Or A summer camping trip with my dad.
This past weekend, my dad and I went to the North Carolina mountains in the Wilson Creek Wilderness to camp. Here are some pictures of the trail. The middle one is a set of waterfalls and swimming pools. I don't have pictures of them, but we encountered two snakes on our second day. One was at Hunt Fish Falls and one was in the middle of the trail as we were hiking back to base camp. My dad had to take a stick and knock it on the ground near the snake to get it to go somewhere else so we could get by. Neither snakes were rattlers, so that was a plus.
Our campsite is only about 30 minutes in from the car. It sits at the bottom of this huge rock which the middle picture is taken on and is to the right of the far right picture. Above the rock is a great little swimming hole (the first picture) that is one of the reasons why we like the campsite so much. The other is that it is so far off the main trail that our dog, Max, can't hear hikers as they pass by. A constant background noise is the sound of the waterfall.
Hunt Fish Falls is the thing that originally brought us to this area around ten years ago. It is this humongous swimming hole. It is an easy 1.5 hour hike from our campsite to the Falls. There is road access from another side of the wilderness that keeps many hikers off our trail. When we got here we were the only ones. But after a while a family and a camp showed up.
The first night of our stay we were rained on on our drive up, during dinner at the campsite, and as we were sleeping. The result was that 90% of our stuff was wet be the first morning. Good news there was that our second day was beautiful and there wasn't a cloud in the sky until 5pm. We were able to dry out some stuff that morning before we went to Hunt Fish Falls.
Or How NC has turned me into a bookworm and I love it.
Some interesting things I have learned this past week and weekend. In this time I have almost read two great books: The World Without Us and The Pixar Touch. The first is a thought experiment about what would happen if we (humans) dramatically and instantly left the Earth. The second is the story of the guys behind Pixar who pretty much made computer animation and computer animation film making.
1. North America used to have 15 species of megafuana (species of large animals that have very few natural predators). Most of these species were killed off within 1,000 years of early humans entering the continent.
Here is a wikipedia article about it http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pleistocene_megafauna#North_America
2. Tires are a single molecule. I will say it again, Tires are a single molecule. Here's an exerpt from the book.
Here is a wikipedia article about vulcanization.Goodyear's process, called vulcanization, ties long rubber polymer chains together with short strands of sulfer atoms, actually transforming them into a single giant molecule. Once rubber is vulcanized - meaning it's heated, spiked with sulfer, and poured into a mold, such as one shaped like a truck tire - the resulting huge molecule takes that form and never relinquishes it.
Being a single molecule, a tire can't be melted down and turned into something else.
3. There are seven gyres in the world's oceans. They are depressions in the water created by currents and winds and they house lots and lots of trash. in 2005, the North Pacific Gyre was 10 million square miles of trash floating on the top of the water - almost the size of Africa.
Here is a quick wikipedia article on the oceanic gyres.
4. Here are several of Pixar's first movies. They are shorts. They are all completely computer animated.
Tin Toy (1988)
Gerri's Game (1997)
Red's Dream (1987)
Luxo Jr. (1986)
"It's hard to do it because you have got to look people in the eye and tell them they're irresponsible and lazy. And who's going to want to do that? Because that's what poverty is, ladies and gentlemen. In this country (USA), you can succeed if you get educated and work hard. Period."
- Bill O'Reilly
Yeah, I used a Bill O'Reilly quote. Sue me.
On some level, I've definitely become more conservative politically after this past this year. I once thought that all of the society's problems--especially those heaped on poor or working class Blacks--could be traced to White racism. Blame White folks. It's their fault South Trenton is how it is, Mattapan is how it is, and the Delta is how it is. Nowadays I have some slightly different views and I do recognize the issue of individual choice that every person must make in their own lives to either use $20 to buy an ACT prep book or to use it to get drunk one weekend with friends. Making "the right" choice is tough and I can still understand why so many people don't make that choice, but still, "don't blame other people for your own actions." I tell me students this all the time.
