Hi Anneke,
Good that you recorded all that--great piece of art work. Such emotional turmoil--but I'm so impressed by your commitment to helping people when and if you can. The girl who is being bullied probably has a long history of it; perhaps you could talk to her alone and find out if she has someone in the school whom she trusts. Has your associate seen this in the (short) time before you arrived.
Kingston is bad enough for racist comments; I can't imagine what Sharbot Lake must be like. Both our "kids" (now 35 and 31) are adopted, born in Ottawa of immigrant parents--our son is black, our daughter's genes are half black, half white. Kingston has improved since they went to school, but when does a student in SL ever have a chance to see a black person. How did your roommate react to the story?
I applaud your sensitivity to these issues. It's even harder to know how to respond when you are relatively new and not staying very long. I hope you'll share more as these dramas unfold--and I do hope you're recovering emotionally--perhaps the long weekend will help.
Yours,
Tom
Sunday, February 20, 2011
Brokenness
Thursday was one of the most emotionally upsetting day of my teaching career so far. In one of my classes, a girl was having so much trouble with drawing in perspective, so that was no problem. I like perspective drawings - it's sort of like math. We were working out her drawing together. Then, while I was helping her, the other students at her table started blatantly bullying her right in front of me - shoving rulers into her forehead - really ignorant stuff. They stopped temporarily with a "Seriously?" from me, but my heart just broke for this girl. What can I do to help her be accepted in her class?
In another class, one of the students had requested that I bring in some of my art to show them. So as students were making art, I went around and brought the disengaged students over one at a time to see one of my paintings. It's a painting that I did in Grade 12 - I thought there would be a better connection with something that I did in highschool than one of my more recent works. It's called Breaking the Bars of AIDS.
It's a story of a boy whose parents have passed away from AIDS, represented in bone-like shapes on the red butterfly's right wing. The bars symbolize stigma in society against children of people with AIDS - here, my high school students connected best with the painting. They understood too well the unfairness of pain faced by a child because of choices their parents made. The left wing of the butterfly shows the boys future education flying away due to these stigmas. Yet there is a hole in the bars, symbolizing a hope for a way out of this tragic situation. Most of my students were really interested in seeing some of my work. It was neat to see the wheels going around in some of their heads thinking, "Maybe I could do real art in high school?".
Then the next slap in the face moment happened. One of my students made an extremely racist and hurtful comment about the boy in my painting. I was reeling. My housemate, and one of my best friends, is black. She's lost many of her aunts and uncles to AIDS. I know that I'm likely highly sheltered, but I've never run into racism like that before - it was like I was running into a brick wall at top speed and falling flat on my back with the wind knocked out of me. I didn't know what to say. I should have taken him to the principal on the spot. I still want to find a way for him to meet my housemate and learn that the horrible things he's learned from home about black people are simple not true. I really need to prepare a list of automatic responses to things like that, because I just wasn't prepared for that.
I returned to bopping around the art class, re-engaging students who were off task. I soon found one girl staring at the floor looking like she was going to cry. So I sat down on the floor where she was looking, and asked her what was going on. The story that unfolded broke my heart. So many things messed up and going wrong, and so few solutions that I could see. After we talked for a few minutes, I was able to set her up with a bit of charcoal to work on a drawing. She made a heart and then ripped her paper up. She told me on wednesday that she was quitting the class, but I hope she stays. I've just started to get to know her, and I know there is so much she could do with art. I know it could help her work through some of these challenges in life.
After school, I went to the mall. There was sale at Le Chateau, and I was hoping to pick up a dress for a wedding on Saturday. I was hungry, so I grabbed a salad at the food court, and looked for a place to have a quick dinner. I really don't like eating alone, so my general food court strategy to find a random person who is also sitting alone and join them for dinner. I saw a sweet looking older woman, and I asked if I could join her. I was just making conversation, so I asked her why she was at the mall. She told me she had grief counselling that evening, and she didn't want to go home because she knew if she went home she wouldn't bother cooking for herself, and she'd just end up over eating on junk food. She'd just lost her husband and one of her parents, her sister has breast cancer, and she is experiencing health problems from all the stress. It was good to be able to listen and offer some encouragement to this woman, but I am emotionally worn out.
Our world is so messed up, and I feel so powerless to piece it back together. These beautiful people are as fragile as eggshells, and they have been stepped on so many times. Is there a way I can return dignity to a girl who feels stupid and unwanted by her peers? Is the a way I can show a boy who has probably never even met a black person that racism is wrong and far from the truth? Is there a way I can help a girl piece together a life that is shattered in so many relational ways? Is there a way I can help a grieving woman get by? It feels like too big of a job. I know there's small things I can do to make things a little better than they were yesterday for these beautiful but broken people. But I can't fix everything, and that's really hard to accept.
