Over end-of-term drinks, our principal quite rightly related an anecdote all teachers can relate to. It's the response one gets from people when you answer their "so what do you do?" question. They always say:
"oh, that must be SO rewarding!"
We can tell you now, categorically, that many, many, many days it is not. When you are constantly fighting with rude obnoxious teenagers who don't care how much they ignore or upset you... "rewarding" is not the word that comes to mind. This ain't gardening you know, despite what all those cheesy motivational posters might say.
There are many reasons to dislike my job. I would, however, like to describe one big reason why I LOVE my job.
I ADORE my job because of the extra layers of humanity it has revealed to me in people so very different to me. Whether these revelations are indicative of an unhealthy mindset I have/had or what not, I have yet to figure out. But this much I know: I don't see car guards or wire-flower sellers any more. I don't see domestic workers or taxi drivers. I don't see security guards or Checkers bag packers or trolley pushers or garbage men.
I now can't help but see the fathers and mothers of my children. These are the parents of my students: the ones who I call to help me when their teen is being a brat. The ones who come to talk with me about their child and we smile and greet and share tea. The ones like Bongi who, on seeing a class being rude to me, stormed in as the angry matriarch she is and put the students in their place pronto quick. Like Clive, who always asks how I am before we start talking about how to make sure his son comes to school. Like Angel, who always supports my corrective measures towards either of her sons and calls me 'her child' and invites me into her home.
Thank you, my heart-breaking-exhausting-soul-dessicating job for these friends and these insights. My life is richer for the connection and the personhood I can now see and feel in these strangers I encounter every day.
Friday, 29 March 2013
Thursday, 28 March 2013
The trick is to keep breathing
Today was our last day at school for the first term. I have here a list of things to blog about which has been growing and growing for the last 3 weeks and never managed to get around to writing about any of it. It's a pity really: they are all good topics and, I think, quite interesting. Some included issues such as our contact and working with social workers and support NGOs to support our students with their issues at home, my first meeting with curriculum advisors, an incident with a student which got a bit physical, the interview process of finding new teachers to fill the vacancies left by those who have left us (and along with this, the loss of our second teacher), my first discussion about religion with my students, amongst others. I'll do my best to briefly touch on these and others in a summative blog post, otherwise I'll run the risk of putting you to sleep with a blog post longer than my arm.
But first, the end of term. The sense of profound relief is indescribable. I've lost count of the number of times this term I've thought I just can't go on. Honestly, I'm not sure how we all have. I'd be lying if I sort of nodded, smiled and said 'yeah, but that's how I roll: I'm tough like that'. Bulls@£t. I have wanted to run to my mummy and cry like a baby... and I have (except it was my husband). I have lost my cool with the kids, more than once (and paid the price for it). I have sworn and cursed and driven too fast and drunk too much in response to the stress. So no heroes here. I'm pleased to say I have not lashed out at my students--this is just not something I think I have in me. But boy oh boy, there are a few who I would secretly smile at if they tripped and fell. And I don't like this in myself. It doesn't last too long, I'm pleased to say: for the most part, I'm really starting to like my kids, even the naughty ones. But in the heat of the moment...
How have we done? On reflection, kind of ok I think. We have done some fun activities in the last few days to keep the kids engaged and in school: our attendance hasn't been great towards the end of term (maybe 70-75%?) but I suspect this is better than average at this time of year. We had the fight of maintaining the learning after the end-of-term assessments, an event that was another window into what our students considered 'normal'--the idea that we would teach after these assessments was met with much anger and confusion. Our students are truly used to their teachers marking in lessons while the students run amok. Some responded to the rational argument about lost lessons accumulating, others just had to be told straight. And of course, the other side of this struggle has been as teachers to not succumb to the temptation to utilize this expectation from the students to make our lives easier. Sure, we could've marked during lessons. I'd probably have gotten more than 6 hours of sleep a night if I had. Tempting? of course it is. Some of us held out better than others, but we were all tempted to do this. In this week we have had a day of 'sporty stuff', including obstacle courses, sack races, soccer, netball, tug-of-war (we broke a 2 inch thick rope! I truly wish I'd seen all the grade 8s fall to the floor simultaneously >:) ) and a treasure hunt. The kids loved it. They went bos!! (SA slang for crazy). Loud, fast, furious, and crazy! Their sense of being able to lose is non-existent: the rule of the day was if you won, it wasn't cheating, but if the other team won, it was. If you didn't help your class cheat, you were 'fixing it'. We all shook our heads in disbelief at the approach to competition that the children took. If you asked the teachers, we'd say the day was nuts. But if you asked the kids, they would say it was awesome. At the end of the day, they didn't want to leave. 'nuff said.
There's never a dull moment you know. If we're not liaising with social services about situations of potential abuse, we're reeling from the loss of another teacher, or watching our kids start a car wash business in the car park, or wondering what to do about our students who eat the eugenia berries around the playground and sit in class farting intolerably as a result. Only just today, at our end-of-term awards ceremony, this small girl in my grade 8 class, a combination of shy and slightly chatty/cheeky, dressed up in her uxhentso traditional wear and transformed before our eyes into the most unbelievable 4 foot high umbongi (praise singer)!! She let forth in a huge voice--other-worldly in nature--a torrent of praise in isiXhosa to our headteacher, with her fly-switch of grass and her painted face, singing his praises for believing in them, for seeing a future for them, for coming to the community and building a school and how grateful the children were. The response from the staff and students alike was explosive: I have never jabbed my fist in the air as I did then. She was truly something else.
In the process she clapped him on the forehead with her fly switch. He only noticed as the trickle of blood dripped down his nose!! :D
Just when I think I know a student, I realise I don't. Just when I think I've got a class where I want them, they show me who is boss. Just when I think I'm getting enough sleep, something else crops up that needs doing: interviews, timetable, preparing for the curriculum advisors (this requires a separate blog entirely!) report entries and inter-colleague tensions that arise from this process. I won't lie: my alcohol intake has increased, in capacity and speed (as was evidenced by my boss's surprise at the rate I downed a 500ml cider at our post-school drink after school. Daily I'm horrified at a good student's capacity for lying and rudeness, at a troubled student's inability to empathize with his fellow students, only in the next hour to be over-awed at how happy 5 children are who got their reward of a KFC bucket and a coke each to share for lunch because they didn't miss a single day of their cleaning crew all term. In one day my class can raise me up from wanting to quit, and then another student puts me in an arm lock. Most of my students' marks are still terrible, and yet there are enough of them who have said in all honesty that they never knew they could like mathematics.
The next week brings loads of planning, a new school timetable as we welcome two new staff and a 5 day conference (MES7: www.mes7.uct.ac.za) where I will get to present my Master's research to an audience who represent an international body of experts on school's like mine. I'm really looking forward to taking what I have seen in the last 3 months and getting some alternative views on it. I could do with some ideas and inspiration for some of these issues. More posts about curriculum advisors and pedagogical stuff for those interested will follow shortly. In the mean time...
*ahhhh*
P.S. Props to any one who can post a comment naming the artist who sang the title song.
But first, the end of term. The sense of profound relief is indescribable. I've lost count of the number of times this term I've thought I just can't go on. Honestly, I'm not sure how we all have. I'd be lying if I sort of nodded, smiled and said 'yeah, but that's how I roll: I'm tough like that'. Bulls@£t. I have wanted to run to my mummy and cry like a baby... and I have (except it was my husband). I have lost my cool with the kids, more than once (and paid the price for it). I have sworn and cursed and driven too fast and drunk too much in response to the stress. So no heroes here. I'm pleased to say I have not lashed out at my students--this is just not something I think I have in me. But boy oh boy, there are a few who I would secretly smile at if they tripped and fell. And I don't like this in myself. It doesn't last too long, I'm pleased to say: for the most part, I'm really starting to like my kids, even the naughty ones. But in the heat of the moment...
