isn't to fabulous at the moment. As if it ever is...
Looking back, this opportunity gave me a chance to
-work with many Hispanic kids, not just white ones like I'm used to
-listen to discussions between parents and their children and the teacher
-learn how much energy middle schoolers have!
-understand that I don't want to work in a predominately white school. I want to help the kids that really need help not because of a learning disability here or there or a spoiled kid with behavior problems. I want to help the students who want to learn but cannot due to poor schools and inexperienced teachers.
-learn how much time and energy it takes to run a classroom
-learn that middle schoolers need to have something to do constantly, or they'll quickly get out of hand
-learn that middle schoolers need to have a great deal of direction or they're not likely to go in the correct direction at all
-get that happy feeling of walking into a school each day, then watch the students file into the classroom as I waited excitedly to start each new day and each new class period
-...and loads of other stuff too. I think my brain stopped working a few hours ago. I didn't get my nap today!
I left on a happy note, at least. I was given a nice thank you card from the teachers, and the head teacher said he'd like me to come back next year and asked if I had any friends who would be interested in volunteering as well. I kept thinking that I'd see if I could volunteer at the Elma High School next year instead of the middle school just to get a wide range of experience, but I want to go back to that middle school. I enjoyed the experience so much and I miss the kids, so I'll probably volunteer there again. And at this point, I'm not sure if I'm ready to instruct high school students who aren't that much younger than me. But we'll see.
--Elie (who won't be Ms. Hartman for a while, unfortunately)
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