curryed away Curryed Away: Carrying Curry Education Away and Into the Classroom

I’ve been having a problem with social media lately. Like most individuals in my age group, I have a facebook account. And like all good Curry grads, my settings are up so high that you can’t see anything about me unless you’re my friend. My students haven’t looked for me (to my knowledge) or tried to friend me, and I intend to keep it that way. My primary use for facebook is to post interesting articles that I’ve read, and to communicate with friends and family back in the States (for which it has been invaluable). However, I always find myself pausing whenever I want to post about work on facebook (and on this blog, for that matter).

Social media is an outlet for people to celebrate, publicize, and seek help for issues in their lives. My life is teaching, so naturally I want to post about my teaching, including both the ups and downs. But with recent incidences like an Ohio math teacher getting suspended for posting a picture of her kids with duct tape on their mouths and other stories I’ve heard of teachers getting fired over facebook posts, I’m loath to even post a comment seeking advice for how to get my kids to keep quiet and focus on a lesson! And unfortunately, this has got me feeling a bit confused as to what to do, but also very alone in my profession. Because unless I tell someone about my problem face-to-face (which implies that I can find a good confidant even though I’m an ocean away from all my Curry professors and friends), then I’d better keep my public, online mouth shut (so to speak).

And so this has all got me thinking: Where is the line between “productive sharing” and sharing too much? 

What do I mean by productive sharing? In my Curry class on Contemporary Issues in Education, we read a book called Teaching 2030 that suggested that teachers could use technology to build their professional learning networks or guilds in an effort to become “teacherpreneurs”. What I imagined, then, was being able to ask my network everything from how to effectively teach conjunctions to how to get a group of energetic sixth graders to buckle down and pay attention for 50 minutes.

However, I don’t foresee that happening when any relatively negative comment I have (like the Ohio teacher’s ”Finally found a way to get them to be quiet!!!”) could be used against me on any public, online platforms. I could keep my comments all positive, like “how great it is that Johnny finally learned the difference between an adverb and an adjective” or that “I shared a heart-warming moment with my homeroom over cookies”. Unfortunately, all of that just seems so false.

The truth of the matter is that teaching is hard, and if you’re lucky, you’ll have a few heartwarming moments in your day to balance out or (if you’re lucky) erase the frustrating, mind-boggling, and tear-your-hair-out moments. It also feels so incredibly false to only talk about the good stuff, as if I would be perpetuating every Hollywood myth that teaching is like Dead Poets Society and Stand and Deliver. Parents (and administrators) should know that teaching their children isn’t always a treat. I believe that suggestion cheapens both my job and shortchanges the child.

I suppose in this sense, it’s a bit like parenting these days. People always tell you to have children because the good moments outweigh the bad. They never talk about what happens when your child ends up less than perfect. I’m thinking here of We Need to Talk About Kevin — an excellent book that I actually got to read for fun (gasp!) over the winter holiday — and of the woman who got lambasted by social networking sites after she compared her son to Adam Lanza, the Newtown, CT shooter, in her blog. After all, children are innocence incarnate, according to those wonderful Romantic poets William Blake and William Wordsworth, and it seems to be an idea that we’ve held on to since then. To imply otherwise makes one cynical (as I might be) or a monster (as the post-CT blogger was called). Perhaps I’m taking this a bit too far, but it would be interesting to compare the number of positive media portrayals of children against the negatives, and see how this affects the attitude of the generation of parents-to-be.

What, then, is the real problem? Is the problem that some people (and teachers in particular) don’t know where to draw the line when it comes to sharing about their workplace? Or is the problem something deeper: that we don’t want to deal with the negative aspects of children, especially in school?

What do you think?

One of the things that I feel my school does really well is student travel. It’s pretty much engrained in the curriculum.

For example, at the beginning of every year the 6, 7, and 8th graders go on a two day trip. The point as far as I can tell is to foster a community feeling about the teachers and students and to give them experiences outside of the classroom. They will take a longer trip at the end of the year as well, along with the 9, 10, 11, and 12th graders. This is in addition to the day trips that various teachers take them on, and trips they go on for sports.