How have we done? On reflection, kind of ok I think. We have done some fun activities in the last few days to keep the kids engaged and in school: our attendance hasn't been great towards the end of term (maybe 70-75%?) but I suspect this is better than average at this time of year. We had the fight of maintaining the learning after the end-of-term assessments, an event that was another window into what our students considered 'normal'--the idea that we would teach after these assessments was met with much anger and confusion. Our students are truly used to their teachers marking in lessons while the students run amok. Some responded to the rational argument about lost lessons accumulating, others just had to be told straight. And of course, the other side of this struggle has been as teachers to not succumb to the temptation to utilize this expectation from the students to make our lives easier. Sure, we could've marked during lessons. I'd probably have gotten more than 6 hours of sleep a night if I had. Tempting? of course it is. Some of us held out better than others, but we were all tempted to do this. In this week we have had a day of 'sporty stuff', including obstacle courses, sack races, soccer, netball, tug-of-war (we broke a 2 inch thick rope! I truly wish I'd seen all the grade 8s fall to the floor simultaneously >:) ) and a treasure hunt. The kids loved it. They went bos!! (SA slang for crazy). Loud, fast, furious, and crazy! Their sense of being able to lose is non-existent: the rule of the day was if you won, it wasn't cheating, but if the other team won, it was. If you didn't help your class cheat, you were 'fixing it'. We all shook our heads in disbelief at the approach to competition that the children took. If you asked the teachers, we'd say the day was nuts. But if you asked the kids, they would say it was awesome. At the end of the day, they didn't want to leave. 'nuff said.
There's never a dull moment you know. If we're not liaising with social services about situations of potential abuse, we're reeling from the loss of another teacher, or watching our kids start a car wash business in the car park, or wondering what to do about our students who eat the eugenia berries around the playground and sit in class farting intolerably as a result. Only just today, at our end-of-term awards ceremony, this small girl in my grade 8 class, a combination of shy and slightly chatty/cheeky, dressed up in her uxhentso traditional wear and transformed before our eyes into the most unbelievable 4 foot high umbongi (praise singer)!! She let forth in a huge voice--other-worldly in nature--a torrent of praise in isiXhosa to our headteacher, with her fly-switch of grass and her painted face, singing his praises for believing in them, for seeing a future for them, for coming to the community and building a school and how grateful the children were. The response from the staff and students alike was explosive: I have never jabbed my fist in the air as I did then. She was truly something else.
In the process she clapped him on the forehead with her fly switch. He only noticed as the trickle of blood dripped down his nose!! :D
Just when I think I know a student, I realise I don't. Just when I think I've got a class where I want them, they show me who is boss. Just when I think I'm getting enough sleep, something else crops up that needs doing: interviews, timetable, preparing for the curriculum advisors (this requires a separate blog entirely!) report entries and inter-colleague tensions that arise from this process. I won't lie: my alcohol intake has increased, in capacity and speed (as was evidenced by my boss's surprise at the rate I downed a 500ml cider at our post-school drink after school. Daily I'm horrified at a good student's capacity for lying and rudeness, at a troubled student's inability to empathize with his fellow students, only in the next hour to be over-awed at how happy 5 children are who got their reward of a KFC bucket and a coke each to share for lunch because they didn't miss a single day of their cleaning crew all term. In one day my class can raise me up from wanting to quit, and then another student puts me in an arm lock. Most of my students' marks are still terrible, and yet there are enough of them who have said in all honesty that they never knew they could like mathematics.
The next week brings loads of planning, a new school timetable as we welcome two new staff and a 5 day conference (MES7: www.mes7.uct.ac.za) where I will get to present my Master's research to an audience who represent an international body of experts on school's like mine. I'm really looking forward to taking what I have seen in the last 3 months and getting some alternative views on it. I could do with some ideas and inspiration for some of these issues. More posts about curriculum advisors and pedagogical stuff for those interested will follow shortly. In the mean time...
*ahhhh*
P.S. Props to any one who can post a comment naming the artist who sang the title song.
Tuesday, 26 February 2013
Creating spaces
Today warrants a special post about positionality, spurred by 2 contrasting events which just couldn't help but strike home.
Positionality is that schmancy academic word to refer to who you are relative to who others are... and how you negotiate your identities within the given context of the interaction, laden with history, power, appearance, income, language, race, accent, gender and anything else that might affect how you interact with people or they you.
SA is just a complete dogs breakfast when it comes to positionality. How you walk, how you talk, your accent, your dialect, your dress code, your gender, your car... and of course your language and your skin colour!!... are all used to pigeonhole you into a VERY specific, well defined and excessively laden identity within 5 seconds of meeting and greeting, an identity burdened with history and violence. Due to our geographical separation, for many people of many different identities, some physical spaces are so unfrequented by people of certain 'races' that you stick out like a sore thumb, branded by your melanin as an outsider.
For a 'white' person, a township is such a place. More importantly, South Africans walk around excessively conscientious of skin colour: their own and other peoples'. One of the first things that struck my students is the difference in our skin colours (I'll write another post soon about how my students see themselves due to their skin colour--that's a completely different can of worms).
So event 1 today. I completely lost any cogniscence of my skin colour. In the moment of doing maths with my boys at the whiteboard after school, we were chatting away in isiXhosa and it just didn't feature. Not a blip on the radar. My hand pointed to the number next to theirs, the colours were so obviously not the same and yet our difference just melted away. It was the first time I haven't felt 'white'. It was awesome. I was told by a student over the weekend: "Ma'am, sometimes I forget that you are white. I speak isiXhosa to you and I forget." Forget please, sana, forget away. The more you forget my 'whiteness' the better. The more I forget my whiteness, the better.
Which brings me to Event 2. We went to the local township library today (myself and my colleague, who is learning isiXhosa). We got to chatting while we were in the library with a group of junior school age boys... ok, I admit: I got to chatting with them. In isiXhosa of course! My poor colleague following along as I showed off. One boy, quite a bright young fellow, was adamant!!! He kept repeating in isiXhosa "no, but you're an umlungu! (white person) you don't speak isiXhosa". Over and over. Incredulity maybe?
Then he asked me "so where did you learn isiXhosa? where? where?"... getting quite angry and adamant that this thing he was hearing/seeing didn't make sense and he was going to get to the bottom of this trick I was pulling on him.
Him: "where did you learn isiXhosa? where?"
Me: "where did you learn English?"
Him: "but WHERE did you learn isiXhosa?"
Me: "where did you learn English?"
Him: "at school! I learnt English at school!! Where did you learn isiXhosa?"
Me: "at school. Like you".
It was the cutest teasing ever. This poor thing was besides himself. Such things cannot be, umlungus who speak isiXhosa. For his 7 year old mind, this was a trick. A trick he was determined to discover.
Then I became another boy's party trick. His friend came into the library and he bounded up to his friend and said "I've found an umlungu who can speak isiXhosa! Like PEH-FEKT-LEE. Like perfect!" (very flattering-my Xhosa is NOT perfect).
Friend: "no way, you are lying".
Boy: "it's true, it's true! That one there! (point at me)".
Friend: "uh-uh... no way"
Boy: "yers, like perfectly!".
Eventually, when I continued my conversation with the first boy, the second one turned to his friend and said in the most precocious voice "Seeeeeee, I told you so!". I was his party trick, his frog-in-a-lunchbox :) it was awesome.
What do we do when we defy others' expectations of us? How many spaces and opportunities do we create for real connection when we buck the very rigid stereotypes created by a system of racial and economic engineering which are still so ubiquitous in our South African society? I'm hoping that this is a really valuable lesson for my students: to not judge someone by the colour of their skin. In SA, it's a lesson we all need to learn again and again.
Positionality is that schmancy academic word to refer to who you are relative to who others are... and how you negotiate your identities within the given context of the interaction, laden with history, power, appearance, income, language, race, accent, gender and anything else that might affect how you interact with people or they you.
