Los profesores aquí

Day 29 of 31 at TWT!

Today is the third and final snapshot in my mini-series of posts about A., my most special student ever.  Earlier this week, I shared her background story, the first snapshot, and the second snapshot.

After I found out that A. was undocumented, I worried about her constantly.  (Sometimes I still worry, and it's been several years!)  When she was absent (which was rare), I immediately started to panic: what if she... or her mom... or both had been deported?  But the next day always brought a sigh of relief: her bright smile was there to greet me again.  Every day is probably a gift to her and her mom...

I later found out (accidentally) that A. hadn't told anyone else she was here illegally.  She had told me so casually that it hadn't occurred to me that she hadn't also told the bilingual aide and the other ESL teacher!  I knew we had a close relationship, but I didn't realize until that moment how absolutely she trusted me.

But today's story isn't about A.'s struggles like the other two snapshots were.  At least, not completely.  Today's story is ultimately a happy one because of what it says about teachers in my district.

One day in first period, A. and I started talking about the other schools she had been to.  I learned that she had bounced around even more than I had thought:
                from the first school she attended in our district
                          to a different school in the large urban district bordering our town
 back to the first school she attended in our district
                                              until she finally wound up at School #3 with me.

When I asked her if she liked this school and what she thought of the other schools, she gave me the greatest compliment a student can give a school: "Los profesores aquí se preocupan por los estudiantes." (Teachers here care about the students.")  She then went on to explain that when she was at the school in the large urban district, the teachers didn't pay any attention to her.  She just sat all day, drowning in English, with nobody to help her.  How awful.  Maybe they didn't know what to do with her.  Maybe there weren't enough bilingual aides.  Not a favorable review of the large urban district.  But in our district, she felt a difference.  That's probably why her mom worked so hard to try to move back here...


She felt like we cared.  And we did.  So much that I was truly devastated when the last day of school came, knowing that she'd move onto high school and I'd probably never see her again.  I've been sad to part with other students before and since, but the hole they leave in my heart is basically refilled by new students who are just as fun, energetic, special, and kind.

A. left a different kind of impact though: a whole new story to carry with me. I carry her story of hardship and hope, and it makes me a better teacher and a better person.

Eso fue muy feo

Day 28 of 31 at TWT!

Today is the second snapshot in my mini-series of posts about A., my most special student ever.  Earlier this week, I shared the background story and the first snapshot.

It was just a regular day; I had helped A. in first and second period, and then she begged me to come to art as well.  As we walked to art, we chatted in Spanish, and A. brought up her future plans.  She shared that she really wanted to go to college, and I assured her that she would do great in college, given how hard-working and studious she was.  Shrugging, she said she didn't know if she'd be able to go.  Probably money?  I started talking about scholarships when she interrupted me:

"Porque yo soy ilegal."  She said it so nonchalantly, as if she was saying "because I have black hair" or "because I'm wearing a blue shirt."  Outwardly, I didn't miss a beat.  "I know there are some colleges in California that accept illegal immigrants..." I read that somewhere, where did I read that?  "And I think President Obama is working to make it easier in more states..." I don't know much about this, I'm going to have to find out more...

Inside, my heart was pounding and my head was spinning.  What did she have to go through to get here?  Was she stuffed in the false bed of a truck or the trunk of a car or something even worse?  Did she have to hike through the desert?  Did she do it with family or friends or alone?  Despite all the "wonders" bouncing around in my head, I didn't want to make a big deal about it if she didn't.

A few days later, the subject came up again in first period.  Dying of curiosity, I decided to ask how she got here. She looked down. "Uf... Eso fue muy feo." ("Ooh... that was very ugly.")  I didn't press it.

But through our conversations over the next several weeks, she shared bits and pieces of memories that helped me patch together a rough picture of her life:
                 When she got to the U.S., a kind lady
                 took her and a friend to McDonald's,
                 where they stuffed themselves because
                 they were "very weak, pale, and skinny"
                 from the journey. (Must have been really
                 rough and must have taken a long time...)
                                                           Her parents, who were separated, (and
                                                           used to yell at each other a lot when they
                                                           all lived together in Mexico) were
                                                           already here in the U.S. for some time.
                                                           (Mom here, Dad in Colorado.) (How long
                                                           has it been since she saw her dad?)
                While she lived in Mexico and her parents
                 were here, she and her little sister lived with
                 their grandmother, who "mistreated" them.
                 (Mistreated? How?  I didn't want to ask.)
                                                           Her little sister still lived (at the time)
                                                           in Mexico with the grandmother.
                                                           (How awful to be separated from 
                                                           your parents and then from your sister...
                                                           Was the sister still being mistreated?)
                  Her mom had a new boyfriend here, from
                  Colombia, and they lived (at the time) with him.
                  (Is he a U.S. citizen?  How did they get an 
                   apartment? Is their legal status part of why
                   they've had to move so many times recently?)
                                                           Her mom worked in housekeeping
                                                           at a local hotel. (What if she's deported
                                                           some day while A.'s here at school?)
                 After hopefully going to college in the U.S.,
                 A.'s dream was to move back home to Mexico,
                 where she'd then be able to get an excellent job
                  because of knowing English.
                 (I wish all the people who claim illegal immigrants
                 want to steal our jobs could hear this...)
                                                           A few months ago, several girls attacked
                                                           A. while she was walking home.  She
                                                           had to fight back, and although she told
                                                           her mom, they knew they couldn't call
                                                           the police for fear of being deported.
                                                           (I can't imagine feeling like you can't 
                                                            call for help...)