I just got back from a four day trip with the 12th graders to Berlin. The purpose was for them to give their final class presentations and add a sense of weight to them by having the presentations done outside of school. Of course we got to tour the city, as well, which was great for the international kids (and me) who had never been to the country’s capital before.

There are two separate ideas here about student travel that I like. The first is using student travel to build experience and foster a community atmosphere. I loved being able to get to know my 8th graders outside of school. I think it reflects this idea that school is about learning both in- and outside of the classroom (though this theme could certainly be carried through the school year a bit better). It also reminds us of the importance of getting out, experiencing new things, and challenging our comfort zones (we went on a ropes course at the beginning of the year!).

The second idea is using student travel to add weight to assignments. Instead of presenting papers or debates in the school gym for the umpteenth time, how cool is it to get out of town and make your presentation in the nation’s capital? This purpose may be a bit of a stretch, but I think it’s worth exploring the way that travel can aid in the motivation that students have for learning.

Of course I say all this with the disclaimer that I work at a private school in Europe. Students pay a lot of money to go here, and that money funds the trips. I saw a similar phenomenon when I worked for a student travel company. The kids who got to go on our big, cross-country, educational trips were the ones with teachers who could organize the kids and who had enough money from their parents to go. It’s also somewhat easier to cross a border in Europe than it is in say mid-Western America. 

But I don’t think these students are the only ones who should have that opportunity. I’m thinking now about The Freedom Writers Diary. No matter what you think of the book (and I have a lot of mixed feelings about it), Erin Gruwell described the amazing effect travel had on her students by getting them out of their school and their neighborhoods and showing them another part of their world. She organized smaller “trips”, like dinners at nearby hotels, and longer trips to Washington, D.C. and NYC. These experiences helped to challenge their assumptions about their world and their school, which helped to broaden their horizons. I still remember my school trips to an old homestead/museum where we made butter ourselves, and to a French restaurant at which I got to practice my French and immerse myself in cuisine. These little trips helped to reinforce my learning, while the big ones to D.C., NYC, and even Paris showed me new ways of life that challenged my preconceived notions about people and nations.

I realize that in the grand scheme of education, student travel falls somewhere below the arts and languages on the priority scale. But if the benefits can be so great, then shouldn’t we make student travel a priority rather than a luxury in education?

How do we deal with the “kids who can’t learn”? This is a question that I’ve been asking myself a lot lately.

In the States, I spent my student teaching in a “collaborative classroom”. This was where the school (or society?) put the kids with learning and behavioral disabilities who needed extra attention and remedial reading and writing instruction. At the time, I hated this form of “tracking”. However, now that I’ve started my first year of teaching, I can appreciate how hard it would be to try to deal with these students and with my “at-level” or even “gifted” kids all in the same room. Hard? Yes. Impossible? Certainly not (with support or changes to the way schools function).

At my current school we do things a little differently. Because of my experiences student teaching, I was handing one “SAP” class this year. SAP stands for Student Assistance Program (although my students fondly call it “Super Awesome People”). Because the school is so small, I only have a handful of students with minor problems (I say this in comparison to my kids last year) ranging from ADHD to mild Autism. We meet between two and four times a week, and I try to provide them with extra support on assignments and other “good student” skills.

However, something has been irking me about the way the class is set up. Usually I spend so much time trying to get them to sit still and work on assignments that were due three weeks ago, that I never get time to review the essay writing skills needed for the upcoming assignment or the organization and planning skills that they all so desperately lack. I also spend a good deal of my time supporting subjects like science and math, which, let’s face it, is not ideal coming from an English teacher. I really love my kids and I love helping them, but isn’t there a better way?

Here are a few of the questions that I’ve been struggling with:

  • Why does the education system feel the need to stick all the “struggling” kids in the same room, and tell one teacher to help them?
  • Why not give them extra tutoring time with their subject area teachers or even with their gifted peers?
  • What message do we send to these kids when we take them out of other subject classes and stick them all in a room together? And what affect does this have on their self-esteem and motivation after 1, 3, 5, even 10 years?
  • Are we really being responsible educators by pushing them to learn information exactly when and how we tell them to, always pushing them on to the next grade and through the assembly line, instead of making accommodations?

