The Little Guy!

This is a little boy from Guatemala that's been adopted by a woman here in Santa Fe. I take care of him a few days a week while she's at class.

This video is entitled 'Stay' because he's pretending I'm a dog and he's my owner and he's training me. He gets a tiny bit distracted at one point by how old he is, but then gets right back to business...

Adi's Dinner This Fine Eve

It's amazing how many different kinds of soupy-yet-not-quite-soup and stewey-yet-not-quite-stew dishes there are to be made in the world. I've made yet another one. It's true, I've never made this particular, exact one before. Have I made one like it? Probably. Somewhere out there in the ethers where my memory has run off to, I'm sure there's a recording of a dish that's similar...but not the same ladies and gents...not the same.

I've christened this meal: Broccoli, Black Bean and Fire Roasted Tomato Yum Yum Dish

This dish, I'm pleasantly finding, is perfect for a cold snowy day. It's juicy, warming, fresh and, most importantly, soothing to the innards. For I don't know why, but soothing the innards during the winter is oh so vital a task.

And how is it made? You ask? It's all in the photos I tell you. There's nothing more to it than you see right there above. Well, except for that part where you simmer the broccoli in just a bit of water for ten mins to soften it up. After that, just throw in what you see above and you're golden. GOLD....en.

One Week Under My Belt And . . .

One week under my belt and I feel quite overwhelmed.  I am teaching in the exact type of school Clark prepared me for (in theory) with the type of population I’d like to impact positively, and I’m feel pretty excited about the fact that I may have found a job working as a linguist for a company in San Francisco.

Ok, ok, that is, well, just an outside thought.  That is the fruit of my obsessive compulsive need check out what craigslist has to offer, even after I have a job, a place to live and a life to get started.  I think it might qualify for a new type of psychological disorder: OCCLD (obsessive compulsive craigslist disorder).  In reality I am a teacher, at least until the end of May, and I have 95 students who are supposedly learning the French language to focus on.

These 95 students are distributed among three classes, one of which has French II, French II honors, three French III students and as of Thursday one French IV student.  So while I am a part time teacher, I have enough work for a full time position scrunched into three periods a day.  I am also coming in to pick up where someone else left off and it seems that Steve (the guy I’m replacing) didn’t really do very much.  The range in where my students are is really quite drastic and while I would love nothing more than to create individual plans for each of them, I just don’t have that kind of time.

So I am feeling disheartened a bit I guess.  I am falling prey to the terrible habit of focusing on the students who don’t care and who disrupt class loudly, the ones that are frustrating and seem to have given up.  And part of me is ready to write them off and let them waste the rest of the year away to an F.  But that seems really quite counter what I was taught to do at Clark and quite counter to what I feel is right to do.  Even so, giving anyone individual attention in the hour I have with each class feels really challenging.  I do have a block period, but that is a great opportunity to do a variety of speaking activities.  And frankly, there are a few kids in particular who are just so clearly uninterested in both the class and in doing any work that I don’t feel like expending a lot of energy on them.  Of course I do have to remember that if I fail a lot of students, I will in essence be failing myself out of a full time job.  I keep trying to come back to ideas like, “they are teenagers and it is their job to test, to not care, to be immature, to need a kick in the ass, and such” or “love them.  Just love them.  They need it and even if they seem to think you are the most annoying, irritating, frustrating, dorkiest, lamest, most idiotic person alive, love them anyway.  You are the adult, they are not yet there.”  Oh how I love the student who hands in his quiz on “to have” in Spanish or the one who spends the entire period with his head on the table and has yet to turn in a single assignment.  Love love love!  Well, maybe someday . . .

In addition to feeling down on my students, I am also feeling down on my approach to and ability to plan right now.  I am doing the exact opposite of what I was taught to do at Clark.  I am opening my big ol’ teacher edition of the textbook every night and looking at the lesson we are on to plan for the next day.  I have tried to do a little planning more than a day at a time, but I never know how far I will get or how well the students will do.  I know that I spend too much time talking and yet it seems like when I turn it over to them for some doing (and me not talking), they don’t understand what I’ve just done.  I am struggling to make any of it interesting, finding the focus is heavily on grammar right now, either not keeping the students’ attention or not explaining things well, possibly not giving enough examples to make it clear and constantly going either too quickly or too slowly.  And given the wide range of levels in each class, I suppose it will always be too quick for some and too slow for others.

I keep trying to comfort myself with thoughts like, “it’s extra hard because you came in mid-year and you don’t know the book, nor do you  know what they’ve done up to this point.”  I did, by the way, talk to Steve about where he left off with them and he just gave me a unit and lesson number (not much help).  I can see that some students have formed some really bad habits (both in terms of work, attitude and respect for the teacher).  I do have the comfort of not having to get through a certain chapter by the end of the year, so I have the luxury of moving at a pace that works and of doing projects and activities outside of the book.

