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.
Monday, 25 February 2013
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.
Friday, 11 January 2013
Bolt from the blue.
This sh!t just got real folks.
So we started 'unofficially' with staff yesterday. After about 100 hours doing the timetable and dispairing at the fact that we can only fit half the kids in half the classes (an interesting timetabling constraint!!) i finally made peace with the bits I didn't like and presented it to my colleagues today. To say it was a relief is a massive understatement! And, much to my comfort, they were very understanding about the nature of timetables. Some were quite complimentary actually. Apparently having a timetable in place before the kids arrive is rather unusual in SA public education. Now ain't that an indictment...
We are 9. 10 with the HT. 11 with the admin lady. We're in 7 classrooms of welded-together crates, painted in some nice bright colours, with a separate hall which is a bit of a schlep up the hill: 8 classes running in total all the time, 4 per grade. At least we get a little bit of downtime... at any one point, one member of staff is not teaching. I've learned in the last week that that too is a luxury in SA education where there is no such thing as protected planning/preparation time. Me? I'm teaching 25 hours a week.
There are 2 'sites': a site within a site if you like. The first is the small area where we'll all be working, fenced off and alarmed (!). The level of security makes me feel uneasy and relaxed at the same time. On the one hand one does not want to feel like you're in a prison. On the other, you need to be realistic about where you're working. Being naive or blase will not help anyone.
The hall is outside this, but otherwise it is access controlled and we park inside. The larger 'site' is the bigger stretch of land on the mountainside, including an old swimming pool, old zozo huts from the previous institution that owned the place and a LOT of Port Jackson weed. The larger site is the area on which the Department of Education will be building the proper final school structures over the next 18 months (here's hoping--who knows when it comes to building time scales). This site is accessed from 2 sides: one from the township where most of our students stay, and the other from a suburb which was an ex-apartheid 'whites only area'. The school effectively sits in what was previously termed the 'buffer zone' in apartheid parlance (although the local estate agent still seems to think this is an ok term to use. We told her we weren't interested in dealing with racists when she described the arrival of the local GP as "a relief: we thought he was only going to treat black people". She was a charming character indeed. Not at all unusual for the area I suspect).
We're still waiting on desks and loos (!) which we're hoping are going to arrive next week before kids arrive on Wednesday. With the timetable in place, the next task is designing diagnostic tests to find out what the kids do and don't know. Chances are that they are at least a year behind, probably more, so the year's planning will need to go back to the basics and fill in as much as is feasible. I'm grateful for another experienced maths teacher on site, even though he will be split between maths and science. A fellow maths teacher brain is a godsend at this point.
Also warming to the heart is how well my ideas and suggestions for working in bilingual additive maths learning have been received by my colleagues. The dictionaries provided by my friends at PRAESA (you know who you are!) are sources of joy and delight to all the staff and we're super excited about leveraging students' home language to understand maths better AND improve their English. I'll also be trying out some techniques used in California (See Khisty in Barwell 2009) for Spanish-speaking students simultaneously learning maths and English (letter writing to your teacher explaining your maths thinking behind your answer! How awesome is that?) and will keep you posted on how these go.
On a last note, yesterday was a major wake up call as to how embroiled (and not a little self-indulgent) I have become in academic communities and thinking. We ain't in Kansas any more Toto. You can take your theories of Bourdieurian cultural capital and shove them where the sun don't shine. And yet, there is no point to all that if there is not some way of reconciling the theory with the real. So I'll also reflect on that occasionally as I traverse this quagmired labyrinth with my colleagues and my students.
As our HT quite rightly said: fasten your seatbelts. It's going to be a bumpy ride.
So we started 'unofficially' with staff yesterday. After about 100 hours doing the timetable and dispairing at the fact that we can only fit half the kids in half the classes (an interesting timetabling constraint!!) i finally made peace with the bits I didn't like and presented it to my colleagues today. To say it was a relief is a massive understatement! And, much to my comfort, they were very understanding about the nature of timetables. Some were quite complimentary actually. Apparently having a timetable in place before the kids arrive is rather unusual in SA public education. Now ain't that an indictment...
