A new semester brings new challenges

by Jillian @ http://blueshelled.com . September 1, 2011 . 11:31PM

Wednesday was the start of my new semester of teaching. As my undergraduates shuffled into the classroom, I pushed my sweat-soaked hair off of my forehead and looked around at their nervous, but eager faces. I knew they were predominantly freshman and that many of them were brand new to the city and state. I’d hiked up the stairs twice in an attempt to get them books for the course, which the university was providing in a rare show of support for the students. Generally, books weren’t required for the class I was teaching, but the university has chosen to take this course in a new direction of civic service with a service learning component and, thus, they’d decided students needed books to meet this criteria. What this meant for me was that I was now in charge of making sure my students got them and some workplaces are more organized than others.

As I took some deep breaths I tried to remember that I love to teach and that my students propel me forward. Teaching gives me energy rather than draining it, which can be rare for an introvert like myself. I flipped the outdated computer on and promptly mis-entered my password no less than 4 times. As the powerpoint projector was already going, the students giggled nervously and a few made comments that the university was yanking them around with their passwords as well. One cheerfully offered to allow me to use his password and I smiled and thanked him while glaring at the screen and typing the password in more slowly…and was then prompted to change my password which caused a whole new host of issues.

We looked at each other thoughtfully, the class and I. I never know what they will teach me and it’s always something tremendous, heartfelt and amazing. Every single class causes me to laugh and I rarely leave feeling like I wish I hadn’t worked that day. As I started my presentation, I considered carefully how to word what I was about to say and then words tumbled out of my mouth, as they often do, without my really knowing what was going to happen. I began to describe myself, my credentials and then the course that would become a huge part of their learning experience this semester. When I described the large amount of service learning that they would be giving to their community, I stopped talking and looked at my hands.

“This is what defines you. I’m not sure that you realize that. What you give back and what you show is what defines you, not the current community perception of our university. I’m certain that you may have heard things about what people think of your school, what people think of you in the past and what people think they know about what you can do. I’ve heard teachers complain that every single semester they get a bad class and here’s what I can tell you: Those are NOT bad students. Those are bad teachers. Those are teachers who aren’t taking the time to discover the joy and excellence that is within each of you. Every single one of you has something interesting and new to offer me and the opportunity to offer your classmates the chance to grow from you. You are brilliant, amazing and thoughtful and don’t let anyone tell you that you are less than what you are and what you can be either in here or outside of the class.”

Clearly, the freshman have not been exposed to my soapbox speeches yet. Some jaws were dropped, many smiled with such beauty that I needed to take a second and others looked at me like I’d lost my marbles. Students who’ve had me in class before know that I have no problem telling my students that they are like my kids and that I care for them tremendously. The first day of class is the chance to remind them that as they are adults, very few people will grant them trust and belief in them without strings and from the start. In my classroom, they have that until they work to lose it. For some, this is a new experience, this Rogerian model of teaching. For some, they will need to see it to believe it.

Though I’m disappointed to not teach psychology this semester, I am excited about my new class. Yes, yes I am. Why? I think it’s probably the reason that all teachers are excited about the new year regardless of which subject or grade they teach. Students are brilliant, amazing and thoughtful and with them comes the chance for us to grow in ways we never thought possible. For us to be challenged and to think in ways that we haven’t been able to in the past. To reach people in ways we never thought we might.

It’s not about the subject, it’s about how you do what you do.

Teachers and their role in bullying

by Jillian @ http://blueshelled.com . April 3, 2011 . 1:18AM

As I taught my classroom full of teachers, I looked around the room and my heart grew heavy. Often, my classroom deviates from the class lesson to discuss practical application of our learned principles and today I had to discuss something that bothered me on a personal level. I was teaching my students about the development of the young minds that they would help shape and role model behavior at impressionable ages and they far outnumbered me, the new teacher of two years. Frankly, few things intimidate me, but I was going to call them out in advance on something that they needed to learn now, before they did something that could hurt someone tremendously and I wasn’t looking forward to a potential negative response. However, fear has never stopped me from saying what needed to be said, especially when I had the opportunity to use it as a teachable moment and I wiped my hands on my jeans and turned to them.