In another class, one of the students had requested that I bring in some of my art to show them. So as students were making art, I went around and brought the disengaged students over one at a time to see one of my paintings. It's a painting that I did in Grade 12 - I thought there would be a better connection with something that I did in highschool than one of my more recent works. It's called Breaking the Bars of AIDS.
Then the next slap in the face moment happened. One of my students made an extremely racist and hurtful comment about the boy in my painting. I was reeling. My housemate, and one of my best friends, is black. She's lost many of her aunts and uncles to AIDS. I know that I'm likely highly sheltered, but I've never run into racism like that before - it was like I was running into a brick wall at top speed and falling flat on my back with the wind knocked out of me. I didn't know what to say. I should have taken him to the principal on the spot. I still want to find a way for him to meet my housemate and learn that the horrible things he's learned from home about black people are simple not true. I really need to prepare a list of automatic responses to things like that, because I just wasn't prepared for that.
I returned to bopping around the art class, re-engaging students who were off task. I soon found one girl staring at the floor looking like she was going to cry. So I sat down on the floor where she was looking, and asked her what was going on. The story that unfolded broke my heart. So many things messed up and going wrong, and so few solutions that I could see. After we talked for a few minutes, I was able to set her up with a bit of charcoal to work on a drawing. She made a heart and then ripped her paper up. She told me on wednesday that she was quitting the class, but I hope she stays. I've just started to get to know her, and I know there is so much she could do with art. I know it could help her work through some of these challenges in life.
After school, I went to the mall. There was sale at Le Chateau, and I was hoping to pick up a dress for a wedding on Saturday. I was hungry, so I grabbed a salad at the food court, and looked for a place to have a quick dinner. I really don't like eating alone, so my general food court strategy to find a random person who is also sitting alone and join them for dinner. I saw a sweet looking older woman, and I asked if I could join her. I was just making conversation, so I asked her why she was at the mall. She told me she had grief counselling that evening, and she didn't want to go home because she knew if she went home she wouldn't bother cooking for herself, and she'd just end up over eating on junk food. She'd just lost her husband and one of her parents, her sister has breast cancer, and she is experiencing health problems from all the stress. It was good to be able to listen and offer some encouragement to this woman, but I am emotionally worn out.
Our world is so messed up, and I feel so powerless to piece it back together. These beautiful people are as fragile as eggshells, and they have been stepped on so many times. Is there a way I can return dignity to a girl who feels stupid and unwanted by her peers? Is the a way I can show a boy who has probably never even met a black person that racism is wrong and far from the truth? Is there a way I can help a girl piece together a life that is shattered in so many relational ways? Is there a way I can help a grieving woman get by? It feels like too big of a job. I know there's small things I can do to make things a little better than they were yesterday for these beautiful but broken people. But I can't fix everything, and that's really hard to accept.
Thursday, February 17, 2011
Putting a spin on teaching
Wonderful reading, Anneke!! You've discovered (probably not the first time) how quickly teaching can be come discouraging, even to the point of "I'm a failure." It's torture to toss and turn all night thinking, but it pays off. What a brilliant idea you had (I was pretty confident that something good was waiting for me as I continued to read!)!! And how good it is that you can combine physics with art, art with physics (colour!!).
Yes, Grade 9s (and 10s) can be very very frustrating. You certainly seem to be showing that you can be very successful at turning around a frustrating situation.
Love your writing!!
Tom
Yes, Grade 9s (and 10s) can be very very frustrating. You certainly seem to be showing that you can be very successful at turning around a frustrating situation.
Love your writing!!
Tom
Classroom Management and Singing Bowls
Oh Grade 9. By the end of each day, I am so exhausted, and then I teach Grade 9 Art. They are good kids at heart, but it is a crazy class. Yesterday, one boy was trying to light his painting on fire with his lighter while a girl was constantly on the wander out of class. Another boy crumpled his drawing and stormed out of class in anger. And I was feeling like a failure of a teacher.
I was to teach my first lesson with these kids today, and I couldn’t sleep last night worrying about it. Last night, I bought myself a singing bowl because I love them and I had a hope that it could be useful for classroom management. So today, I came into the room early and rearranged all the chairs. I set up a theatre-style seating around a 2 meter version of the Voice of Fire that two of the boys in the class had painting on Monday and Tuesday without fully understanding what they were creating. I turned off the lights and put a spotlight on the painting.