We are 9. 10 with the HT. 11 with the admin lady. We're in 7 classrooms of welded-together crates, painted in some nice bright colours, with a separate hall which is a bit of a schlep up the hill: 8 classes running in total all the time, 4 per grade. At least we get a little bit of downtime... at any one point, one member of staff is not teaching. I've learned in the last week that that too is a luxury in SA education where there is no such thing as protected planning/preparation time. Me? I'm teaching 25 hours a week.
There are 2 'sites': a site within a site if you like. The first is the small area where we'll all be working, fenced off and alarmed (!). The level of security makes me feel uneasy and relaxed at the same time. On the one hand one does not want to feel like you're in a prison. On the other, you need to be realistic about where you're working. Being naive or blase will not help anyone.
The hall is outside this, but otherwise it is access controlled and we park inside. The larger 'site' is the bigger stretch of land on the mountainside, including an old swimming pool, old zozo huts from the previous institution that owned the place and a LOT of Port Jackson weed. The larger site is the area on which the Department of Education will be building the proper final school structures over the next 18 months (here's hoping--who knows when it comes to building time scales). This site is accessed from 2 sides: one from the township where most of our students stay, and the other from a suburb which was an ex-apartheid 'whites only area'. The school effectively sits in what was previously termed the 'buffer zone' in apartheid parlance (although the local estate agent still seems to think this is an ok term to use. We told her we weren't interested in dealing with racists when she described the arrival of the local GP as "a relief: we thought he was only going to treat black people". She was a charming character indeed. Not at all unusual for the area I suspect).
We're still waiting on desks and loos (!) which we're hoping are going to arrive next week before kids arrive on Wednesday. With the timetable in place, the next task is designing diagnostic tests to find out what the kids do and don't know. Chances are that they are at least a year behind, probably more, so the year's planning will need to go back to the basics and fill in as much as is feasible. I'm grateful for another experienced maths teacher on site, even though he will be split between maths and science. A fellow maths teacher brain is a godsend at this point.
Also warming to the heart is how well my ideas and suggestions for working in bilingual additive maths learning have been received by my colleagues. The dictionaries provided by my friends at PRAESA (you know who you are!) are sources of joy and delight to all the staff and we're super excited about leveraging students' home language to understand maths better AND improve their English. I'll also be trying out some techniques used in California (See Khisty in Barwell 2009) for Spanish-speaking students simultaneously learning maths and English (letter writing to your teacher explaining your maths thinking behind your answer! How awesome is that?) and will keep you posted on how these go.
On a last note, yesterday was a major wake up call as to how embroiled (and not a little self-indulgent) I have become in academic communities and thinking. We ain't in Kansas any more Toto. You can take your theories of Bourdieurian cultural capital and shove them where the sun don't shine. And yet, there is no point to all that if there is not some way of reconciling the theory with the real. So I'll also reflect on that occasionally as I traverse this quagmired labyrinth with my colleagues and my students.
As our HT quite rightly said: fasten your seatbelts. It's going to be a bumpy ride.
Sunday, 11 November 2012
The school as the place of sanction: problems with punishment and power in the classroom.
One of the most wonderful aspects of being part of a start up school is the opportunity to reflect on what a school is and whether this form of social infrastructure is what it should be.
Two readings of an academic nature that I've been tackling for thesis purposes have really struck home regarding my assumptions and associations of what a school, and schooling, are. The first is Discipline and Punish by Michel Foucault, and the second is The Activities of Teaching by Thomas F. Green. Both are pretty abstract but their relevance to practice and the every-day is not difficult to see. I'm just going to talk about reflections on punishment today, and leave the Green reading for a later post.