Anyway, I thought I’d be able to get into it much more than this, but I can’t even.  I only work until about 12:30 everyday and I have put a good amount of time into planning and working in the afternoons, but I still feel like I’m not getting anywhere or doing enough.  I feel like I should be thoroughly going through the textbook so that I am not just staying two steps ahead of the students, but when I go to do it, I don’t seem to be able to get very far.  I don’t know.  It’s like I am finally here doing what I’ve wanted to do for so long and I’m losing momentum, enthusiasm, creativity, and a feeling of inspiration.

I have had some great moments that have felt really solid and triumphant.  Then of course quickly a moment that feels like complete failure will pop up, reminding me that if I learned nothing else from student teaching, it is that there are some really extreme ups and downs in teaching.

Tidbits from Teaching - A Day in the Life of a Really Great French Teacher

By Becky

1.  Day 1 teaching.  As period II arrives, I put on my best, most exaggerated French accent.  I ooze as much sunny, bouncy Frenchness as I can when students enter "Allo!  Come een, come een!  Zere ees a card witzyour name on eet.  You moost find zee card end you seet zere, ok?  Ok!  Tres bien, tres bien!"  Some students seem excited that they might have a real live French person teaching their class, others confused, others scared, and of course some indifferent.  Continuing in the accent, I begin to introduce the first activity.  I hear murmurs, "YES!  Finally, a French teacher who is actually French!" or "is she really French?  Maybe she's from Belgum.  I don't think she's French."

When my voice and jaw get tired and I can't do it anymore, I break down and speak in my normal voice. This causes confusion, more murmurs, questions and a vote (I lead) to determine whether or not I am French.  Some students have spoken with students in period I and know that I am not, in fact French.  Even so, I have succeeded at convincing at least a few that I am indeed French.

At the end of the period with only a few minutes left in class a boy raises his hand and asks, "Miss, will you do the accent again?"  I laugh and say sure.  Then he asks if I will teach him - even more fun and exciting.  In my enthusiasm to jump on this moment of student interest I begin by explaining that a trick to sounding French is to pucker up your lips like you are about to kiss someone.  The words are no sooner out of my mouth and I hear, "Uhh, never mind."  Huh, I thought high school kids were really into kissing . . .

2.  Day 2 teaching:  The day went better than I had anticipated, though I still feel overwhelmed and generally clueless.  I clean up the room, pack my backpack, and get my bike ready for the ride home.  I decided to wear a dress today and since it was chilly in the dark fog when I left this morning, I added my sweat pants under the dress and a very large, oversized red sweatshirt over it for the bike ride.  Effectively, a small amount of the dress pokes out and I looked, well, special.  Arriving well before my students, I stashed the extra layers behind my desk.

As I prepare to go home, I am literally about to wheel the bike outside to take off (I make sure to put on my special bike uniform before going outside to minimize the chances of any students catching me in my bike gear).  Right after I put my helmet on I hear someone at the door.  A key opens it, and in walks a woman.  I know immediately who it is.

This is the woman with whom I share my classroom.  Let me be more specific; I teach three periods a day in the classroom and that is the only room I have.  She teaches one period at the end of the day and has another entire classroom in the almost brand new culinary arts building.  I am allotted one bulletin board, and a cabinet or two (allotted by her).  There is one desk in the room and one teacher computer.  The desk is filled with her stuff, and it looks as though it hasn't been touched since she started working here about thirty years ago.  But I have been warned that this has been her nest for thirty years (her old, now useless home-ec stuff is everywhere to prove it) and she is, um, let's say protective of her space.

So she enters and I immediately try to put on a smile and be as sweet as sweet can be.  I introduce myself before she has a chance to introduce herself.  "Hi, you must be D, right?  I'm Rebecca, the new French teacher.  It's so nice to meet you finally!"  Mind you as I'm saying this I'm taking off a bike helmet and feeling ever so self-conscious of my highly fashion forward ensemble.  I'm also trying to leave because I know that I will soon have a blood sugar crash and I really want to get home to make myself some food.  Basically, I'm not at my best.

She half smiles and says, hi.  Then she observes, "I see you've rearranged the room."  I cannot deny the fact that yes, the tables have been moved a little bit to open up the room, so I respond, "Yes, does this look like something that will work for you?"  She replies flatly, "No," and before I can ask what we could arrange she says, "but we'll see how it goes" or something to that effect.  Then she asserts that the one thing that she really will not be ok with is if I move her desk.  Generously, however, she offers that I am welcome to bring my own desk in if I'd like.  What a kind thought, I actually have the perfect desk laying around at home that I can bring over.  Oh wait, no, I work part time, just moved from New Mexico and the extent of furniture in my life is an air mattress and small metal shelves from Target.  Maybe I should suggest she buy me one as a welcome to Santa Rosa present.