“You all want to be teachers. We’ve talked about bullying, but what you probably don’t realize is that some of the biggest offenders of bullying in schools are the staff. That’s right. I’m pointing my finger at all of you and telling you now to be careful how you conduct yourself because your actions can be just as, if not more, harmful than the actions that these students deal with in their peers. I recently read a study that told me that teachers instigate bullying on a regular basis. The ways they do this are by ignoring children that are “dumb,” laughing at the jokes children make at another child, feeding into the relational aggression ala Mean Girls by taking sides or allowing it in their classrooms, lunch rooms, gymnasiums and hallways, or, what I consider to be most hurtful, going into their teacher’s lounge and commiserating about children and actively working against the better needs of the child by making the child a pariah amongst the adults as well. They also do this by writing intentionally vague and negative comments that stay in a child’s report card file until they graduate high school. This is all BULLYING and YOU are going to buy into it…unless you consider it and stop yourself now. You can do this with self-awareness and the knowledge that you will NOT be that kind of teacher and that you are teaching to make a positive impact and not crush a child’s will.”

By this time, I was gaining momentum. The room was completely silent. I have my class write journals and I knew that some of them had been bullied by teachers. One of the ways I teach my students is to share stories with them about my experiences both as a student and as a teacher. Now was the time for me to wince and share some of my personal experiences. Earlier this semester, I’d had them do an experiment on assumptions and write a journal about it. One assumption they made about me was that I’d never been bullied. It’s not true. I’d been bullied by a few students, but what really impacted me was the way some of my teachers treated not only me, but my fellow students.

“When I was in high school, I was pretty naive. I thought that teachers always had your best interests in mind and that they could be counted on to act like adults. I’d had an experience in junior high where I’d made the mistake of acting like I was going to throw my basketball at my coach. She flipped out, screamed at me in front of my team and shamed me. I didn’t play much that season and I never tried out for basketball again. Looking back on that behavior as an adult, I’m appalled and curious as to why no one thought that behavior was irrational at the time? However, in high school, I had this idea that everything was going to be different. New friends, new classes, new teachers, a new start and that things were going to be ok. I was wrong.”

“See, adults still do the petty things adults do, even when they teach. Professionalism is key. An English teacher lost her cool and called an entire sophomore class “a bunch of bitches.” She later apologized, but I don’t remember her getting into any real trouble for something that, as a parent, I would take serious issue over. We weren’t acting like a “bunch of bitches” that day. She was having a bad day, we were all working on projects and we weren’t moving quickly enough is what I remember. I was surprised and vaguely concerned that she’d lost her marbles. She also put on the school’s musical. I was helping with sound and when a tape was played improperly she went berserk. It heavily defined my high school years. Not only did she go crazy on me for what another person admitted was that person’s fault at having not rewound the tape earlier in the evening, but she didn’t bother to defend me to an angry cast of people. She walked out of the auditorium and left a freshman to deal with something that was beyond her control. I dealt with the fallout from that for not days, not weeks, not months, but YEARS. I still have nightmares about that. As adults, you are responsible for YOUR responses and for helping to calm the responses of others.”

As I spoke, some students began to look nervously at their hands and what I realized is that they weren’t bored. They weren’t uncomfortable with my story. My story had triggered their stories. I went on.

“Around that time, because of the issue with that teacher, I began lying about things to look better. I was miserable with life. I felt like I had no support and that people weren’t listening when I’d defend myself with the truth so lies were better. Because of that, when I auditioned for something that meant a lot to me, I didn’t make it. When I went to talk to the new sponsor for that activity, it ultimately boiled down to my not being able to be in the activity because a couple of the guys in that activity couldn’t get beyond it and they were short on guys. It wasn’t my lack of talent. It wasn’t that I wasn’t capable. It was that the guys couldn’t get beyond and they couldn’t lose them. The teacher had not only allowed the bullying, he’d promoted it. He didn’t help their growth and he shattered my self-esteem.”

I took a deep breath and sat down at my table in the front of the room.