Much of Foucault's work stems around the social, and Discipline and Punish is particularly focused on social institutions and processes that enforce penalty of some kind: prisons etc. Naturally, one of these institutions has traditionally been the school--even the cover of the book draws on that classic Victorian method of punishment from a despotic teacher: the wooden ruler.
Just on seeing this book jacket, mental images are immediately conjured up of corporal punishment, writing lines, detention, suspension or, that ultimate of school penalties: expulsion.
Expulsion: that process that says "we are so hellbent on punishing you as an individual that we will deny you access to education" (yeah right: because that's exactly what is going to help a troubled teen work their way through those difficult years... a lack of education. Seems to me to be a recipe for turning a troubled teen into a troubled adult).
Chatting with the principal of the new school, I confess my mind turned to that automatic question that every new teacher wants to ask: "what are the sanction processes if a student causes trouble?".
Straight away I resented myself for asking it: it immediately exposed how deeply internalised the idea of a school-as-a-place-of-sanction has become in my mind. I want to undo that line of thinking before I start working in the new school. At a superficial level I think I've long decided I disagree with the sanctioning structures schools normally impose, and this manifested in my prior teaching job as a deep-seated reluctance to use the school sanctioning system. The system was "3 warnings and you're out".
1 warning = no sanction yet;
2 warnings = come back at a time of the teacher's choosing;
3 warnings = get out of class and go to the "parking" room where an on-duty teacher will supervise you doing work isolated.
It hardly ever worked. On being ejected from the room, students would walk around the school feeling jaded and excluded (because they were), causing trouble with other classes and generally refusing to do anything they were asked to do; or alternatively, they would refuse to leave the room because actually they wanted to be there, but wanted attention, and senior staff being called in to remove them. The resultant conflict and tension was as disruptive, if not more, than what the student was doing in the first place. The other students would witness the spectacle, and the 'loss of face' for the student in question, further eroding what little self-esteem they may have had.
Parents would get called in: interviews with senior staff, student and parents would result in parents questioning the teachers' judgment and capability of handling a class (that they should need to resort to excluding a child from the room) and staff justifying their position and why the student needed to now miss 3 days of school on suspension. It made more work for the teacher, who then was supposed to collect work for the student to do while at home so that the student didn't miss out on learning (this hardly ever happened). So the student returns having missed lessons, even less likely to be able to follow, feeling they've been publicly shamed, and therefore more likely to start causing trouble as a mechanism of hiding their distress at feeling 'stupid' or 'bad'. The relationship between the student and the teacher was often irreparably damaged. And so we'd start all over again.
I hardly ever issued warnings: you can see why I was reluctant to start with the whole process. That said, there were one or two students with whom I just didn't know what else to do. It didn't work at all. We ended up really resenting each other, and meetings between us was enough to make all of our days' really horrid.
The common 'justification' for the process was that we had to think about all the learners in the room, not just one, and if learning was not happening as a result of one student, then we owed it to the others to 'minimise the risk' by excluding that one student.
But how much were we 'minimising the risk' really? That student would come back again. In fact, we were probably creating a more systemic chronic disruption to that entire class long-term by constantly engaging in battle with this student, exercising our power and authority over them punitively (and that's Foucault's point really: that it's about creating and enforcing power structures). They've already demonstrated their willingness to engage in self-destructive behaviour as a mechanism of resistance. Me asserting my authority over them is not going to change that.
What is it that they are trying to resist?
So far, as a teacher, most of what I've learned about troubled students is that the resistance is not against me. It's not personal. It's the student often trying to resist the identity that they feel society is forcing on them, the labels that they automatically bear by simply not fitting well into a very narrow form of behaviour: "stupid", "slow", "restless", "weak", "bad". They are feeling powerless, and their instant response is to try and claw back a little semblance of power by disrupting, to exercise control by causing "trouble" instead.