Anyway, one of my greatest success stories this past year has been with a student whose initials are QF. QF was in my fifth period World History class this past year and failed pretty abysmally the first semester (I believe he had a 13 the first nine weeks). Attempts to contact his grandmother proved unsuccessful and I expected the 2nd semester to be much more of the same from him since he seemed to form a tandem with his best friend who he sat next to. Both were 18 in a 10th grade class (for 15 year-olds). However, when we came back to school in January I moved his seat away from this best friend of his who was biggest clown in the class. This--and the real prospect of being a 19 year-old sophomore--proved to be all the difference for him. He went from being one of the worst students in the class to one of hte best academically. He answered questions actively, turned in work on time and correctly done, and demonstrated content knowledge beyond the majority of the class. At one point, I believe he even had the highest grade in the class--higher than honor students who had passed all along.
What amazed me even more than his dramatic academic turnaround was the way in which he drew to me personally. Fifth period is lunch period in Humphreys County and so QF's class was chaperoned to and from lunch by me daily. This chaperoning meant that I had ample time to talk to my students informally as we walked to lunch, as we ate, and as we walked back. I noticed that QF started hanging back sometimes to talk with me in line or when we got to the cafeteria he would come and sit wherever I was and strike up conversation about anything (usually poking fun at another student or teacher and how or what they ate, wore, etc.). It was a small gesture but it was evident of the fact that he felt some sort of bond with me where he wanted to be around me and talk with me. He knew that I listened and that I would engage him, unlike other teachers who may be more stand-offish or dismissive of him. One day he opened up to me about his future aspirations scholastically and vocationally. He talked to me about how he wanted to correspond next year and then join the military. I talked to him about these choices and convinced him that he was not only a good student but that he could use that academic ability (when he focused) to do anything he wanted. He was not limited by the military option that he saw so many of those around him pursue.
I think I truly "reached" QF and I hope that I see him again next year AT SCHOOL. Sadly, his average for the second semester was not enough to pull up his average from the first semester and he failed my class. Nevertheless, I am more than sure that he has more confidence in himself academically than he ever did before and that he knows he has a teacher that cares about him beyond the books and assignments and special projects and exams and office referrals. Absolutley invaluable.
"I have not failed. I've just found 10,000 ways that don't work."
- Thomas Edison
Well, this has not happened yet but I'm working on it. My failures this year often seemed monumental and definitely were less frequent than I would have liked. Still, a number of scenarios stand out in my mind that I would love to write about. This past year I would count as my greatest failure the relationship I developed with one particular student in particular, SR, and the relationship that I had with my entire homeroom/first period class more generally.
SR was in my homeroom and first period U.S. history class. He was 15 in 8th grade--not terrible by our school's standards but definitely not ideal since he's already two years behind. For a good part of the year he was a jokester in class and did very little work. This usually occurred when I moved him to the front of the class in the desk closest to mine. He sat in front of my most problematic student, WB, and the two of them often proved a volatile combination. I enjoyed the days that one or the other was either suspended, absent, or sent out of my class. These days, while frequent enough, did not make up for some day when they were absolutely off the hook. Sending them to the office did nothing. Calling parents and older sibs did nothing. Almost weekly "come to Jesus" talks did nothing. Paddling from WB's football coach did nothing. Sad though all-too-common situation.
During the state test in language arts this past spring both of these students acted out so much the first day of testing that I told my junior high principal that they needed to be moved to another room for their test the second and third day. I could not deal with them and, more importantly, did not want to try. It was too late in the school year. The students were already going to *fail* my course and, at best, be 16 year-old 8th graders next year or, at worst, drop out. My principal said he'd look into it and, the next morning when they both strolled into my class I immediately sent them back out. My principal came down and told me that they have to stay in the classroom. Great. That day went like the previous one and tomfoolery ensued. After the test was over I wanted to give my students an easy homework assignment so that they could pull up their meager averages. As I do sometimes, I waited for the class to completely quiet down before I talked. As happens very often, they did not quiet down. Either SR or WB would usually be the one who commented first. After a few minutes of this I had a collective "come to Jesus" talk with the class.
"How many of you think you're gonna pass my class?," I asked. Only two or three out of 20 students raised their hand. "How many of you think WB is gonna pass my class?," I asked. No student raised their hand.
"Aww, now why you gotta go and do that, Mr.Amutah?," WB stated. I ignored him.
"How many of you think SR is gonna pass my class?," SR shyly and laughingly raised his hand.