SA is just a complete dogs breakfast when it comes to positionality. How you walk, how you talk, your accent, your dialect, your dress code, your gender, your car... and of course your language and your skin colour!!... are all used to pigeonhole you into a VERY specific, well defined and excessively laden identity within 5 seconds of meeting and greeting, an identity burdened with history and violence. Due to our geographical separation, for many people of many different identities, some physical spaces are so unfrequented by people of certain 'races' that you stick out like a sore thumb, branded by your melanin as an outsider.
For a 'white' person, a township is such a place. More importantly, South Africans walk around excessively conscientious of skin colour: their own and other peoples'. One of the first things that struck my students is the difference in our skin colours (I'll write another post soon about how my students see themselves due to their skin colour--that's a completely different can of worms).
So event 1 today. I completely lost any cogniscence of my skin colour. In the moment of doing maths with my boys at the whiteboard after school, we were chatting away in isiXhosa and it just didn't feature. Not a blip on the radar. My hand pointed to the number next to theirs, the colours were so obviously not the same and yet our difference just melted away. It was the first time I haven't felt 'white'. It was awesome. I was told by a student over the weekend: "Ma'am, sometimes I forget that you are white. I speak isiXhosa to you and I forget." Forget please, sana, forget away. The more you forget my 'whiteness' the better. The more I forget my whiteness, the better.
Which brings me to Event 2. We went to the local township library today (myself and my colleague, who is learning isiXhosa). We got to chatting while we were in the library with a group of junior school age boys... ok, I admit: I got to chatting with them. In isiXhosa of course! My poor colleague following along as I showed off. One boy, quite a bright young fellow, was adamant!!! He kept repeating in isiXhosa "no, but you're an umlungu! (white person) you don't speak isiXhosa". Over and over. Incredulity maybe?
Then he asked me "so where did you learn isiXhosa? where? where?"... getting quite angry and adamant that this thing he was hearing/seeing didn't make sense and he was going to get to the bottom of this trick I was pulling on him.
Him: "where did you learn isiXhosa? where?"
Me: "where did you learn English?"
Him: "but WHERE did you learn isiXhosa?"
Me: "where did you learn English?"
Him: "at school! I learnt English at school!! Where did you learn isiXhosa?"
Me: "at school. Like you".
It was the cutest teasing ever. This poor thing was besides himself. Such things cannot be, umlungus who speak isiXhosa. For his 7 year old mind, this was a trick. A trick he was determined to discover.
Then I became another boy's party trick. His friend came into the library and he bounded up to his friend and said "I've found an umlungu who can speak isiXhosa! Like PEH-FEKT-LEE. Like perfect!" (very flattering-my Xhosa is NOT perfect).
Friend: "no way, you are lying".
Boy: "it's true, it's true! That one there! (point at me)".
Friend: "uh-uh... no way"
Boy: "yers, like perfectly!".
Eventually, when I continued my conversation with the first boy, the second one turned to his friend and said in the most precocious voice "Seeeeeee, I told you so!". I was his party trick, his frog-in-a-lunchbox :) it was awesome.
What do we do when we defy others' expectations of us? How many spaces and opportunities do we create for real connection when we buck the very rigid stereotypes created by a system of racial and economic engineering which are still so ubiquitous in our South African society? I'm hoping that this is a really valuable lesson for my students: to not judge someone by the colour of their skin. In SA, it's a lesson we all need to learn again and again.
Monday, 25 February 2013
Salvation in a teapot
It's been 3 weeks since the last blog post. Not that there hasn't been plenty plenty plenty to write about in the last 3 weeks, but this is rather an indictment on the time available in which to write about it.
The week after the last blog post felt like a genuine corner turned. Something clicked and for reason, for me, the kids were on side, on task and getting on with it. Despite trying to address the staff shortage issue, something worked for me in my classes...
I'm super pleased to say that since then, my relationship with my grade 9s has grown and grown. Despite grade 9 having such a bad rap as the really 'tough' year in high school, I think there is a difference for this cohort as the 'seniors' of the school. They ARE the big kids, and hence don't need to prove it. There is also a small advantage to the slightly older kids who have repeated a couple of years... they add that small core of maturity which you wouldn't get if the whole lot of them were 14. A few 16 year olds is actually working out well in this case.
But grade 8! Going into grade 8 feels like going into war. I drop my helmet, don my gas mask (in some cases, literally!! what are those kids eating?!?!) and venture forth ready for battle.
In the case of grade 8s, it feels like quite a few major factors are collaborating together. Our rooms are very long and narrow, and it feels like battling a dragon when you can only access the head. The classes are just that 3-kids too many too! Man, what a difference when a couple of them are absent! 33 I can manage. 36 is just over the tipping point. And you feel like a tennis ball between the back and the front of the classroom: you get the back to shush, and then the front starts up. The front is quiet, then the back starts. To be honest, on days when a troublemaker (and there's a critical mass of them!!!) is sleeping, I actually don't want to wake him/her up. I know I should. But can you blame me? It means the other 30 kids actually learn.
Also for me, grade 8s have somehow ended up later in the day. Man, you can set your watch by our kids' behaviour depending on the time of day. The first two lessons? Angelic, across the school (ok, almost angelic). After first break? Mmph, a bit rowdy, a couple of flare ups, but nothing a decent lesson plan and some routine can't sort out.
After second break? Good bloody luck to you. The Gizmos turn to Gremlins and it's just anarchy. And most of my grade 8 lessons are the last two of the day.
I thought it was just me. I thought I was missing something... but it turns out I'm not the only one who feels like this with Grade 8. I dread it. And of course, the kids detect this, the perceptive little $%£. I notice I find myself prioritising my Grade 9 planning, my grade 9 preparation. Which makes it worse of course.
The teacher voice in me says 'plan the crap out of them--blow them out the water with such an engaging lesson that they can't help but behave because they are too darn interested'. Easy to say unless you're on 5 hours sleep a night and working 80 hour weeks. Very easy to say. In situations like this, one can hardly be blamed for focusing on what works and picking the battles it feels like you might win.
The week before last was just hell. Something in the water? I don't know. Grade 8 were climbing the walls by 9am. What is it? Bad learning habits? Critical mass of students? Downward spiralling relationship? bad planning? Bad time of day? Combo? Probably. Either way, I need to find a way somehow of breaking out of this loop. It's like a really irritating record stuck on repeat and it's driving me mad.
My lousy grade 8 classes are enough to make me reflect on each day and dismiss it as a failure. My blood has boiled and I've had enough. Genoeg! KWANELE!
So here's the crux of today's post (I have so much else I could write about, specific or general, theoretical or practical: I'm just going with a brief update and one thought-for-the-blog)... focusing on positives. Small positives. Daily wins. Here are a few that are keeping me (and the others) ticking over:
-the students are starting to greet us in a genuine way instead of sarcastically. :)
-last week Thursday 6 students set up a couple of chairs in the courtyard and just started reading. They had borrowed some Roald Dahl from me, and some from the english teacher. Some had brought a book themselves to school. They sat in silence, propped up against each other, nose stuck in book, completely absorbed. It was awesome!!
-the choir did their first little song at assembly. They have improved so much in 4 weeks! 2 new very enthusiastic boys now want to sign up: they really enjoyed it that much.
-my grade 9s make me smile daily. I had the worst grade 8 lesson ever and then walking to my room next door to find they had, without being reminded, gone to fetch the brooms and cleaned my room.
-one grade 9 chased after me today to return a pencil I had lent him. Given how much of my stationery the grade 8s have been stealing, this melted my heart.
-one girl wrote in her journal that she 'is now no longer afraid of fractions and its so good'. :)
-we have books! Kind donations have started our library: we have 300+ books! It's great.
-one of my grade 9 boys who has such a naughty reputation got 70% in his maths test last week. Despite all the others' really bad marks, this really made me smile :)
--my grade 9s seem to genuinely enjoy maths. Like, really enjoy it. :) they are trying hard.
There are others. These are a few. Manna for my soul. Fuel for my tank. We're half way through term... let's see what the next 5 weeks bring. Right now my salvation is in small victories and my teapot or coffee thermos. Sterkte.