Referring back to my earlier question, "what are the sanction processes if a student causes trouble?", what is meant exactly by "trouble"? A person who doesn't enjoy sitting in a chair for hours on end? A person who prefers to learn by doing rather than by book? A person who perhaps doesn't remember facts easily? A person who feels uncomfortable and wants to 'get away' when placed in a situation which really doesn't suit them at all? Because this description fits most adults too. Labelling it as 'troublesome' is to pathologise normal behaviour.
So by 'trouble' do we mean ' a person who doesn't fit into a very narrow definition of how things are done?' When put in such a position, un-self-regulated teenager acts out their internal feelings about the situation instead of suppressing their reaction as 'inappropriate'. This is one of the things I like about teenagers... they are not yet clipped and pruned into what society likes to call 'proper behaviour'. i.e. that behaviour which is self-regulated, self-suppressive and a little soul destroying. They sense that they do not fit, that they are marginalised and seen as less, and they respond naturally by resisting.
Perhaps, by 'trouble', we are talking about them defying our power. It always bothers me that teachers who see no problem with heavy punitive measures love to use the word defiance. For some teachers, it seems, their favourite part of the job is being powerful. In the realm of our classrooms, on our own without observer or witness, we are the kings of our domain. We are supremely powerful. I think some teachers get off on that. My father often recollects a particular teacher at his own school who couldn't hide his glee when he received students in his office to administer corporal punishment. Dad's response? To team up with his friends and between them notch up so many blows that the teacher was not physically fit enough to administer them. Yup: his way of resisting and 'taking back power' was to keep coming back for continuous beatings until the teacher almost keeled over from exhaustion. That's the degree to which students will go to resist the power exerted over them.
Back to my question to the principal: I think the reason the question popped out of my mouth is because I am afraid. I'm afraid of an unknown: I've never been, myself, a member of an institution that has done things differently to what I've described above. I can't yet imagine the alternative. And, having been involved with some students who have been physically violent in their resistance, fear is an understandable reaction.
But there can be no denying that the standard school punishment paradigm is deeply problematic: the only 2 outcomes are to either break a student into submission (and all the psychological effects that come with it) or to constantly engage in a ratchet effect of who can outdo whom in an attempt to do so, by whatever means necessary.
Here in SA, violence is an endemic natural part of our lives, and we have become desensitized to it. Despite corporal punishment being officially illegal, it is widespread and common place: and in some cases, the imagination exercised in dreaming up ways of administering pain as a mechanism of control is horrific. If only teachers exercised that amount of imagination in their lesson planning! Physical pain inflicted by those who have power over you is normal in our schools: teacher-to-student, student-to-student and, unfortunately, sometimes teacher-to-teacher. How can we then be surprised that our students grow up seeing violence as a legitimate form of exercising control? How can we be surprised that we have so many violent adults? We are breeding violence in our schools, and I believe that a culture of Victorian discipline and punishment that has persisted, combined with the deep psychological scars and issues of power that our history has brought us, is the cause.
I don't believe teachers should enjoy the power they exercise over students. Our role is one of great responsibility (insert cheesy Spiderman quote here). We have an inordinate amount of control over these kids' lives. We certainly should not be condoning physical pain as a means of control. We shouldn't be exercising psychological pain as a form of control either. Nor should we be denying our students their basic right to learn as a means of punishment.
It's got to come from respect, somewhere. From seeing the student as a human being who is vulnerable, prone to fear and feelings of inadequacy, and providing a space where their resistance serves no purpose because it is not needed. They need not resist, because who they are is OK as is, irrespective of age, language, gender, prior attainment, preference. As long as you're respecting other people, and not insisting on exercising control over them, then you are welcome as you are: jumpy or calm, loud or quiet, a reader or a doer.
With this in mind, I'm going to take the following ideas into my new classroom in January:
1. No student of mine is going to miss out on learning because they don't fit in.
2. Punishment is not the answer.
I've got to remember that I'm the powerful one here. Not the student. I need to exercise that power cautiously.
Let's start there and see how it goes.