All that, and she was only in 8th grade.  All that, and she came to school every day with a smile on her face, eager to work hard and learn while surrounded by a language she didn't know.  Now I knew the source of her determination: she had a clearer plan for her future than most students her age, and she knew that doing well in school was the path to achieving her goals. At her age, I was riding bikes and playing with friends and breezing through school without a care in the world except getting some boy to like me...

Now I didn't just care about her.  I admired her.  She wasn't just a wonderful student.  She was an amazing person.

Hay muchos racistas aquí

Day 27 of 31 at TWT!

Yesterday, I gave you a preview of A., the student I'm highlighting as my "magical teaching moment" for 30 Goals.  Today, I want to share the first of several snapshots to show you what a truly special student she was.  These moments are not academic, but are conversations that deepened our relationship and helped me grow as a teacher and as a person.

It's the beginning of first period and A. and I are chatting about school and life, still getting to know each other.  Suddenly, she makes a comment that shoots straight to my heart:
"Hay muchos racistas aquí."
"Really?  I don't know about that..." I try to reassure her and myself. (I really didn't know what to say!) "What makes you feel that way?"

Lots of racists here? The town where I teach is my hometown and I love it.  I've lived there since I was two and I'm so proud to have gone there K-12.  We have high-achieving schools and a beautiful, wonderful community.  If I had to characterize our students and their families, I'd say they are kind, caring, and polite, while somewhat entitled in certain parts of town.  Maybe she misunderstood someone...

But she goes on and I realize that she hasn't encountered the same side of people that I know.  She describes how she got into a fight (and got suspended for 3 days!) in the school she came from (also part of our district, just on the other side of town).  A fight? Cheery, studious A.?  Some girls kept yelling at her in the hallway to go back to Mexico.  "I just couldn't help my self, the rage just boiled up in me..." she explains.   I know that many of these kids' opinions are formed by what they hear at home, what they see on T.V., what their friends say and do.  I know that teenage girls are mean sometimes.  But it really hits me hard to think of students in our town saying that to someone.

She keeps going.  She tells me how some girls at her table in art class insult Mexicans.  "I don't know everything they're saying, but I know they are talking about me and I know they are saying bad things about Mexico." I guess there's more than one reason she always wants me to come to art. I know there's a chance she's being paranoid, but I also know that sometimes, you can understand perfectly that someone is making fun of you, without hearing a word they say.  I'll have to talk to the art teacher...

So I let her know I understand how awful that must feel, but I also explain that those kids shouldn't represent our town or all Americans to her, that there are lots of good people who are kind to everyone.  "I know," she says, and grins, with what I'll come to think of as her trademark phrase: "Usted es buena gente." ("You are a good person.") I love when she says that, but it also makes me sad.  It shows that she's met plenty of people who aren't.

Several weeks later, the racism topic makes a sad return.  It's Spirit Week, and Friday is Jersey Day.  At first, A. is really excited about wearing her Mexico soccer jersey.  I feed her excitement, explaining how much fun it will be to see what teams everyone is proud of!  Midweek, she starts to waffle.  "There are so many racists here. I shouldn't wear it."  I try to encourage her that she shouldn't feel the need to hide who she is.  She should show her pride in her country and it could be a way to teach the other students.  Now that they know her, they might be curious about Mexico and want to ask her questions.  Maybe other students who like soccer might want to be friends with her!  She shrugs, obviously not so sure.

On Friday morning, I race down to first period, hoping to be greeted by some red, white, and green.  But A.'s just wearing a regular shirt.  "You should've worn your jersey!" I playfully scold.  "No, I didn't want to..."  Except I know that's not true.  I remember how excited she was on Monday, before the fear crept in.  I feel a lump in my throat and a pit in my stomach.  Hatred and fear have overcome hope and pride... for now.

This is why I teach: to build a better future.  A future where A. wouldn't think twice about proudly wearing her Mexico jersey to school... even if it wasn't Jersey Day!

30 Goals 2: My Magical Teaching Moment

Day 26 of 31 at TWT!

One of my favorite things about School #3 is that I get to spend part of my day helping teach ELLs.  This year, I'm co-teaching a mixed-grade "welcome center" class for some of the newest ELLs, who have been in the U.S. one year or less.  I absolutely love this opportunity to work with these sweet, motivated students and hone my TESOL skills while learning from an experienced teacher.  Unfortunately for me, all these students are Japanese this year, so my Spanish doesn't help!

My first year in this position, there was a Spanish-speaking student who had arrived at School #3 just before I did.  I was excited to use my Spanish to help her, but I couldn't have imagined the ways she would change me.  Out of the thousands of students I've had, she is the one I think of the most often, the one that I wonder and worry and hope about frequently.