 
What have your experiences been? Or do you have any answers to these questions?

What is school for?

This is the question that Seth Godin asks in Stop Stealing Dreams. Godin, an American entrepreneur and author, describes what school was for  (mostly what we learn in Curry’s “Issues in Education” class) and what school should be for in this 125-page manifesto. Best of all, he’s made it free to read and share in whatever format you choose.

The basic gist of his manifesto is that school was an assembly line created to churn out factory workers and office drones. However, these jobs are disappearing. What our businesses and our economy needs are cooperative, inventive thinkers who can function without a manager breathing down their necks in a job that may not have a clear description. For the first time in history, we don’t need people telling us how to do things, because we have the internet that puts information at our fingertips. Thus, there is no longer any value to rote memorization. What we need are flexible schools that cater education to the student, and teachers who act as guides by helping students access information. School should  be a place where students are encouraged to discover information based on their interests and at their own pace. School work should encourage collaboration and cooperation, instead of the individual, because that’s exactly what we ask employees to do in the real world. Thus instead of measuring test scores and checking off multiple choice questions, schools need to start measuring experience as an indication of student success.

Perhaps the idea that I connected with the most is the myth that great performance in school leads to happiness and success. I experienced this myself on making the transition from high school to college. I played by the rules, I graduated 4th or 5th in my class, but I didn’t get a free ride to college like I’d imagined. Not only that, but after doing well in college and paying my way through by waitressing, there was no job just waiting for me at the other end. This may have been true a generation ago, but it’s no longer the case today.

I believe that we as a society and as educators set up some very unreal expectations for our students, and I see the harm it causes everyday in my students. Just last week I spent 45 minutes explaining to a student why he didn’t get an A on his first paper of the term. He was very distraught, so I asked him, “Why do you want to be a better writer?” He responded that he wanted to get good grades. Frustrated, I asked, “What I’m getting at is: What do you want to do when you grow up?” He told me that he wanted to retire when he was 55 and have a family. When I pressed him further, he replied, “I want to do something worthwhile.” When I asked what, he had no answer. I found this encounter very disheartening. Our students are so trained to get the good grade, that they miss what it’s all for. And that’s the underlying message that our schools are sending them.

In the words of Seth Godin, ”Are we asking our kids to collect dots or connect dots?”

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One of the first things Curry teaches us is to “know your students”. It’s a great philosophy, and one that I teach by. I know that it pertains to students as individuals, but I also found it true for students as a whole. And when I made the switch from my student teaching in Cville to my first year at an international school in Germany, I really had to readjust my expectations.

In Cville I had two sets of kids: the “honors” students who came from upper-middle class (mostly white) backgrounds, and the lower SES kids who were mostly mixed race. These kids were my biggest challenges, as they were coming from homes where there wasn’t a place for them to study, a healthy meal to keep them going, and sometimes even a stable parent to support them. For them, school was often just the thing they did during the day to see their friends, and they didn’t think it would take them anywhere.

At the international school, most of my students have a loving family and a large bank account, and they value the education that they’re receiving. Clearly I had to readjust my way of thinking. Oddly, some of their behaviors are the same. I still don’t always get their homework, but instead of the reason being that they just didn’t care to do it or never have a materials, it’s because they had soccer and after-school music lessons and couldn’t fit it in. Or perhaps they already had 3 hours of homework in science and math and had to prioritize.

I think the biggest difference is that while my students all have physical homes, they don’t really have one place that they can call “home”. Many of them have lived in multiple countries over the years, and don’t identify strongly with one over another. Or they may have one parents from one country and another parent from a different country, but may never have lived in either. The best example I can give you is this: A student* at our school is ethnically Japanese. However, she was adopted by one parent who is German and another who is American, and spent the majority of her young life in India. She speaks Hindi, German, Italian, English, and Japanese. So what culture does she identify with the most? She’s trying very hard to make friends with the Indian girls at school, as she identified with that culture the most. Unfortunately, those girls don’t seem to like having her around or really see her as “Indian”.