Two readings of an academic nature that I've been tackling for thesis purposes have really struck home regarding my assumptions and associations of what a school, and schooling, are. The first is Discipline and Punish by Michel Foucault, and the second is The Activities of Teaching by Thomas F. Green. Both are pretty abstract but their relevance to practice and the every-day is not difficult to see. I'm just going to talk about reflections on punishment today, and leave the Green reading for a later post.
Much of Foucault's work stems around the social, and Discipline and Punish is particularly focused on social institutions and processes that enforce penalty of some kind: prisons etc. Naturally, one of these institutions has traditionally been the school--even the cover of the book draws on that classic Victorian method of punishment from a despotic teacher: the wooden ruler.
Just on seeing this book jacket, mental images are immediately conjured up of corporal punishment, writing lines, detention, suspension or, that ultimate of school penalties: expulsion.
Expulsion: that process that says "we are so hellbent on punishing you as an individual that we will deny you access to education" (yeah right: because that's exactly what is going to help a troubled teen work their way through those difficult years... a lack of education. Seems to me to be a recipe for turning a troubled teen into a troubled adult).
Chatting with the principal of the new school, I confess my mind turned to that automatic question that every new teacher wants to ask: "what are the sanction processes if a student causes trouble?".
Straight away I resented myself for asking it: it immediately exposed how deeply internalised the idea of a school-as-a-place-of-sanction has become in my mind. I want to undo that line of thinking before I start working in the new school. At a superficial level I think I've long decided I disagree with the sanctioning structures schools normally impose, and this manifested in my prior teaching job as a deep-seated reluctance to use the school sanctioning system. The system was "3 warnings and you're out".
1 warning = no sanction yet;
2 warnings = come back at a time of the teacher's choosing;
3 warnings = get out of class and go to the "parking" room where an on-duty teacher will supervise you doing work isolated.
It hardly ever worked. On being ejected from the room, students would walk around the school feeling jaded and excluded (because they were), causing trouble with other classes and generally refusing to do anything they were asked to do; or alternatively, they would refuse to leave the room because actually they wanted to be there, but wanted attention, and senior staff being called in to remove them. The resultant conflict and tension was as disruptive, if not more, than what the student was doing in the first place. The other students would witness the spectacle, and the 'loss of face' for the student in question, further eroding what little self-esteem they may have had.
Parents would get called in: interviews with senior staff, student and parents would result in parents questioning the teachers' judgment and capability of handling a class (that they should need to resort to excluding a child from the room) and staff justifying their position and why the student needed to now miss 3 days of school on suspension. It made more work for the teacher, who then was supposed to collect work for the student to do while at home so that the student didn't miss out on learning (this hardly ever happened). So the student returns having missed lessons, even less likely to be able to follow, feeling they've been publicly shamed, and therefore more likely to start causing trouble as a mechanism of hiding their distress at feeling 'stupid' or 'bad'. The relationship between the student and the teacher was often irreparably damaged. And so we'd start all over again.
I hardly ever issued warnings: you can see why I was reluctant to start with the whole process. That said, there were one or two students with whom I just didn't know what else to do. It didn't work at all. We ended up really resenting each other, and meetings between us was enough to make all of our days' really horrid.
The common 'justification' for the process was that we had to think about all the learners in the room, not just one, and if learning was not happening as a result of one student, then we owed it to the others to 'minimise the risk' by excluding that one student.
But how much were we 'minimising the risk' really? That student would come back again. In fact, we were probably creating a more systemic chronic disruption to that entire class long-term by constantly engaging in battle with this student, exercising our power and authority over them punitively (and that's Foucault's point really: that it's about creating and enforcing power structures). They've already demonstrated their willingness to engage in self-destructive behaviour as a mechanism of resistance. Me asserting my authority over them is not going to change that.
What is it that they are trying to resist?