When I read that Goal #2 of the 30 Goals Challenge was to describe a magical teaching moment, I knew I had to write about her. But we had so many "magical teaching moments" that I didn't know where to start.  I kept putting it off because I knew that it would take several posts to capture who she is and how we learned from each other that spring.  Now that I'm at School #3, walking the hallways that we'd walk together, I know it's time to tell her story.

I'm going to call her "A".  That's not even her real initial, but I want to protect her completely.  So, "A" for "anónima", but also for "amable", "audaz", "agradable", "admirable"... and so much more.

Originally, I was going to help with an ELL study center that spring for one period.  A. had just arrived at School #3 after short stints at several other schools in the area; she had been in the U.S. for about 6 months.  Due to bouncing between schools and a complete lack of prior experience with English, she was basically a complete newcomer.  Imagine being plopped into a foreign country with no knowledge of the language and trying to learn 8th-grade-level math, science, and social studies while also learning the language.  Oh and while you're doing that, your family has to move several times in the first six months, causing you to change schools at least three times.

Sadly, the Spanish bilingual aide only came to School #3 three days a week, and of course he had to help other students too!  To help keep A. afloat, I started going to her first period class (reading) during my planning period on Tuesdays and Thursdays.  Right away, we hit it off as we chatted a little in Spanish about our lives.  I gently helped her through simple picture books, using lots of Spanish to check and develop her comprehension.  We laughed together when I couldn't think of a word in Spanish and had to resort to circumlocution and sometimes terrible pantomiming and drawing.  We giggled together when she'd make a pronunciation error while reading aloud and I'd show her the difference.

Tuesdays and Thursdays became every day.  Two periods straight of chatting and reading and laughing and learning, since we'd go directly from 1st period to the ELL study center I was originally supposed to help with.  My planning period was now gone; reduced to the random 20-minute break I had between study center and lunch.  I didn't care.  A. was bright, hard-working, enthusiastic, and fun to teach.

Then one day at the end of study center, A. turned to me with puppy-dog eyes.
    "Will you come with me to art?"
    Art?  What could she need me for in art?  "Do you really need help?"
    "Oh yes, the teacher is explaining some project and I don't understand it at all."

So I went to art.  It was more complicated than I thought.  Moreover, I discovered that the teacher didn't really know what to do with the ELLs or how to explain things to them.  I stayed for the 20 random free minutes I had left in my day, explaining the project to A. and two other ELLs before running off to scarf down my lunch.  But I loved it.

Goodbye planning time.  Hello life-changing teaching experience...

That was just the beginning.  Tune in the next few days for a peek at the real "magical teaching moments" that A. gave me.

30 Goals 1: My Teaching Philosophy

Earlier this year I read about the 30 Goals Challenge on Teacher Reboot Camp. I waffled between "THIRTY goals?!  That's so maannnny!" to "Cool, maybe I'll try it!" and back again.

When the first goal was posted, I was super busy with schoolwork (well, when am I NOT busy with schoolwork?) and it sounded like way too much work.  A video, poster, or presentation about my teaching philosophy?  Sounds like a grad school assignment!  I don't have time for that!  Maybe I'll see what the next one is... Besides, I already write a lot of posts that give peeks into what I believe about language teaching and teaching in general.


However, around that time, I read Brad at Edulang's challenge to post a quotation that defines your teaching.  Awesome!  I LOVE quotations.  Of course, I love them so much that I couldn't possibly pick just one... so I held off on that too.  I eventually came back to it about a week later and managed to narrow it down to two, which I just posted by commenting because I was too lazy/busy/tired to write a whole blog post about them:

1. "The greatest gift one can give to another person is a deeper understanding of life and the ability to love and believe in the self."  (Fred Rogers)
2. "You must get your living by loving, or at least half your life is a failure." (Henry David Thoreau)

Perhaps someday I'll get around to sharing some more of my favorite quotations.

Then the second goal of the 30 goals came.  Highlight a favorite inspiring teaching moment?  Powerful.  That really spoke to me.  Haven't done it yet, but it really got me thinking.  I know just what to write about -- that amazing girl. The one where I wish I would've been blogging while I worked with her because those few months were the most incredible teaching moments I've ever had.  Of course, that's a daunting task.  I just have so much to say about her. So of course, I haven't done it yet.

Still, she's been sitting in the back of my mind, bugging me to try out the 30 goals and get going.  So here I am today with Goal 1: My Me Manifesto.  I'm too much of a writer and perfectionist to really be able to write out or visually display everything I believe about teaching (at least, without spending inordinate amounts of time and energy!), so I decided to make it short and sweet by making a word cloud:

(view larger here at Wordle!)

I don't know if I'll ever get to the other 28, because that next goal is going to take a while.  I could probably write a book about my experience with R. and everything she taught me about life and teaching.  However, I'm looking forward to writing at least one post, or perhaps several, on my Magical Teaching Moment!

Until then... What are the major anchors of your teaching philosophy? Do you relate to mine?

Has anyone tried or completed 30 Goals in the past?  Are you thinking of jumping in this year?  We can give it a try together!