“Why am I telling you this? Do I need you to feel sorry for me? Absolutely not. I am less than a year from getting my doctorate and I have no idea what path my life would have taken had I not developed the resolve that those experiences gave me. I’m telling you this because every single action you take as an educator COUNTS. Every minute of every day, every smile, every frown, every word, every shrug. It all counts. When you take actions to make your everyday life easier at the cost of hurting a child, you have no idea what the repercussions may be or how long-lasting. I remember those teachers. Let me tell you what else I remember. I remember the fourth grade teacher that wrote to me for 2 years after I moved because I was lonely. I remember the high school communication student teacher that taught me how to be a confident speaker. I remember the band teacher that gave me a chance to learn an instrument when all of the other students had been playing for years. I remember the community college professor that listened to what I wrote and proclaimed it brilliant. I remember the undergraduate professor who still writes me to tell me he’s proud of what I’m doing. I remember the masters professor who comments on my accomplishments with such happiness that I smile to know that she genuinely cares. I remember the doctoral professors who cared enough that in some dark days they cut me a real break when I needed it. I remember ALL those teachers. The good and the bad. What kind of teacher will you be? Whatever kind it is, you will be remembered. But HOW will you be remembered?”

I closed my eyes, shuffled my papers and waited. My students are insightful and this sparked discussion as to the experiences they had and the problems that they’d encountered. Those aren’t mine to share. As we grow up, we forget what it is like to be a child. We forget that people aren’t always nice and those that are supposed to protect us, advocate for us, don’t always do their job. Hopefully, I reminded them and they take it with them. If they don’t, they can always email me and I’ll give them advice.

It’s my job.

Helping Children say goodbye

by Jillian @ http://blueshelled.com . May 25, 2009 . 3:06PM

On Wednesday, I picked up a subdued AJ from school and prepared to bring him home. I expected him to be jubilant as he’d spent all day on a field trip and it was his last full day of school for for 3 months! As a child, I remembered the last week of school as being an exciting time full of joy and the thrill of the upcoming summer. When I asked AJ if he was excited about his last day of school being Thursday, though, I watched his lip wobble and he looked at his feet. Sometimes I forget that he’s still a little guy because he’s so tall.

“Yes. No. I don’t know, maybe.”

Color me confused because this is not the reaction I would have if I was in my last week of school. Most of his classmates cannot wait to get out of school. Earlier in the week, he’d asked me if he could get his teacher, Mrs. C, a card and I’d said yes. After Leon came home from work, we headed to Target, to get some necessities, some non-necessities and the card for Mrs. C.

Immediately, after arriving at home from the store, AJ began digging in the sack for his card for Mrs. C. I asked him to write her a short note and then sign it. When he showed it to me, I immediately saw why he was so sad to be leaving school.

Thank you for all you did for us this year. Your the best teacher. In the world. don’t leave But say goodby .

(all spelling errors, punctuation and smilies are AJ’s)

He asked me to not take a picture of his writing, but even the writing looked sad on the card. He looked at me and whispered that he “didn’t want to leave Mrs. C” and that he would “miss her so much.”

I’ve mentioned before that this particular teacher made a huge impact on my child. The knowledge that he has is that he will either have a teacher that understands him and his learning style or he won’t. I think there is quite a bit of fear that he will have a teacher that doesn’t and that he will be in the same position he occupied in K-1, where the teachers often misunderstood him.

As a mom, it’s time for me to step in and remind him that he was lucky to have this teacher while he did and that she was precious. However, we’ve learned that he is capable of putting forth a great effort and making some amazing changes in himself that serve him well no matter who he has as a teacher. He will still be in the same school and this teacher will be loving and supportive of him regardless of whether or not he is in her classroom. We will say goodbye gently and lovingly and remember what she has taught him about himself and life and tackling challenges that seem insurmountable. I cannot thank her enough for teaching him something that I could not teach him at the time.

It truly takes a community to raise a child. I’m thankful for the one in which I live. They are wonderful people.

A spoon full of sugar is what kindness is to us

by Jillian @ http://blueshelled.com . May 7, 2009 . 2:13AM

One thing I’ve noticed is that we, as humans, understand abstract, but we want our proof in tangible form. When you ask people about God, they want to see Him/Her. When you ask people about love, they want you to prove it to them. When you stand accused, you must have a tangible alibi for why you are not guilty.