Like this young girl, my students are privileged in a way that most of us will never know, and yet they can be so lonely. And like most middle schoolers, they are wacky, but also so shy when they have to make the switch to a new school for the umpteenth time. And most of my older kids can be slightly clueless about the problems of poverty, classism, and intolerance that exist outside of their bubble. Still, they can be entirely too serious about their academic life. They are all these things at once, and I continue to find out more as I scratch further and further beneath the surface.

I’ll leave you with this final example and question that I had the other day.

In my quest to “know my students”, I discovered that the reason why one of my students* didn’t turn his essay in on time (it was 5 days late) was because his weekends and after-school time are taken up by drama. Not only that, but his family returned to their home country and he remains here because the drama school that he was admitted to is very prestigious. Nevertheless, I was annoyed that he didn’t send me an email asking for an extension (which I would have gladly granted regardless of his situation). Someone even told me, “Don’t be too upset with him; his life is very hard”. I ended up accepting his paper, though I couldn’t help but feeling that I’d somehow “cheapened” what it means to have a deadline.

I imagine it is very hard indeed to be an ocean away from your parents and to be either studying or practicing non-stop. Still, something irked me about the situation. After all, some of my kids in the States didn’t have parents or even homes to go home to, or they were too busy worrying over younger siblings or after-school jobs to turn assignments in on time. Their lives were just as hard. Should deadlines not have applied to them either?

And so yes, we all have to know our students and make exceptions when they’re needed. But where do we draw the line? Does my talented, lonely international student deserve a break anymore than my underprivileged, worried students from the States? Somehow I suspect that “knowing your students” has as much to do with knowing yourself and knowing society as it does your students.

What do you think?

(*Note that some details have been changed to protect my students’ identities.)

Whew, it’s been a busy first quarter!! I wish I could have updated you all sooner, but starting my first year of teaching at a new school with a new (international!) approach to learning and getting hired the week before school started has kept me very busy up until now. :)

Where to start? I suppose I’ll begin at the beginning, of sorts. If you’ll remember, I moved to Germany after graduating from Curry without a job lined up, but with the intent of subbing at my new home’s nearest international school with the hopes that an English teaching position would open up in the next year or two. I felt this was a good plan especially after networking with a former alumnus who’s been at the school for over a decade. She introduced me to the middle school principal and took me on a tour around the building. As the school year was quickly approaching, I felt confident that I would have enough work between subbing and some curriculum development that I was still completing remotely for a student travel company with which I worked over the summer.

Then, less than two weeks before the start of school, I got a phone call from the high school principal. She wanted a second interview with me, as it seemed a position had opened up after all. The interview went extremely well, and within four hours I received a phone call with a job offer! The very next day my contract was signed, and the day after that I was sitting at a Biergarten enjoying a Hefeweizen with my new coworkers. (Yes, this was part of our new teacher orientation schedule set by the administration.)

Since then, it’s been a rather whirlwind quarter, to say the least.

I started off being given three sections of English Language B (i.e. strict English language courses) at the 6th, 7th, and 8th grade levels, one EAL support course, one Advisory (i.e. homeroom) group, one SAP (i.e. students with learning disabilities) group, and one “Theory of Knowledge” course. This came to somewhere around four full preps and three half-ish preps with no overlap. (I say half-ish because I was given EAL, SAP, and Advisory as a first year teacher because they’re thought by some people not to have any prep work, but I’m still always prepping for them, just to a lesser extent that my English classes.) The best (or worst) part about the load was that English Language B is a new course offering for this year, and so I was given it without any prior curriculum to work from. I do have two coworkers in the department with whom to plan. However, they weren’t much help after day two for a variety of reasons.

But I survived, as all good Curry grads do. I drafted my curriculum for the year to the best of my ability, wrote as much of my first couple of units as I could, and read through the 3-foot high stack of IB curriculum manuals given to me in my various departments. Things were stable for about a week.