The week after the last blog post felt like a genuine corner turned. Something clicked and for reason, for me, the kids were on side, on task and getting on with it. Despite trying to address the staff shortage issue, something worked for me in my classes...
I'm super pleased to say that since then, my relationship with my grade 9s has grown and grown. Despite grade 9 having such a bad rap as the really 'tough' year in high school, I think there is a difference for this cohort as the 'seniors' of the school. They ARE the big kids, and hence don't need to prove it. There is also a small advantage to the slightly older kids who have repeated a couple of years... they add that small core of maturity which you wouldn't get if the whole lot of them were 14. A few 16 year olds is actually working out well in this case.
But grade 8! Going into grade 8 feels like going into war. I drop my helmet, don my gas mask (in some cases, literally!! what are those kids eating?!?!) and venture forth ready for battle.
In the case of grade 8s, it feels like quite a few major factors are collaborating together. Our rooms are very long and narrow, and it feels like battling a dragon when you can only access the head. The classes are just that 3-kids too many too! Man, what a difference when a couple of them are absent! 33 I can manage. 36 is just over the tipping point. And you feel like a tennis ball between the back and the front of the classroom: you get the back to shush, and then the front starts up. The front is quiet, then the back starts. To be honest, on days when a troublemaker (and there's a critical mass of them!!!) is sleeping, I actually don't want to wake him/her up. I know I should. But can you blame me? It means the other 30 kids actually learn.
Also for me, grade 8s have somehow ended up later in the day. Man, you can set your watch by our kids' behaviour depending on the time of day. The first two lessons? Angelic, across the school (ok, almost angelic). After first break? Mmph, a bit rowdy, a couple of flare ups, but nothing a decent lesson plan and some routine can't sort out.
After second break? Good bloody luck to you. The Gizmos turn to Gremlins and it's just anarchy. And most of my grade 8 lessons are the last two of the day.
I thought it was just me. I thought I was missing something... but it turns out I'm not the only one who feels like this with Grade 8. I dread it. And of course, the kids detect this, the perceptive little $%£. I notice I find myself prioritising my Grade 9 planning, my grade 9 preparation. Which makes it worse of course.
The teacher voice in me says 'plan the crap out of them--blow them out the water with such an engaging lesson that they can't help but behave because they are too darn interested'. Easy to say unless you're on 5 hours sleep a night and working 80 hour weeks. Very easy to say. In situations like this, one can hardly be blamed for focusing on what works and picking the battles it feels like you might win.
The week before last was just hell. Something in the water? I don't know. Grade 8 were climbing the walls by 9am. What is it? Bad learning habits? Critical mass of students? Downward spiralling relationship? bad planning? Bad time of day? Combo? Probably. Either way, I need to find a way somehow of breaking out of this loop. It's like a really irritating record stuck on repeat and it's driving me mad.
My lousy grade 8 classes are enough to make me reflect on each day and dismiss it as a failure. My blood has boiled and I've had enough. Genoeg! KWANELE!
So here's the crux of today's post (I have so much else I could write about, specific or general, theoretical or practical: I'm just going with a brief update and one thought-for-the-blog)... focusing on positives. Small positives. Daily wins. Here are a few that are keeping me (and the others) ticking over:
-the students are starting to greet us in a genuine way instead of sarcastically. :)
-last week Thursday 6 students set up a couple of chairs in the courtyard and just started reading. They had borrowed some Roald Dahl from me, and some from the english teacher. Some had brought a book themselves to school. They sat in silence, propped up against each other, nose stuck in book, completely absorbed. It was awesome!!
-the choir did their first little song at assembly. They have improved so much in 4 weeks! 2 new very enthusiastic boys now want to sign up: they really enjoyed it that much.
-my grade 9s make me smile daily. I had the worst grade 8 lesson ever and then walking to my room next door to find they had, without being reminded, gone to fetch the brooms and cleaned my room.
-one grade 9 chased after me today to return a pencil I had lent him. Given how much of my stationery the grade 8s have been stealing, this melted my heart.
-one girl wrote in her journal that she 'is now no longer afraid of fractions and its so good'. :)
-we have books! Kind donations have started our library: we have 300+ books! It's great.
-one of my grade 9 boys who has such a naughty reputation got 70% in his maths test last week. Despite all the others' really bad marks, this really made me smile :)
--my grade 9s seem to genuinely enjoy maths. Like, really enjoy it. :) they are trying hard.
There are others. These are a few. Manna for my soul. Fuel for my tank. We're half way through term... let's see what the next 5 weeks bring. Right now my salvation is in small victories and my teapot or coffee thermos. Sterkte.
Thursday, 7 February 2013
Reflections on chatting with some colleagues and friends about my job
It's been a while. Time for a blog post :)
About 2 weeks have passed since the last post. They have revealed that raw space where you really think you don't have anything more to give... that place when you find out if your convictions can take you forward or whether you'll cave in.
It's no one particular thing. In fact, overall, no one thing is particularly bad. It's rather the accumulation of many, many, many small things, unrelentless, crashing against you daily as the sea does rocks. We know that the sea wins eventually. Mostly it's the lack of sleep--that always makes everything feel much worse than it really is. You hear your own voice getting cross with kids who just won't shut up and realise how you're becoming that unpleasant shouty teacher because you're too tired to implement effective behaviour management. Bleh. The One Thing guaranteed to make you cave is sleep deprivation.
One teacher has decided to go--he has not come back.That's put the rest of us in a pickle as we have had to scramble for someone to take his classes. We had one unattended class when he was absent without notice; with that one chaotic unattended class the whole school environment felt like a 'typical township' school: loud and uncontrolled, kids running around yelling. That afternoon did not feel good... we felt like we were sliding backwards.
For some reason yesterday felt like a breakthrough point--that despite the tiredness and the daily battle to keep good order when the class next door erupts into a cacophony (in my last lesson there was a brawl in the classroom diagonally opposite with the usual chaos of a full on fight :P). It was a good breakthrough point: not the "I don't care" beaten point, but an "ah well, let's get on with it then" point.
Tonight I was kindly invited to share some thoughts and experiences of opening the school and was asked to provide a title for the evening. I chose the title "Doing things Differently"... and then during the entire discussion I didn't get to talking about exactly what it is we are trying to do differently! Although I felt like I only told the story as it was--honestly and factually--I realised by the end of the evening that everything had sounded hopelessly negative. What was a factual account of the status quo reflected the bleak landscape that our education system has become. As things currently stand, I am far too immersed in my daily local interactions to pick my head up over the parapet and see things at the system level. I won't apologise for that at this point: I think it's understandable to focus on the daily immediate stuff at this stage. Perhaps in a few months time when the school feels more established I'll look more holistically at a system level, but for now focusing on the daily bread and butter issues is understandable.
I think sounding negative is also justifiable, if not entirely healthy. So sorry to those folks who listened to me problematize the education system (or shoot down their suggestions), although I'll stand by my answers as accurate. After all, we can't start to find solutions that will work if we don't understand the inter-related complexity of the problem. Ignoring the reasons why solutions won't work doesn't make them work after all.
But let me lay out here why I chose to call the evening "doing things differently". I still believe that we are doing things differently at our new school. Here's a few ways how:
--we're still looking for the potential in the kids instead of the problems. We're still holding the perspective that punishment and sanctions are not to be implemented blindly.
--we're doing our best not to forget those quiet kids who get drowned out by the bad behaviour. For my own part, I know almost all the names now. It's made a huge difference. In fact, that is one way in which we are doing things differently to the norm (sadly, it is the norm-in most schools, the teachers don't know the kids by name).
--we home-visit. We go to the kids homes and see where they live, meet them and their families in a different environment. Home-visits haven't stepped up proper yet but we do them. That's different.
--we're looking for the resources to create experiences and opportunities for our kids that they wouldn't normally access. This is important to us.