So far, as a teacher, most of what I've learned about troubled students is that the resistance is not against me. It's not personal. It's the student often trying to resist the identity that they feel society is forcing on them, the labels that they automatically bear by simply not fitting well into a very narrow form of behaviour: "stupid", "slow", "restless", "weak", "bad". They are feeling powerless, and their instant response is to try and claw back a little semblance of power by disrupting, to exercise control by causing "trouble" instead.
Referring back to my earlier question, "what are the sanction processes if a student causes trouble?", what is meant exactly by "trouble"? A person who doesn't enjoy sitting in a chair for hours on end? A person who prefers to learn by doing rather than by book? A person who perhaps doesn't remember facts easily? A person who feels uncomfortable and wants to 'get away' when placed in a situation which really doesn't suit them at all? Because this description fits most adults too. Labelling it as 'troublesome' is to pathologise normal behaviour.
So by 'trouble' do we mean ' a person who doesn't fit into a very narrow definition of how things are done?' When put in such a position, un-self-regulated teenager acts out their internal feelings about the situation instead of suppressing their reaction as 'inappropriate'. This is one of the things I like about teenagers... they are not yet clipped and pruned into what society likes to call 'proper behaviour'. i.e. that behaviour which is self-regulated, self-suppressive and a little soul destroying. They sense that they do not fit, that they are marginalised and seen as less, and they respond naturally by resisting.
Perhaps, by 'trouble', we are talking about them defying our power. It always bothers me that teachers who see no problem with heavy punitive measures love to use the word defiance. For some teachers, it seems, their favourite part of the job is being powerful. In the realm of our classrooms, on our own without observer or witness, we are the kings of our domain. We are supremely powerful. I think some teachers get off on that. My father often recollects a particular teacher at his own school who couldn't hide his glee when he received students in his office to administer corporal punishment. Dad's response? To team up with his friends and between them notch up so many blows that the teacher was not physically fit enough to administer them. Yup: his way of resisting and 'taking back power' was to keep coming back for continuous beatings until the teacher almost keeled over from exhaustion. That's the degree to which students will go to resist the power exerted over them.
Back to my question to the principal: I think the reason the question popped out of my mouth is because I am afraid. I'm afraid of an unknown: I've never been, myself, a member of an institution that has done things differently to what I've described above. I can't yet imagine the alternative. And, having been involved with some students who have been physically violent in their resistance, fear is an understandable reaction.
But there can be no denying that the standard school punishment paradigm is deeply problematic: the only 2 outcomes are to either break a student into submission (and all the psychological effects that come with it) or to constantly engage in a ratchet effect of who can outdo whom in an attempt to do so, by whatever means necessary.
Here in SA, violence is an endemic natural part of our lives, and we have become desensitized to it. Despite corporal punishment being officially illegal, it is widespread and common place: and in some cases, the imagination exercised in dreaming up ways of administering pain as a mechanism of control is horrific. If only teachers exercised that amount of imagination in their lesson planning! Physical pain inflicted by those who have power over you is normal in our schools: teacher-to-student, student-to-student and, unfortunately, sometimes teacher-to-teacher. How can we then be surprised that our students grow up seeing violence as a legitimate form of exercising control? How can we be surprised that we have so many violent adults? We are breeding violence in our schools, and I believe that a culture of Victorian discipline and punishment that has persisted, combined with the deep psychological scars and issues of power that our history has brought us, is the cause.
I don't believe teachers should enjoy the power they exercise over students. Our role is one of great responsibility (insert cheesy Spiderman quote here). We have an inordinate amount of control over these kids' lives. We certainly should not be condoning physical pain as a means of control. We shouldn't be exercising psychological pain as a form of control either. Nor should we be denying our students their basic right to learn as a means of punishment.
It's got to come from respect, somewhere. From seeing the student as a human being who is vulnerable, prone to fear and feelings of inadequacy, and providing a space where their resistance serves no purpose because it is not needed. They need not resist, because who they are is OK as is, irrespective of age, language, gender, prior attainment, preference. As long as you're respecting other people, and not insisting on exercising control over them, then you are welcome as you are: jumpy or calm, loud or quiet, a reader or a doer.