Then, my EAL course was taken away from me and combined with another teacher’s section so that mid-October I could get a 9th grade English Literature course. Luckily, I walked into a department that had a fully prepared curriculum and began with a book that I had experience teaching last year as a student teacher (To Kill a Mockingbird). I like to tell myself that I wouldn’t have accepted such a major shift had the conditions been otherwise, but let’s face it: New teachers sometimes get a lot of crap and often get the rug pulled out from under them at one point or another. It just happens. And so I probably would have been forced to take the course one way or another. :) On the other hand, I really, really wanted English lit — so I took the course of my own volition no matter the cost.

And luckily, I have the best set of new teaching friends from around the world who have supported me and with whom I can commiserate. This great group of people started their first year at the international school with me, and hail from Germany, the U.K., Australia, and the U.S. They’ve helped keep me sane through the stress of it all, and they give me the intellectual support I need to challenge my practice. I would have most certainly had an emotional breakdown or two by now had it not been for them.

And of course, having amazing kids to teach has helped, too. My kids are all over the place, from rowdy 6th graders to 11th graders who think they’re too cool for school. They are all brilliant (mostly over-achievers) from Germany, Japan, India, China, South Korea, Poland, the U.K., the U.S., Russia, Turkey, and dozens of other countries all around the world. I want to tell you all about them, but I think that will have to wait for some additional posts. I actually have a lot of topics that I want to cover, including assessment, student travel, learning disabilities, language and literature, and so much more! But at the risk of making this post too fiendishly long, I’m going to leave off here and pick up again with another post. (I promise it won’t take me so long next time!)

If you have any suggestions for topics or questions, leave them in the comments.

And to celebrate this fine Halloween season, please enjoy this lovely Alphorn player made out of pumpkins from the Ludwigsburg pumpkin festival. :)

Pumpkin Alphorn

If there is one thing I have learned over the past few weeks, it is that the  potential to burn out as a student teacher is incredibly high.  Some may even say it’s inevitable.

First, you’re thrown into a whole new schedule: waking up at 7 a.m. or earlier; being at work, on your feet, and really THINKING for 7 hours a day; and then going home to grading and more planning.  Then there are the germs – on the desks, on the markers you use for your white board, on your pencils when you lend them to students – there’s really no way to avoid them, no matter how much Purel you pump.

And finally, there is the complete mental takeover.  If you are like me, or any of my TA friends, you cannot turn to the off button when you leave school.  You dream about lessons gone awry and materials missing.  You wonder about the student who is failing your class while you’re stirring a saucepan of pumpkin risotto (that, by the way, was delicious). And in the back of your mind, there are always the teensy weensy nagging feelings of: Am I doing this right?  Am I any good at it, really? And do my students even like me?

I’m pretty sure I heard from many different people that teaching is an all-encompassing job, but I had no idea just how consuming it would be until I was in it, day-in and day-out. So, my caveat to all those going into the teaching profession (and those already in it) is this: Take time for yourself, and take care of yourself.

My CI has told me from the beginning – do something for yourself every day.  For me it is running. I try to run at least three times during the school week, and I can tell on those days that I am calmer and more centered when I go into school the next morning.  Taking time for yourself can be as simple as reading a chapter of a book that’s not related to class – just make sure to take time to unplug and to decompress.

And then the most important – taking care of yourself physically.  This care means getting enough sleep, drinking orange juice, and remembering to eat healthy. Unfortunately for me, I didn’t pay enough attention to this part of my own caveat, and spent half of last week either in the ER (a dark place to which I never want to return) or sleeping for ungodly numbers of hours in a row.  I missed a full day of school, and this week has felt a bit off kilter getting back into the swing of things.  That being said, being sick was probably the best thing that could have happened to me.  I have realized the value of shutting off the laptop, of going to bed at 10pm, and of seriously taking a break from school to keep both my sanity and my health.

School  will always be a major part of a teacher’s  life – in sickness, and in health.  Here’s to hoping that the rest of my semester, at least, focuses on a more healthy relationship.