--we're not giving up.
yes, that's different. Very different. 90% of the dysfunctionality in public schools is when (understandably) people have given up. We're not giving up. Despite 2 laptops getting stolen, we're not giving up. Despite the kids who do not understand the idea of not hitting each other, we're not giving up. Despite how truly awful that lesson after second break feels when the sun is baking us all like sardines in our tin-can-classrooms...we're not giving up. Despite some of us still waiting for our paychecks, we're still not giving up. Yes, the silly things like the fact that we still don't have rulers (! arbitrary to everyone except a maths teacher!!), or that we can't have a photocopier that does collation and double-sided (apparently we aren't a big enough school to warrant saving time or paper)... those little things feel big on top of everything else. We're still working with porta-loos, and we need to bolt everything to the floor to stop it going walking... we're one man short and I've got to mark an extra 200 tests over the weekend on top of the other 100 homeworks and 60 books and feel like crying...
but I'm not giving up.
At least not yet.
About 2 weeks have passed since the last post. They have revealed that raw space where you really think you don't have anything more to give... that place when you find out if your convictions can take you forward or whether you'll cave in.
It's no one particular thing. In fact, overall, no one thing is particularly bad. It's rather the accumulation of many, many, many small things, unrelentless, crashing against you daily as the sea does rocks. We know that the sea wins eventually. Mostly it's the lack of sleep--that always makes everything feel much worse than it really is. You hear your own voice getting cross with kids who just won't shut up and realise how you're becoming that unpleasant shouty teacher because you're too tired to implement effective behaviour management. Bleh. The One Thing guaranteed to make you cave is sleep deprivation.
One teacher has decided to go--he has not come back.That's put the rest of us in a pickle as we have had to scramble for someone to take his classes. We had one unattended class when he was absent without notice; with that one chaotic unattended class the whole school environment felt like a 'typical township' school: loud and uncontrolled, kids running around yelling. That afternoon did not feel good... we felt like we were sliding backwards.
For some reason yesterday felt like a breakthrough point--that despite the tiredness and the daily battle to keep good order when the class next door erupts into a cacophony (in my last lesson there was a brawl in the classroom diagonally opposite with the usual chaos of a full on fight :P). It was a good breakthrough point: not the "I don't care" beaten point, but an "ah well, let's get on with it then" point.
Tonight I was kindly invited to share some thoughts and experiences of opening the school and was asked to provide a title for the evening. I chose the title "Doing things Differently"... and then during the entire discussion I didn't get to talking about exactly what it is we are trying to do differently! Although I felt like I only told the story as it was--honestly and factually--I realised by the end of the evening that everything had sounded hopelessly negative. What was a factual account of the status quo reflected the bleak landscape that our education system has become. As things currently stand, I am far too immersed in my daily local interactions to pick my head up over the parapet and see things at the system level. I won't apologise for that at this point: I think it's understandable to focus on the daily immediate stuff at this stage. Perhaps in a few months time when the school feels more established I'll look more holistically at a system level, but for now focusing on the daily bread and butter issues is understandable.
I think sounding negative is also justifiable, if not entirely healthy. So sorry to those folks who listened to me problematize the education system (or shoot down their suggestions), although I'll stand by my answers as accurate. After all, we can't start to find solutions that will work if we don't understand the inter-related complexity of the problem. Ignoring the reasons why solutions won't work doesn't make them work after all.
But let me lay out here why I chose to call the evening "doing things differently". I still believe that we are doing things differently at our new school. Here's a few ways how:
--we're still looking for the potential in the kids instead of the problems. We're still holding the perspective that punishment and sanctions are not to be implemented blindly.
--we're doing our best not to forget those quiet kids who get drowned out by the bad behaviour. For my own part, I know almost all the names now. It's made a huge difference. In fact, that is one way in which we are doing things differently to the norm (sadly, it is the norm-in most schools, the teachers don't know the kids by name).
--we home-visit. We go to the kids homes and see where they live, meet them and their families in a different environment. Home-visits haven't stepped up proper yet but we do them. That's different.
--we're looking for the resources to create experiences and opportunities for our kids that they wouldn't normally access. This is important to us.
--we're not giving up.
yes, that's different. Very different. 90% of the dysfunctionality in public schools is when (understandably) people have given up. We're not giving up. Despite 2 laptops getting stolen, we're not giving up. Despite the kids who do not understand the idea of not hitting each other, we're not giving up. Despite how truly awful that lesson after second break feels when the sun is baking us all like sardines in our tin-can-classrooms...we're not giving up. Despite some of us still waiting for our paychecks, we're still not giving up. Yes, the silly things like the fact that we still don't have rulers (! arbitrary to everyone except a maths teacher!!), or that we can't have a photocopier that does collation and double-sided (apparently we aren't a big enough school to warrant saving time or paper)... those little things feel big on top of everything else. We're still working with porta-loos, and we need to bolt everything to the floor to stop it going walking... we're one man short and I've got to mark an extra 200 tests over the weekend on top of the other 100 homeworks and 60 books and feel like crying...
but I'm not giving up.
At least not yet.
Tuesday, 29 January 2013
Now the real battle begins.
A brief update between piles of tests being marked...
Pushing the envelope: BIG time
Ah, the novelty has worn off. The whole 'ooh new school' feeling has been replaced by 'what?!? homework?!? f£$k th@£ sh!£" feeling and the kids are pushing back BIG time. It really does feel like sitting on a suitcase with the most obnoxious troll inside... we've just got to sit tight and make sure we don't let up the pressure. Which is rough. Especially when you're beyond tired. I've let a couple students slide already this week who I need to mop up tomorrow and Thursday--they think they've gotten away. Ha! Not so fast.
Lists.
I love lists. Nay, ADORE lists. My life is just one big long list of lists which is constantly shifting and updating all the time. One day I might be able to make head or tail of them. But for now, at least, I know each student is on a list. Somewhere.
First home visit
Went to chat with a mum today... she came to see me at the school and she was on crutches! So I gave her a lift home and we chatted in her living room about her children who are both at the school. A great lady--keen to support, offered to take a phone call any time. So a positive. Especially after some of the other difficulties in contacting or meeting parents.
The picture swims into focus
I'm finally starting to see what I'm working with here after marking part of the avalanche of diagnostic tests last week. Bleak, dire, despair... um, no still not finding the right word. I don't know how these kids have been allowed to continue like this for so long without having their learning deficits addressed. And it's not like they couldn't do it--they are not stupid. A travesty. Yes, that's what it is. A travesty. Of the worst kind. I still haven't manned up to the task that lies ahead for the rest of the year. I'm still living by da river dey call DeNial. It's ok, for now my sanity lies there. But I'm going to have to take a deep breath and plunge soon into the seriously hectic remedial programs. Right after I have developed them.
That's it for now: the initial 'whoop whoop-new school' feeling has worn off rather quickly. We're now fighting against the slide into the 'look-the-other-way-because-I-can't-handle-this' approach that happens in most SA public schools: we're now fighting for the school we really want. We've got a helluva fight on our hands.
Pushing the envelope: BIG time
Ah, the novelty has worn off. The whole 'ooh new school' feeling has been replaced by 'what?!? homework?!? f£$k th@£ sh!£" feeling and the kids are pushing back BIG time. It really does feel like sitting on a suitcase with the most obnoxious troll inside... we've just got to sit tight and make sure we don't let up the pressure. Which is rough. Especially when you're beyond tired. I've let a couple students slide already this week who I need to mop up tomorrow and Thursday--they think they've gotten away. Ha! Not so fast.
Lists.
I love lists. Nay, ADORE lists. My life is just one big long list of lists which is constantly shifting and updating all the time. One day I might be able to make head or tail of them. But for now, at least, I know each student is on a list. Somewhere.
First home visit
Went to chat with a mum today... she came to see me at the school and she was on crutches! So I gave her a lift home and we chatted in her living room about her children who are both at the school. A great lady--keen to support, offered to take a phone call any time. So a positive. Especially after some of the other difficulties in contacting or meeting parents.