The students walked in. They were thrown off for sure. I felt badly, because I knew the change in routine would be tough on my two students with autism, and they were a bit thrown off, but adjusted within the first three minutes. But the exciting thing is, that for the students who were causing issues yesterday, it actually worked. There was a sense in the class that something special was going to happen. They sat down in the seats with a reasonable level of chattiness, and a good expectant atmosphere. I started to play the singing bowl. At first, they didn’t really notice, but as the resonance grew, they started to listen. It was mesmerizing. A few asked “What is that thing?”, but most just turned and watched it intently. My most obstinate student complained that it hurt her ears, but she was still starring closely at it, and there was a glint of curiosity in her eyes. I explained briefly the Physics of the bowl, and told them that we would be using the bowl as a means to get the class’ attention when I needed to say something to all of them.
We then looked at the Voice of Fire. I was so relieved and glad to see most of them – students who have the attention span of a mosquito – actually looking intently at a painting. And about half of them saw the “fire” in the painting which was really exciting. We then launched into group paintings. My most obstinate student must have been on a role for the day – she actually put paint on a canvas! Things are looking up! We’ll see how tomorrow goes…
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
Winner takes all
You certainly do write winning messages, Anneke. VERY impressive, you've thought about it from so many different angles!!
I expect there is a huge range of reactions among students--given the way you made me think of so many possibilities. I'm sure that some are like you, but others probably cope in other ways with not winning.
My biggest reaction is that we should find a way to have competitions without medals. Maybe for something like public speaking, we could have many different criteria and pick a different person as best on each of the many criteria but don't pick an overall winner (and, by default, a bunch of losers).
It's a complex issue because many, like you, do achieve a higher standard because of the competition.
The idea of gold, silver and bronze is pretty deeply embedded in our culture (Olympics! and elsewhere) but I'm glad that you are at least one person who is so very thoughtful about the complex issues involved!
THANKS
Tom
I expect there is a huge range of reactions among students--given the way you made me think of so many possibilities. I'm sure that some are like you, but others probably cope in other ways with not winning.
My biggest reaction is that we should find a way to have competitions without medals. Maybe for something like public speaking, we could have many different criteria and pick a different person as best on each of the many criteria but don't pick an overall winner (and, by default, a bunch of losers).
It's a complex issue because many, like you, do achieve a higher standard because of the competition.
The idea of gold, silver and bronze is pretty deeply embedded in our culture (Olympics! and elsewhere) but I'm glad that you are at least one person who is so very thoughtful about the complex issues involved!
THANKS
Tom
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
The Judge.
I remember being a little Grade 5 student, standing up in front on the large audience at our local legion, giving my speech on how much I love day dreaming. I looked at that row of judges with fear - the ranking they gave me was the ultimate authority. In my head, the word of the judges was the official decision on my future as a public speaker. I was terrified.
This morning, I was sitting on the other side of that table, wondering if the judges who ranked me felt as unqualified as I do. How in the world can I rank twelve wonderful creative speeches - all of which are so different, have different areas to improve, and different areas that are done really well? The hardest part was seeing the disappointed faces of the students who put in hours of work, delivered amazing speeches, and yet didn't win. I want to tell them, "These medals don't count like you think they do! I'm just a random person - I'm certainly not the ultimate authority on your speaking abilities. Not taking home a medal doesn't mean anything - your speech was still more than excellent: you had me on my toes in suspense; you had me thinking seriously about our dark history; you had me laughing; you downright amazed me with your maturity, skill and effort." But I know that most students won't read the feedback that I scrawled all over the assessment forms. It's those ridiculous gold, silver and bronze medal that means something to many kids, not some flowery "everyone's a winner" comment during the awards ceremony.
I am stuck. I don't know what the solution is. I know that competition did drive me to work harder - my lovely grandma, who truly is the sweetest woman you could ever meet but likes a bit of competition herself, was always waiting and hoping for me to get the gold medal in high school every year when I kept coming in second place. Looking back, I think I put some ridiculous stresses on myself trying to do better and better, but I would never have achieved the marks that got me scholarships to afford university without that pressure of competition. Yet, what about the kids who get 93.6% when the bronze medalist achieved 93.7%? What about the vast majority of kids who never win, but are always just the runner up? Competition and ranking treats these students so harshly. As Abba would say, "the winner takes it all" - even when the winner doesn't necessarily want to take anything away from their peers.
Maybe today's students are smarter than I was. Maybe they will read and actually believe the encouraging feedback I wrote them. Maybe they won't feel like a failure when they see the medals around their friend's necks, but not their own. Maybe they've figured out that a verdict from a random judge like me doesn't mean anything for their future. But those disappointed faces and the unwillingness to look me in eye after the event makes me worry that maybe these kids are just like me.