"So why do you let these students that you KNOW are not gonna pass allow you all to lose focus? Everytime you laugh at what they do you give them feul. What they're doing is not funny. It's sad. Because they know they've failed my class and will be here next year and they're trying to bring you with them. Don't let them do it to you."
WB was pissed about being called out in front of the class like that. He was the reigning class clown and cool kid. Can't do that to him--SR was just his understudy. He mumbled something or other about me being crazy and telling a story on him and walked out of my class. I could care less. The end-of-the-day bell rang. I told my class to go home and turned to my computer to check my email. As I was doing so I saw that SR had not moved from him desk. After all the others students filed out of the room he came over to my desk and asked if I really thought he wasn't going to pass my class. I gave him the "are you CRAZY?!?" look and said that he himself knew better than anyone else whether he was going to pass or fail my class and the credit would go solely to him. He remarked that he was remorseful and that he couldn't be in 8th grade again. He's supposed to be heading into 11th! I had more or less run out of pity and I dismissed him from my room. Time to download that application for the Oxford School District.
On August 6, 2007, the principal of S.V. Marshall High School stood in the middle of the gymnasium and introduced the new teachers -- as usual, about 1/3 of the faculty -- to the assembled students. Four new math teachers were introduced, and the school year started with the following line-up:
7th grade - Ms. Gordon
8th grade - Mr. Arandt
9th grade - Mr. Ray
10th grade - Mr. Nastrom
11th grade - Mr. Naklicke
When the year ended the staffing pattern of those positions looked like this:
7th grade - Ms. Gordon / Long-term Sub / Ms. Clark
8th grade - Mr. Arandt / Long-term Sub / Mr. Collins / Long-term Sub / Ms. Walker
9th grade - Mr. Ray
10th grade - Mr. Nastrom
11th grade - Mr. Naklicke / Long-term Sub / Mr. Chisholm / Long-term Sub
Those are facts. It's also a fact that in August 2007, 26 MTC members started as 1st-year teachers and 24 were still there on the last day of school. To us in MTC, those numbers (92%) suck; anyone who quits in the middle of the school year is a tremendous disappointment. But in comparison to my department last year, which had only 40% of its original teachers at the end of the year and had lost 2 mid-year hires on top of that, 24 out of 26 isn't so bad.
In light of these numbers, I marvel at the internal worry in MTC over whether we're qualified to be there or whether we have good motives or whether we do any good at all. Now, after a year of teaching, the answers are so obvious the questions are barely worth asking. And a year ago, when I agreed to join MTC, I really checked at the door all reason to gaze at my own navel about these things. I signed up to do a job and that was that.
But that's just me, and I've been wrong before. Maybe I still should be looking deeper. Or maybe -- probably -- almost certainly, I really believe that I can do some good in a critical needs school, and self-doubt has no place in this theater of operations.
If the history books are right, Mississippi has always been a place for people willing to make big decisions in a big hurry and back them up with whatever it takes. I suppose that's still true.
Makes me wanna gag and hurl. The students at Harvard are by-and-large herded into careers that put people before profits (shoutout to my boy Philip Parham '09 who appears in the video, however). It relates to another discussion going on as well.
I feel that the learning goal that was most effective for me involved teaching the Middle Passage to my 8th graders in U.S. History (prior to 1877). Very simply, this lesson was highly effective because I showed the students a movie as oppose to talking to them (lecturing?) or giving them something to read. The students were glued to the TV screen and actively asked questions about what they saw in front of them. I've been conflicted about using movies in my class as the main means of instruction in any particular lesson. However, in light of this lesson, I've come to see their utility in teaching certain material. The collective audio and visual representation of historical events in conjunction with the fact that the average teenager in this country--or adult, for that matter--spends many more hours each day watching television than reading. I guess the students just get more out of that.
If I could describe my first-year of teaching in one phrase it would be “long strange trip”. Despite the summer training, advice from first years, and repeated delta-autumn readings, there was no way I could anticipate what lay ahead of me in the upcoming year. I learned a great deal about myself, mostly through the comedy of errors that was my teaching experience. Ultimately, I feel as though I gained a great deal of knowledge about myself, not only as a teacher, but as a man.