The picture swims into focus
I'm finally starting to see what I'm working with here after marking part of the avalanche of diagnostic tests last week. Bleak, dire, despair... um, no still not finding the right word. I don't know how these kids have been allowed to continue like this for so long without having their learning deficits addressed. And it's not like they couldn't do it--they are not stupid. A travesty. Yes, that's what it is. A travesty. Of the worst kind. I still haven't manned up to the task that lies ahead for the rest of the year. I'm still living by da river dey call DeNial. It's ok, for now my sanity lies there. But I'm going to have to take a deep breath and plunge soon into the seriously hectic remedial programs. Right after I have developed them.
That's it for now: the initial 'whoop whoop-new school' feeling has worn off rather quickly. We're now fighting against the slide into the 'look-the-other-way-because-I-can't-handle-this' approach that happens in most SA public schools: we're now fighting for the school we really want. We've got a helluva fight on our hands.
Sunday, 27 January 2013
10 days like no other
Apologies for such a long hiatus since the last post. To say the start of school has been crazy must be the understatement of the millenium. Here's a breakdown of what's happened since we opened the doors of the school 2 Wednesday's ago... it's about 3 blogs in one.
Deliveries
So, it's the eve of the opening of the school and finally the desk delivery rocks up... 40 desks short. Safe to say the idea of opening the school to a community, to whom we've been desperately selling the idea that this school is going to be different, without enough desks is NOT appealing. The only thing that's saved our goose is that no where near a full contingent of students actually rocked up on the first day. Despite a whacking long waiting list of students who want to get in, there's definitely an existing expectation for schools like ours that things only kinda start to get moving in the first few days of term (I've mentioned that having a timetable before the start of the school year was considered exceptional). In my own class of 30 I only had about 22 on Day 1. Good thing in hindsight, as we didn't have enough desks for all of them! Fortunately the remainder were delivered in the first day of term.
We finally got a photocopier this week Tuesday, 4 days into term. Working without a photocopier or printer was really hard, especially since I needed to administrate extensive diagnostic tests in the first full week of term (I have no idea what I'm working with!). Last Sunday involved R400 spent at UCT on photocopying (this after a trip to an internet cafe because UCT printers weren't working). On the Monday I still had to bolt down to the local postnet at lunch time and blow a further R400 to copy the last of the tests I needed for that afternoon since I'd maxed out my credit at UCT. The photocopier we finally got on Tuesday jams on every 3rd page--no fun when you need to make 300 copies of a 5 page document. It's time-consuming frustrations like this that have contributed to the absolute exhaustion in the first week for me and the other staff.
Candle at Both Ends
Within 5 days of actual school, the staff started comparing how much weight we'd all lost through sheer lack of opportunity to eat. The max came in at about 3.5kg in a week. Most staff were still sending emails flying at 1am in the morning for planning and coordinating activities and lessons, so the average sleep was pitching at around 5 hours a night for everyone. We'd meet up again at 7am the next morning to tackle the day. As for me, I'm struggling to find clothes that don't hang off me in a really unpleasant baggy way. I've worn out 2 pairs of shoes in 8 days in the dust and dirt of the school site, being on my feet all day.
But I've managed to squeeze in one run and a cycle in two weeks. By Wednesday I was feeling desperate and unable to continue--I parked the pile of work I had and put on my running shoes. All of a sudden, my head cleared and I could think straight. A solid run put me back on track again, getting rid of the stress and allowing me to sleep properly.
But I'd recommend starting a school as a sure-fire weightloss strategy.
Breaks have been spent running around doing photocopies, trying to shepherd students into staying in the school grounds when the gate wasn't closed (more on this later), keeping students in who wasted time settling down between lessons or didn't do their homework and generally enforcing the strict lines drawn in the school code-of-conduct. We've literally laid down the riot act. And it's been extensively time consuming and exhausting. Last Friday I drove past a good friend's place of work on the way home and popped in to say hi. She asked me how I was and I just burst into tears. I fell asleep at 8pm after a stiff drink. At the moment, a stiff drink seems to be the guarantee of sleeping peacefully without frequent interruption. A habit I do not intend to indulge.
The Riot Act
Ok, it really felt like I did nothing but read the riot act to my mentor group for the first day. I confess, despite my misgivings expressed in the previous blog post on punishment, I went in strong. Not punishing, but certainly drawing very firm lines. Again, it's become clear in the first week and a half of school that my students often (not all!!) lack any form of structure in their lives: things ebb and flow unpredictably and almost anything goes. So this is a new experience for them--coming to school on time, wearing uniform correctly, not sticking gum all over the floors, teachers starting lessons on time, homework being checked and consequences for not doing it... I've not felt I have any room to be anything but very firm on these things. Apparently I've gotten a bit of a reputation in the first 8 days of school. Can't say I'm too cracked up about it. It's maintaining my sanity.
Honey pot
We anticipated a lot of the problems and pre-empted them. We made the expectations clear from the front and, on the whole, the students responded well to them.
What we didn't anticipate was how quickly the school would become a honey pot to nefarious influences from outside our boundaries. On the first day of lessons at first break, the gate at the top was still unlocked and, despite a permanent security presence, a gang of rather unpleasant young men swarmed into the school and strutted around haranguing our students as they pleased. Even during lesson time, I came across a student waiting outside a class to speak to a teacher and he'd been found by 2 of these guys... one on each shoulder like the angel and devil scene so common in cartoons. This kid looked like he wanted the ground to swallow him whole with these 2 tsotsis pinning him between them like a sandwich. I told them to get off school property with threats of police and we have tightened up security big time, but even on Tuesday last week I still saw a guy hanging around the edge of the playground: having scaled the fence he was looking to push drugs to our students and bolted as soon as he saw me. He came back twice to see if I was gone (which I wasn't--I was on playground duty). But the threat is there.
We've also been picking up the tell-tale signs of our students being involved in gang activity: graffiti in the boys toilets between rival gangs proliferated within 3 days of school opening, resulting in us locking the boys toilets and making the boys use the porta-loos set up in the playground. I've also caught boys 'tattooing' their gang names and symbols on themselves in class with ballpoint pens, and drawings in their books which are truly disturbing. Again, the threat is there... it is going to take a long time to get these boys feeling safe and thinking that there are alternatives places for affirmation without being part of gangs. Keeping them in school for most of the day and keeping the tsotsis out will be key. But it's going to take a while.
Theft on campus
Unfortunately we've already had a teacher's laptop stolen on Tuesday. The police were called in but the bluff was called and the students stayed schtoom. The incident just reaffirmed my conviction that I was not bringing personal things of great value to school--it's very easy to forget where we are. So no handbag, no credit card, a cheap phone and a cheap watch. At worst I will lose my house keys which will piss me off. Otherwise, they can take the lot. I've nothing with me that I'm particularly attached to.
Violence
Another thing we anticipated but just weren't emotionally prepared for was how violent the students are towards each other. Kicking and hitting each other at the slightest dispute is standard--who knows what kind of behaviour they have witnessed and become immersed in that this level of violence is the order of the day. I have had to intervene in several incidents of minor violence and one student was extracted from class on Friday for pummelling another for a verbal sleight. The firm boundaries are going to be key to stamping this out, along with the constant drawing on the code of conduct which we are trying to ground in values--respect, care and honesty. Here's hoping that driving the message home calmly, firmly and consistently will work.
We've seen a massive improvement in behaviour in only 8 days of school in terms of punctuality, attendance, uniform, quick transition between classes, staying within school bounds and not disrupting class. Here's hoping we can get the message into student-to-student interactions too.
Tests
I have tested the crap out of these poor kids this last week. Most have not provided report cards from their prior schools, and for those who have, their maths scores are regularly below 40%. I've literally just finished marking the first set of tests for my grade 9s and the results are beyond depressing--some are struggling with the very basics. I feel angry and dismayed: what have their previous teachers been doing for the last 8 years of their education? How can they have been lied to like this for so long?
The test in question is a base-line grade 8 test intended to allow us to draw a base line for new arrivals to high school. The grade nines are not really scoring above 30% on a grade eight test. Issues such as place value, where decimal commas go, number bonds, multiplication tables and Cartesian coordinates are coming up frequently. I haven't even begun to try and assess where language is causing the problem. Oh well-- I suppose it will be difficult to go anywhere but up from here. But it really is truly, terribly disturbing.
