So this post title may easily reveal my age, but what the heck? I've already entered the dark side of cyber literacy- why not go full throttle? Carol Burnett once uttered (followed surely by a chortle) that comedy is tragedy plus time. After seventeen tumultuous years in the classroom, this statement should by now be my mantra.
So, it is May and alas- the anticlimax of it all! In a matter of hours, the school year will be toast- we've all been counting down for this glorious moment since "Time's UP!" was proclaimed at the end of April's high stakes, high stress scantron bubblefest. ( At least that's what my scores seem to indicate what it was to a few students. *sigh*) It always seems that once state assessments leave the building, so do the inhabitants of the school building's fervor, and any trace left of motivation- for learning anyway. We all take a big breath and begin the downward spiral to the elusive final shrill of the last bell. Everyone looking forward to the days of "Summertime...and the livin' is eeeeaaasyyy". And yet, when all the papers settle and the traces of smelly preteen bodies waft lazily out the doors I can't help but feel such a strange sensation of, dare I say it? Emptiness. Every year affords me a few kindred spirits with whom I bond and say farewell to much in the same manner that a mother says to her child. (Lord help me, whatever will I do when my own flesh and blood spread their wings? Paging Dr. Flynn!) And every year the slight trace of thought crosses my consciousness- what if I am asked to move up a grade? Could I withstand another 180 days with Sir Taps His Pen A Lot, or Lady Long-Stare off into space? Probably not...most assuredly, NO. They all need a fresh start next year, as do I.
But as I walk out of our end of the year , district-wide "bread breaking" as our superintendent refers to it, there seems to be a tear or two welling in the ducts. Another year, and what do I have to show for it? Did I spend it wishing it away? Did I analyze the data? Did I make a difference to anyone? Is my worth judged solely by the result of the aforementioned state-administered scantron bubblefest? What will I do differently next year? Oh my Gawd- I'm already thinking about THAT and I haven't even pulled out of parking lot!
I've tried giving a little end of year anonymous survey to the kids- a la education service center style- but the results are so varied and inconclusive, it leaves me even more confused. I want to be an effective ed-u-ca-tor (snooty Ivy League and/or British voice), but oh the days of "Time to make the donuts." Even with a very supportive set of bosses who are always there to listen to the earth-shattering goings-on from my little corner of the universe on 505 W. Gayle Street in Edna Texas, I know deep down what happens in room 506 is ultimately up to me. (When I get a raise I am so buying the hot pink tee with the words Queen of My Classroom emblazoned on it). All this leads to further self-inquisition and reflection: How can I propagate a hunger for reading? What can I do to make the instruction learner-centered? How can I challenge these kids and still allow them success-prepare them for future learning, cover all the TEKS? And ultimately, how can I prepare these kids for what the state expects of them without incurring DEATH BY PASSAGES? Sigh...a big one.
Another question is usually, How would I feel if my own child was in my classroom? That question was somewhat answered this year as my very own Kendall joined me daily after lunch in 6th period. I cut her NO slack, I assure you. It was nice to have a little sounding board-even though it was instilled to me in college days to not think like a student- a little 12-year-old perspective and brutally honest opinion was quite insightful. We even planned a few activities together. And while I know she's fairly intelligent, I think I still managed to teach her a thing or two. That's actually a whole other post--back to the anticlimax business. I suppose, at the end of the day, er- year, what matters is that I not only ask those questions but attempt to incubate the thoughts that could answer them. Why, just today three of my kindred spirits who did not want to spend the last bit of the school day waiting for the bus in the throngs of the cafeteria sat down with me to talk about,well, school. They told of the horrifying warnings they had received about junior high in the previous grade and we had a good laugh about that. We talked about testing and how it differed this year. And I went out on a proverbial limb and asked, level of difficulty or vocabulary aside, if they felt PREPARED for the assessment. The nods and evidence of reassuring facials came..and empty I was not. Much akin to what the immortal Annie Sullivan, teacher of Helen Keller, said at the end of the day upon which Helen learned that everything had a name; " I thought my heart would burst, so full was it of joy." And just as Miss Sullivan had many years ahead of her teaching and guiding, God willing, so will I.
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