Noteworthy
I came home from school today and cried on Patrick's shoulder for about 10 minutes. I have realized that the children can frustrate me, sadden me, or exhilarate me, but the principal can make me cry. I'm trying so hard to do what he wants me to do, and I feel like I just don't ever get it right.
We had to give our first 9-weeks pretests today, so we were testing all day. My poor little 6-year-olds, doing paper and pencil, listen-to-the-teacher-read-the-directions tests all day long. By the end of the day, they were stir-crazy, and not even 10 minutes of dance break got their wiggles out.
In the morning, we worked on our book of the month. It's a school-wide project: every class reads the book and then makes a bulletin board of student work outside the classroom. It's due on the first of the month. We got the book on Tuesday. I decided to do sequencing, so we read the book three times, then we talked about the order in which things happened, and each child drew a picture of part of the story, and then we put them in order (in four groups). I am trying not to be late getting any of my things done for Mr. Robey, so this afternoon, when I really needed to leave early enough to get to the bank and cash my paycheck, I stayed to try to put up the bulletin board. Mr. Robey, passing my classroom, commented, "Is that something you want or need to be doing, Ms. H--?" I responded that I thought we were supposed to have it up by the end of the day. "That's really something your ASSISTANT should do," he responded, walking away. I felt awful. I can't do anything right.
Take-Aways from today: I have really accepted the TFA indoctrination and I believe every success and failure in my classroom rests solely within my control, I love my children and want to give them the opportunity to succeed, and there are not enough hours in the day. And I will push onward, trying (in vain?) to please my principal.
When students finished their tests ahead of their peers, I let them draw pictures or write me letters. Here are two of them:
F-- writes: "I love my teacher... (something about) wet pants... I love you, is my best teacher."
J-- told me: "This is for you. This is you... and your husband." Oh. My husband???
At least my children think I'm noteworthy.
We had to give our first 9-weeks pretests today, so we were testing all day. My poor little 6-year-olds, doing paper and pencil, listen-to-the-teacher-read-the-directions tests all day long. By the end of the day, they were stir-crazy, and not even 10 minutes of dance break got their wiggles out.
In the morning, we worked on our book of the month. It's a school-wide project: every class reads the book and then makes a bulletin board of student work outside the classroom. It's due on the first of the month. We got the book on Tuesday. I decided to do sequencing, so we read the book three times, then we talked about the order in which things happened, and each child drew a picture of part of the story, and then we put them in order (in four groups). I am trying not to be late getting any of my things done for Mr. Robey, so this afternoon, when I really needed to leave early enough to get to the bank and cash my paycheck, I stayed to try to put up the bulletin board. Mr. Robey, passing my classroom, commented, "Is that something you want or need to be doing, Ms. H--?" I responded that I thought we were supposed to have it up by the end of the day. "That's really something your ASSISTANT should do," he responded, walking away. I felt awful. I can't do anything right.
Take-Aways from today: I have really accepted the TFA indoctrination and I believe every success and failure in my classroom rests solely within my control, I love my children and want to give them the opportunity to succeed, and there are not enough hours in the day. And I will push onward, trying (in vain?) to please my principal.
When students finished their tests ahead of their peers, I let them draw pictures or write me letters. Here are two of them:
F-- writes: "I love my teacher... (something about) wet pants... I love you, is my best teacher."
J-- told me: "This is for you. This is you... and your husband." Oh. My husband???
At least my children think I'm noteworthy.
posted by Jessica at 10:03 PM
2 Comments:
Either that's a crown & you're married to a king, or your 'husband' is a cat!
I notice you're children don't think you're fourteen! To them you are a Grown Up, and Grown Ups are always married (or maybe divorced).
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