Choir
I have always had a fantasy about organising and conducting a choir of kids for whom singing is as much of a joy and pleasure as it is for me: kids who burst into song spontaneously with gusto and vibrance. Well, that time has come. And it is beyond anything I could've imagined... I get slightly high when the kids sing.
At the first choir practice, the kids asked if they could sing an isiXhosa song. I told them I'd be very disappointed if they didn't!!! They launched into some fabulous songs--simple, repeated refrains with slightly asynchronic timing and loose harmonies... but always beautiful, even if rough and unpolished, it was raw and heartfelt. I taught them a 3 part song we created in reading club which is an appeal to parents to read to their children at home: the lyrics of the altos repeat over and over "Funda, sifuna ukufunda, sifuna ukufunda nani nonke" (Learn, we want to read, we want to read with you all).
The next day in assembly, this was the song the kids chose to sing at the principal's request that they sing a song (assembly will always involve singing). The choir turned around and indicated I should mouth the words to the rest of the school who didn't know it. I haven't been advertising too loudly that I speak some isiXhosa to the students so the shock on their faces was, I have to say, pretty cool. The hall roof lifted with the song from reading club--it was ethereal.
Speaking isiXhosa
As mentioned, I havent been shouting from the rooftops that I speak some isiXhosa, for a few reasons. Firstly, I'm rusty, and I don't want to embarrass myself. Secondly, as soon as students discover I speak isiXhosa, they only speak to me in isiXhosa and trying to 'charm me over' if you like "oh miss, please give me my phone" (I've confiscated at least 10 so far. Other tallies include about 13 pairs of earrings and 5 hats).. "oh miss, you look so pretty today"... conversations that are appropriate for peers, but not between students and teachers.
Thirdly, it's a bit underhanded, but it gives me a trump card that the students are not expecting. For example, one student started making comments to his friend about the shape of my backside. He did not expect to be pulled aside and blasted in isiXhosa about respecting his teachers and respecting women. It was very effective. He has been far better since, and yet has come to talk to me in a respectful but appreciative way. The relationship was set straight with that one conversation--I understand you and I insist that if you want me to respect you, you must respect me. End of.
That said, we've been trying to translate our code of conduct and letters to parents into isiXhosa. I'm still wrestling with how I will try to implement the multilingualism I believe in in my lessons and my school practice, and how I will find the time and resources to do this on top of all the demands that simply teaching requires in general. I do slip in a few phrases when trying to bring the kids round, or to lighten things up a bit. But I'm not claiming any kind of fluency and certainly am not wanting to give the impression of fluency either.
Parents
We had our first parents' meeting yesterday morning. Due to start at 9am, we were all a little crestfallen at the start when we had maybe 20 parents at most. The principal showed his experience and tact in how he discussed the vision of the school and our expectations of the students, drawing the parents in as partners in this project most dexterously. But a low turn-out meant that for all his skill and diplomacy, his words would only reach the converted.
By 9:30, however, the hall was full. The teachers yielded their seats to make more space for the steady trickle of people coming through the doors to hear our message and give their thoughts on what we are trying to do with the school.
By 10, there was barely standing room.
Thrilled! We're just thrilled. We never anticipated such a turn-out!! And, if initially the parents were thinking 'mm, this all sounds a bit strict', a few vocal community members took the opportunity when it came for an open-floor conversation and really let rip into how if they didn't take this opportunity and didn't support the good work the school was doing, then the kids would be lost and how we must do it for the kids. Slowly the agreement started to build, until there was resounded unanimity behind the movement. We couldn't have hoped for better. All of a sudden, this feels more than possible. This feels probable.
So we stand on the cusp of our second full week of school. I know about 80% of the names of my kids which is proving immensely helpful, and am keeping notes in a slightly OCD way on each child's character, learning and behaviour: good and bad. I probably won't be able to keep up this level of attention but I'm hoping after a couple more weeks I won't need to: things will settle into a rhythm and I'll know the kids better as they will me. The classes of 36 are tough on this front but I think they are capped at that number (thank goodness! more on my feelings about recent debates in the newspapers about admissions policies and class sizes in another blog).
Here we go: week 2!! A plan is in place, the data is there to be analyzed and used to develop strategies (read that as "I have a shitload of marking to do"). I've been asked to join the school's senior management team, a duty which will start in earnest next week. More coming soon.
Deliveries
So, it's the eve of the opening of the school and finally the desk delivery rocks up... 40 desks short. Safe to say the idea of opening the school to a community, to whom we've been desperately selling the idea that this school is going to be different, without enough desks is NOT appealing. The only thing that's saved our goose is that no where near a full contingent of students actually rocked up on the first day. Despite a whacking long waiting list of students who want to get in, there's definitely an existing expectation for schools like ours that things only kinda start to get moving in the first few days of term (I've mentioned that having a timetable before the start of the school year was considered exceptional). In my own class of 30 I only had about 22 on Day 1. Good thing in hindsight, as we didn't have enough desks for all of them! Fortunately the remainder were delivered in the first day of term.
We finally got a photocopier this week Tuesday, 4 days into term. Working without a photocopier or printer was really hard, especially since I needed to administrate extensive diagnostic tests in the first full week of term (I have no idea what I'm working with!). Last Sunday involved R400 spent at UCT on photocopying (this after a trip to an internet cafe because UCT printers weren't working). On the Monday I still had to bolt down to the local postnet at lunch time and blow a further R400 to copy the last of the tests I needed for that afternoon since I'd maxed out my credit at UCT. The photocopier we finally got on Tuesday jams on every 3rd page--no fun when you need to make 300 copies of a 5 page document. It's time-consuming frustrations like this that have contributed to the absolute exhaustion in the first week for me and the other staff.
Candle at Both Ends
Within 5 days of actual school, the staff started comparing how much weight we'd all lost through sheer lack of opportunity to eat. The max came in at about 3.5kg in a week. Most staff were still sending emails flying at 1am in the morning for planning and coordinating activities and lessons, so the average sleep was pitching at around 5 hours a night for everyone. We'd meet up again at 7am the next morning to tackle the day. As for me, I'm struggling to find clothes that don't hang off me in a really unpleasant baggy way. I've worn out 2 pairs of shoes in 8 days in the dust and dirt of the school site, being on my feet all day.
But I've managed to squeeze in one run and a cycle in two weeks. By Wednesday I was feeling desperate and unable to continue--I parked the pile of work I had and put on my running shoes. All of a sudden, my head cleared and I could think straight. A solid run put me back on track again, getting rid of the stress and allowing me to sleep properly.
But I'd recommend starting a school as a sure-fire weightloss strategy.
Breaks have been spent running around doing photocopies, trying to shepherd students into staying in the school grounds when the gate wasn't closed (more on this later), keeping students in who wasted time settling down between lessons or didn't do their homework and generally enforcing the strict lines drawn in the school code-of-conduct. We've literally laid down the riot act. And it's been extensively time consuming and exhausting. Last Friday I drove past a good friend's place of work on the way home and popped in to say hi. She asked me how I was and I just burst into tears. I fell asleep at 8pm after a stiff drink. At the moment, a stiff drink seems to be the guarantee of sleeping peacefully without frequent interruption. A habit I do not intend to indulge.
The Riot Act
Ok, it really felt like I did nothing but read the riot act to my mentor group for the first day. I confess, despite my misgivings expressed in the previous blog post on punishment, I went in strong. Not punishing, but certainly drawing very firm lines. Again, it's become clear in the first week and a half of school that my students often (not all!!) lack any form of structure in their lives: things ebb and flow unpredictably and almost anything goes. So this is a new experience for them--coming to school on time, wearing uniform correctly, not sticking gum all over the floors, teachers starting lessons on time, homework being checked and consequences for not doing it... I've not felt I have any room to be anything but very firm on these things. Apparently I've gotten a bit of a reputation in the first 8 days of school. Can't say I'm too cracked up about it. It's maintaining my sanity.