This morning, I was sitting on the other side of that table, wondering if the judges who ranked me felt as unqualified as I do. How in the world can I rank twelve wonderful creative speeches - all of which are so different, have different areas to improve, and different areas that are done really well? The hardest part was seeing the disappointed faces of the students who put in hours of work, delivered amazing speeches, and yet didn't win. I want to tell them, "These medals don't count like you think they do! I'm just a random person - I'm certainly not the ultimate authority on your speaking abilities. Not taking home a medal doesn't mean anything - your speech was still more than excellent: you had me on my toes in suspense; you had me thinking seriously about our dark history; you had me laughing; you downright amazed me with your maturity, skill and effort." But I know that most students won't read the feedback that I scrawled all over the assessment forms. It's those ridiculous gold, silver and bronze medal that means something to many kids, not some flowery "everyone's a winner" comment during the awards ceremony.
I am stuck. I don't know what the solution is. I know that competition did drive me to work harder - my lovely grandma, who truly is the sweetest woman you could ever meet but likes a bit of competition herself, was always waiting and hoping for me to get the gold medal in high school every year when I kept coming in second place. Looking back, I think I put some ridiculous stresses on myself trying to do better and better, but I would never have achieved the marks that got me scholarships to afford university without that pressure of competition. Yet, what about the kids who get 93.6% when the bronze medalist achieved 93.7%? What about the vast majority of kids who never win, but are always just the runner up? Competition and ranking treats these students so harshly. As Abba would say, "the winner takes it all" - even when the winner doesn't necessarily want to take anything away from their peers.
Maybe today's students are smarter than I was. Maybe they will read and actually believe the encouraging feedback I wrote them. Maybe they won't feel like a failure when they see the medals around their friend's necks, but not their own. Maybe they've figured out that a verdict from a random judge like me doesn't mean anything for their future. But those disappointed faces and the unwillingness to look me in eye after the event makes me worry that maybe these kids are just like me.
Thursday, February 3, 2011
Excitement and Chaos
What a treat it must have been to run into your next Associate Teacher! Thanks for sharing the excitement with me--you have landed at a great school and it's good that you can see why it is so great.
I appreciate your listing all the things that seem to be pulling you in all directions. It is definitely a chaotic time of year. (Part of me wishes we could leave the pressures of finding a job until April... it's so important, yet it does also detract from the focus of learning how to teach!)
I really look forward to reading about your work in art at SLHS!
Tom
I appreciate your listing all the things that seem to be pulling you in all directions. It is definitely a chaotic time of year. (Part of me wishes we could leave the pressures of finding a job until April... it's so important, yet it does also detract from the focus of learning how to teach!)
I really look forward to reading about your work in art at SLHS!
Tom
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
Two More Weeks...
I bumped into my new associate at Wallacks yesterday! The giant tubs of deliciously coloured acrylic paint in his basket made me so excited to go on placement again on Feb. 14 - it's bound to be a lovely placement with that start date.
I'm both excited and scared for this last regular placement. There is so much to do - it's rather overwhelming - planning for my alternative practicum in Kenya, applying for jobs for next year all over the world, trying to navigate the confusing paperwork of OSSTF, OCT, and other scary looking acronyms, keeping track of all the little assignments due in class, volunteering with my favourite organizations, and somewhere in there I'm trying to remember to sleep, eat and have healthy relationships. It's already so busy - how will I squash all those things to be done into the short amount of time between 7pm when I get home from school and 5:30am when I get up the next morning?
But despite my time fears, I am very very excited for this next placement. I really don't know how I ended up with the best associate school ever - the students are just great, down-to-earth, ask the best questions, and remind me so much of my rural childhood; there are some amazingly talented teachers who are so willing to teach me, even when I'm not technically their student teacher; the class sizes are tiny; there's awesome integration of students with exceptionalities into my art classes; and the list goes on. It's just a wonderful environment to learn how to teach in, and I can't wait to be back there!
I'm both excited and scared for this last regular placement. There is so much to do - it's rather overwhelming - planning for my alternative practicum in Kenya, applying for jobs for next year all over the world, trying to navigate the confusing paperwork of OSSTF, OCT, and other scary looking acronyms, keeping track of all the little assignments due in class, volunteering with my favourite organizations, and somewhere in there I'm trying to remember to sleep, eat and have healthy relationships. It's already so busy - how will I squash all those things to be done into the short amount of time between 7pm when I get home from school and 5:30am when I get up the next morning?
But despite my time fears, I am very very excited for this next placement. I really don't know how I ended up with the best associate school ever - the students are just great, down-to-earth, ask the best questions, and remind me so much of my rural childhood; there are some amazingly talented teachers who are so willing to teach me, even when I'm not technically their student teacher; the class sizes are tiny; there's awesome integration of students with exceptionalities into my art classes; and the list goes on. It's just a wonderful environment to learn how to teach in, and I can't wait to be back there!
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