These things don’t change as we get older. When we hit about 12, Piaget, a development psychologist said that we begin to develop the capability for abstract thinking and moving beyond that concrete thought. I agree with Piaget because I have personally experienced this phenomenon and seen it with my eyes. I’ve taught it and shown it to my students and watched them be convinced of it’s truth. However, what I recognize is that the want and the need is still there to experience hands on proof for the things in life that comfort us.

If you feel attracted to someone, they want proof that you are attracted. How can I say this delicately? I don’t want you to walk up to me and show me your proof. Please don’t. You go to jail for those kinds of things. However, a comment as such is a good indicator of that unless it’s something like “Baby, dem clothes are looking mighty fine but dey be looking better on my floor.” I know you get my drift, here.

If you care for someone, they want proof that you care. A kind word or gesture is well received and I’m not talking a pep talk or false compliment. Something genuine that speaks to who they are as a person.

If someone feels insecure, they want to know that they can trust you. Trust is so hard because the question is, really, how do I give someone that in a tangible form? It’s so hard to earn because it’s a series of acts, rather than one act and a single act can negate all of the series.

My reason for bringing all of this up is due to my own feelings that came about after I received feedback from my students this semester. Finals were this week, May 5, and I had just given them an incredibly hard cumulative final. This was my first semester teaching undergraduates, which was daunting by itself, but I was also teaching Gen Psych. The thing about Gen Psych is that it is such a broad, diverse subject with so much material to cover that you never get everything in that you need to in a semester. Students often believe that you are an expert in the field when, in reality, I know alot about psychology, but I’m not an expert. I will be a lifelong learner.

Overall, my experience was astounding. I learned more from them than I believe they learned from me. I watched them grow and change in so many ways over the course of the semester. My worry about being a new instructor waned some as I drifted into my groove and learned more about my class. Every now and then, though, my doubts would come back to haunt me that maybe I wasn’t a good enough teacher and they would be better served by someone else. Just like everyone else, I needed that tangible proof that what I was doing was working and I was effective.

As I graded their papers, I hoped for strong grades and that they would all earn the final grade they wanted in the course. Overall, the majority of my students had As and Bs and I could not be more proud of them. My course was very, very challenging and I expected a lot from each and every one of them. They worked hard and they should be proud of themselves. After I finished my 4 hours of grading, I finally took time to savor my feedback. I was prepared for some nastiness after the final I’d just given them.

There was not a single bad comment about my teaching. There were some complaints about things that were beyond my control in the classroom setting, but overall, they rated me as “one of the best” teachers. There were so many edifying comments that, when I was finished reading, I was close to weeping. One said that he or she wished all of his/her teachers were just like me. Another said they would miss me, another loved the class, etc. There were more but I want to hold them in my heart. They feel too personal to share.

Yes, we all need something tangible, don’t we? I want to say that I’m so mature and comfortable in my own skin that I don’t need the reassurance, but it sure feels nice. Humans sure do respond well to kindness, don’t they?

Happy Thoughts Compilation from the last week

by Jillian @ http://blueshelled.com . March 28, 2009 . 11:38PM

I don’t know if anyone actually comes to my blog or if everyone just reads through a reader of some sort, but every day or every other, I make changes to my sidebar. They are just little thoughts that aren’t big enough for a whole entry, though they might eventually make up an entry. They are still things I want to remember, however, so here they are.

Sunday, March 22, 2009
When I’m sick, my dogs are as concerned as any human being I’ve ever met.

Monday, March 23, 2009
When I’m away from home and feel sad, upset or stressed out, the only place I want to be is at home and cuddling my dogs or talking to my family. They are my happy place.

Tuesday, March 24, 2009
Every time I teach my class teaches me more than I teach them. And they make me smile. A lot.

Wednesday, March 25, 2009
A test is really just a piece of paper with an ink on it. The only importance it has is the importance I give it and my self-worth isn’t based on how I do on it. Thank you, Dr. Chris Blazina for the cognitive reframe today.

Saturday, March 28, 2009
Life DOES come with extra credit. It’s called McDonald’s reduced fat vanilla ice cream.