Honey pot
We anticipated a lot of the problems and pre-empted them. We made the expectations clear from the front and, on the whole, the students responded well to them.
What we didn't anticipate was how quickly the school would become a honey pot to nefarious influences from outside our boundaries. On the first day of lessons at first break, the gate at the top was still unlocked and, despite a permanent security presence, a gang of rather unpleasant young men swarmed into the school and strutted around haranguing our students as they pleased. Even during lesson time, I came across a student waiting outside a class to speak to a teacher and he'd been found by 2 of these guys... one on each shoulder like the angel and devil scene so common in cartoons. This kid looked like he wanted the ground to swallow him whole with these 2 tsotsis pinning him between them like a sandwich. I told them to get off school property with threats of police and we have tightened up security big time, but even on Tuesday last week I still saw a guy hanging around the edge of the playground: having scaled the fence he was looking to push drugs to our students and bolted as soon as he saw me. He came back twice to see if I was gone (which I wasn't--I was on playground duty). But the threat is there.
We've also been picking up the tell-tale signs of our students being involved in gang activity: graffiti in the boys toilets between rival gangs proliferated within 3 days of school opening, resulting in us locking the boys toilets and making the boys use the porta-loos set up in the playground. I've also caught boys 'tattooing' their gang names and symbols on themselves in class with ballpoint pens, and drawings in their books which are truly disturbing. Again, the threat is there... it is going to take a long time to get these boys feeling safe and thinking that there are alternatives places for affirmation without being part of gangs. Keeping them in school for most of the day and keeping the tsotsis out will be key. But it's going to take a while.
Theft on campus
Unfortunately we've already had a teacher's laptop stolen on Tuesday. The police were called in but the bluff was called and the students stayed schtoom. The incident just reaffirmed my conviction that I was not bringing personal things of great value to school--it's very easy to forget where we are. So no handbag, no credit card, a cheap phone and a cheap watch. At worst I will lose my house keys which will piss me off. Otherwise, they can take the lot. I've nothing with me that I'm particularly attached to.
Violence
Another thing we anticipated but just weren't emotionally prepared for was how violent the students are towards each other. Kicking and hitting each other at the slightest dispute is standard--who knows what kind of behaviour they have witnessed and become immersed in that this level of violence is the order of the day. I have had to intervene in several incidents of minor violence and one student was extracted from class on Friday for pummelling another for a verbal sleight. The firm boundaries are going to be key to stamping this out, along with the constant drawing on the code of conduct which we are trying to ground in values--respect, care and honesty. Here's hoping that driving the message home calmly, firmly and consistently will work.
We've seen a massive improvement in behaviour in only 8 days of school in terms of punctuality, attendance, uniform, quick transition between classes, staying within school bounds and not disrupting class. Here's hoping we can get the message into student-to-student interactions too.
Tests
I have tested the crap out of these poor kids this last week. Most have not provided report cards from their prior schools, and for those who have, their maths scores are regularly below 40%. I've literally just finished marking the first set of tests for my grade 9s and the results are beyond depressing--some are struggling with the very basics. I feel angry and dismayed: what have their previous teachers been doing for the last 8 years of their education? How can they have been lied to like this for so long?
The test in question is a base-line grade 8 test intended to allow us to draw a base line for new arrivals to high school. The grade nines are not really scoring above 30% on a grade eight test. Issues such as place value, where decimal commas go, number bonds, multiplication tables and Cartesian coordinates are coming up frequently. I haven't even begun to try and assess where language is causing the problem. Oh well-- I suppose it will be difficult to go anywhere but up from here. But it really is truly, terribly disturbing.
Choir
I have always had a fantasy about organising and conducting a choir of kids for whom singing is as much of a joy and pleasure as it is for me: kids who burst into song spontaneously with gusto and vibrance. Well, that time has come. And it is beyond anything I could've imagined... I get slightly high when the kids sing.
At the first choir practice, the kids asked if they could sing an isiXhosa song. I told them I'd be very disappointed if they didn't!!! They launched into some fabulous songs--simple, repeated refrains with slightly asynchronic timing and loose harmonies... but always beautiful, even if rough and unpolished, it was raw and heartfelt. I taught them a 3 part song we created in reading club which is an appeal to parents to read to their children at home: the lyrics of the altos repeat over and over "Funda, sifuna ukufunda, sifuna ukufunda nani nonke" (Learn, we want to read, we want to read with you all).
The next day in assembly, this was the song the kids chose to sing at the principal's request that they sing a song (assembly will always involve singing). The choir turned around and indicated I should mouth the words to the rest of the school who didn't know it. I haven't been advertising too loudly that I speak some isiXhosa to the students so the shock on their faces was, I have to say, pretty cool. The hall roof lifted with the song from reading club--it was ethereal.
Speaking isiXhosa
As mentioned, I havent been shouting from the rooftops that I speak some isiXhosa, for a few reasons. Firstly, I'm rusty, and I don't want to embarrass myself. Secondly, as soon as students discover I speak isiXhosa, they only speak to me in isiXhosa and trying to 'charm me over' if you like "oh miss, please give me my phone" (I've confiscated at least 10 so far. Other tallies include about 13 pairs of earrings and 5 hats).. "oh miss, you look so pretty today"... conversations that are appropriate for peers, but not between students and teachers.
Thirdly, it's a bit underhanded, but it gives me a trump card that the students are not expecting. For example, one student started making comments to his friend about the shape of my backside. He did not expect to be pulled aside and blasted in isiXhosa about respecting his teachers and respecting women. It was very effective. He has been far better since, and yet has come to talk to me in a respectful but appreciative way. The relationship was set straight with that one conversation--I understand you and I insist that if you want me to respect you, you must respect me. End of.
That said, we've been trying to translate our code of conduct and letters to parents into isiXhosa. I'm still wrestling with how I will try to implement the multilingualism I believe in in my lessons and my school practice, and how I will find the time and resources to do this on top of all the demands that simply teaching requires in general. I do slip in a few phrases when trying to bring the kids round, or to lighten things up a bit. But I'm not claiming any kind of fluency and certainly am not wanting to give the impression of fluency either.
Parents
We had our first parents' meeting yesterday morning. Due to start at 9am, we were all a little crestfallen at the start when we had maybe 20 parents at most. The principal showed his experience and tact in how he discussed the vision of the school and our expectations of the students, drawing the parents in as partners in this project most dexterously. But a low turn-out meant that for all his skill and diplomacy, his words would only reach the converted.
By 9:30, however, the hall was full. The teachers yielded their seats to make more space for the steady trickle of people coming through the doors to hear our message and give their thoughts on what we are trying to do with the school.
By 10, there was barely standing room.
Thrilled! We're just thrilled. We never anticipated such a turn-out!! And, if initially the parents were thinking 'mm, this all sounds a bit strict', a few vocal community members took the opportunity when it came for an open-floor conversation and really let rip into how if they didn't take this opportunity and didn't support the good work the school was doing, then the kids would be lost and how we must do it for the kids. Slowly the agreement started to build, until there was resounded unanimity behind the movement. We couldn't have hoped for better. All of a sudden, this feels more than possible. This feels probable.
So we stand on the cusp of our second full week of school. I know about 80% of the names of my kids which is proving immensely helpful, and am keeping notes in a slightly OCD way on each child's character, learning and behaviour: good and bad. I probably won't be able to keep up this level of attention but I'm hoping after a couple more weeks I won't need to: things will settle into a rhythm and I'll know the kids better as they will me. The classes of 36 are tough on this front but I think they are capped at that number (thank goodness! more on my feelings about recent debates in the newspapers about admissions policies and class sizes in another blog).
Here we go: week 2!! A plan is in place, the data is there to be analyzed and used to develop strategies (read that as "I have a shitload of marking to do"). I've been asked to join the school's senior management team, a duty which will start in earnest next week. More coming soon.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)