The tools I gained through my first summer in Teacher Corp as well as my fall methods class were reasonably useful. I picked up teaching strategies that I definitely applied in my classroom from Dr. Monroe’s class. Veteran teachers from my building pulled me aside and gave me useful tricks of the trade. Some of the Professional Development meetings I attended were even useful. Mostly, though, things were learned from trial and error. I tried things that I thought would work wonderfully and saw them fail miserably. I spent all night working on activities that seemed to have boundless potential only to face blank stares and bored students.
I tried to maintain high hopes. I would attempt different classroom management strategies. I tried to come up with creative teaching techniques. I got involved with extra curriculars. The one thing I realized is that energy was a difficult thing to maintain. Teaching is tiring. I often thought, what if I only had a couple more hours. Especially when work bled into your personal life and you could never successfully recharge after a the weeks started stringing together.
I set high goals, but I can't say I successfully achieve any of these goals. Not only because I'm a bad person who isn't very good at setting and achieving goals, but, much like the idea of teaching, these things are a progress and not set destination points . You think you are making progress in your classroom management, and the quiet kid who never says anything explodes into a firestorm. The kid who is always goofing off and never on task, displays a remarkable knack for pneumonic devices and its up finishing incredibly well. Kids fluctuate. They respond to external stimulus, both positive and negative, and need you to model consistency. This, for me, was the hardest part of teaching. In many ways, you get thrust head first into adulthood. Its not only that feeling of all your time going to teaching that makes your first-year brutal. Its the additional feeling that you're becoming your father (or whatever older figure that you don't want to become just yet). You start doing old people stuff, start railing ag.ainst the music they listen to or they're faux rebellious style they comport themselves with. As the teacher, you end up on the wrong side of the cool spectrum; because all your time is dedicated to the profession, you feel the worse for the wear as a result.
Overall, however, I enjoyed my first year. I learned a great deal and got to take part in the lives of some very unique young people. To some degree, I feel as though I am working towards a larger goal, towards a larger purpose. Being a semi-useful vessel for this purpose is not always clear or confidence-inspiring, but it does give some direction and sense of meaning. I know that I have done good work and, hopefully, can make strides on improving in the upcoming year.
Um..
So, if I had done all of the statistics that my district wanted me to do, I could just look in my files and spit out some numbers for you. I didn't. I'm really kind of pulling at straws for this one.
most successful learning goal:
Grammar and mechanics, maybe? My Do Now nearly every day was a DOL exercise, and I feel like this was pretty much the most effective method I used teaching grammar. I could really see progress from the beginning of the year to the end. Perhaps it was because these were fairly simple concepts to understand, unlike many of the skills I attempted to teach. Perhaps it was because I used tickets most consistently with my DOL to encourage participation. Maybe it was just because we did it so very often. I'm not sure.
least successful learning goal:
I think this was parallel structure. Of course, it's possible that this was just the most recent failure of mine. Who knows.. Why did it fail? That's a very good question. I taught it in a way that seemed to make sense, but apparently did not. I have yet to find a successful method of teaching it.. Of course, one of my wonderful first-years is teaching it soon, so maybe she will have the key. I'm crossing my fingers. Ok. Why... My students don't know enough grammar. I didn't realize soon enough that I really needed to emphasize the basics, so I didn't get a chance to cover as much basic grammar as I would've liked. Because they didn't have a horribly firm grasp of sentence structure at the beginning, the concept of parallel sentence structure was a real stretch. Also, I had run low on motivation to come up with creative, exciting lessons by this time, so they weren't really that into it to begin with.
My performance this year was lacking. As we've said over and over, the first year is about surviving. I survived. Barely. I let my students bad behaviors get under my skin and got frustrated. I associated school with misery and frustration, so I avoided anything that had to do with it. I dreaded lesson planning, so all of my lessons were boring, so the students hated my class, so they acted up, so I got angry, so I hated school, and so on and so forth. It was fun!
I've said this before, and I'll say it again. This year, I will do better. That's my resolution. I will try my hardest to keep a positive attitude no matter what happens. I will look at my long-term goals for my students. I will work slowly, incrementally, and patiently with my students. I will plan ahead. I will bring creativity into my lessons. I will not feel sorry for myself, attempting instead to focus on my students. Lofty goals, eh?