With this in mind, I'm going to take the following ideas into my new classroom in January:
1. No student of mine is going to miss out on learning because they don't fit in.
2. Punishment is not the answer.
I've got to remember that I'm the powerful one here. Not the student. I need to exercise that power cautiously.
Let's start there and see how it goes.
Wednesday, 7 November 2012
Masisakheni isikolo
So this blog is about to get seriously regular. It's been sporadic until now, but that's going to change.
I'm ecstatic, thrilled... no, completely ping-pong-rubber-ball-excited! Today I got offered the job I couldn't have imagined a month ago. It started with a cold call to a school that I admire and thought I might try my luck at, since my Masters is drawing to an end and gainful employment might be a good idea (it seems the bills don't stop coming once the money has!)
The school in question (no names mentioned) unfortunately had no vacancies, but one of their own was about to launch a new school and he gave me a call when he saw my CV. One thing leads to another and after an interview yesterday, I got the call this morning. We're starting a brand new high school!!!
Not just any high school. A proper public high school--you know, the type that are accountable to voters. Serving an under-developed area where the student numbers far exceed the public school system capacity in the area, but on a location tucked in between the mountains with a view of the ocean, surrounded by pine trees and wild flowers.
We'll be starting in temporary structures, with grades 8 and 9. The opportunities are endless: how to bring kids who are behind up to speed; how to create spaces for exploring beyond the curriculum; choosing resources and materials that we want to use; arranging activities and learning opportunities that turn these kids into competent and confident young adults, equipped with what they need; creating a culture, a way of working, that is respectful and productive, critical and conscientized; where what you do is what matters, not who you are. But best of all, we're going to find ways of giving these students the skills that will enable them to not merely survive in the world, but to see the world for what it is, and have the imagination and boldness to deconstruct and reconstruct it far better than anything my generation or our predecessors have made up until now.
So this blog is going regular: I'll try and document experiences and reflections here regularly as the school starts and develops. We're only just in the beginning phases... who knows what will happen over the next 6, 12, 18, 24 months? It's going to be epic! It's going to break ground.
Masisakheni isikolo! Let's build a school!
I'm ecstatic, thrilled... no, completely ping-pong-rubber-ball-excited! Today I got offered the job I couldn't have imagined a month ago. It started with a cold call to a school that I admire and thought I might try my luck at, since my Masters is drawing to an end and gainful employment might be a good idea (it seems the bills don't stop coming once the money has!)
The school in question (no names mentioned) unfortunately had no vacancies, but one of their own was about to launch a new school and he gave me a call when he saw my CV. One thing leads to another and after an interview yesterday, I got the call this morning. We're starting a brand new high school!!!
Not just any high school. A proper public high school--you know, the type that are accountable to voters. Serving an under-developed area where the student numbers far exceed the public school system capacity in the area, but on a location tucked in between the mountains with a view of the ocean, surrounded by pine trees and wild flowers.
We'll be starting in temporary structures, with grades 8 and 9. The opportunities are endless: how to bring kids who are behind up to speed; how to create spaces for exploring beyond the curriculum; choosing resources and materials that we want to use; arranging activities and learning opportunities that turn these kids into competent and confident young adults, equipped with what they need; creating a culture, a way of working, that is respectful and productive, critical and conscientized; where what you do is what matters, not who you are. But best of all, we're going to find ways of giving these students the skills that will enable them to not merely survive in the world, but to see the world for what it is, and have the imagination and boldness to deconstruct and reconstruct it far better than anything my generation or our predecessors have made up until now.
So this blog is going regular: I'll try and document experiences and reflections here regularly as the school starts and develops. We're only just in the beginning phases... who knows what will happen over the next 6, 12, 18, 24 months? It's going to be epic! It's going to break ground.
Masisakheni isikolo! Let's build a school!
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