Just a few weeks ago, I began my teaching adventure in Casablanca, Morocco. Throughout my BA/MT program at the Curry School, I had always planned on teaching abroad upon graduation. In the last year or two of my program for secondary social studies, I was obsessed (seriously, my family and friends can attest to this) with researching how I could find a teaching position in an international or American school abroad. I attended a job fair in the winter of 2012 and met with a few schools, only to be told time and time again that the school would be interested in me in a few years, when I had more experience. The rationale seemed logical (culture shock + 1st year teaching shock=disaster) but was frustrating nonetheless as I was about to graduate with a master’s degree. But luckily for me, I found several schools that had social studies internships (part teaching, part aiding the school in various ways), and one at a school in Casablanca seemed just perfect. I gladly accepted their offer and could relax a little bit knowing that I had a job after graduation.

Fast forward six months later, and I’m back at my parents’ home packing meticulously for a year. How do you even begin to pack for a year? I tried my best to pack clothes that would carry me through the different seasons of the year. Fortunately, the temperature in Morocco doesn’t vary all that much, but I did have plans to travel to Europe throughout the year so my coats came with me. Then the process of thinking about all of the things and amenities I live with here in the U.S. and deciding what to take with me began. Then came the actual packing of those items. Then came the removal of those items from my suitcase when I realized that taking so much would make my suitcase overweight under airline regulations. It was at that moment I decided that “be flexible” was my motto for the year.

So with two large suitcases, one carry-on duffel, and one backpack stuffed to legal capacity, I boarded my plane from DC to New York and New York to Casablanca. As soon as I got on the plane from New York to Casablanca, English was no longer the language of choice. The passengers around me were speaking a fusion of French and Moroccan Arabic (a version of Arabic called Darija that sounds pretty different from standard Arabic, from what I’m told), and I realized then that I was one of the few English-only speakers on the plane and that it would be months before I could understand the people around me again (I took Latin in high school, so unless I was moving to Rome and moving back in time, I could pretty much count the skills learned there out…). Seven hours later, we touched down in Casablanca, and a whirlwind of new people and orientation activities began. The actual school year didn’t begin until a week and a half into September, so that meant teachers and staff had over two weeks to adjust to life here and prepare classrooms.

What does adjusting to life here actually mean? Well, let me tell you. With the teachers here, I’ve gone to numerous cookouts and restaurants in Casablanca and surrounding area, the huge mosque on the Atlantic Ocean here in town, the developing world’s version of a Wal-mart here called Marjane, and a beach resort. I’ve taken trips to Rabat, the capital, and Madrid, Spain just to the north of Morocco. I’ve developed a rapport with a guy at the local coffee shop who now knows just how many sugars to put in my to-go cup, although I’m pretty sure I stand out with wanting to take my coffee to go…and being an American in North Africa. I’ve finally learned to keep dirhams, Moroccan currency, with me at all times after realizing that people here really do not like to accept debit or credit cards here. The ATM machine doesn’t even like cards; I realized this fact after I tried to get more cash, and the machine took my card, made several funny noises, and then refused any transactions or to even give me my card back. I’ve discovered that if I need to go to an important event, I need to leave one hour ahead of time because you just never know what is going to happen to you on the way- I’ve had a taxi driver drive me in a circle around the entire city and stop for gas before dropping me off at my requested destination. I’ve learned that if I want to walk anywhere- to the grocery store, to my apartment, to the gym- without being harassed by young Moroccan men, I need to wear sunglasses and look angrily off into space. Most of the harassment has been harmless and oddly enough limited to “Hola, madame” and some “Let me be your boyfriend for free.” Somehow, with my loud talking in English and very pale skin, people think I’m Spanish. As for the other comment, it doesn’t make sense, but I don’t judge- English is most people’s third language here.

These are just a few of the ways I’ve adjusted to living here in Casablanca and the lessons that I’ve learned. Each day presents new challenges and opportunities to find solutions for those challenges. And just think, the school year and my actual job have only just started, two days ago in fact, so the actual tasks and challenges I’m getting paid to face have not even occurred. In my next entry, I will be able to (yes, KUDs anyone?) describe the first week of school here in Morocco. As of this entry, we’ve already had two school days, and it looks like the craziness and fun are going to be in no shortage this school year.

If you have any questions about my post or would like to know more specifics about the job fair process or my school, feel free to contact me, Melissa, at mcm3yd@virginia.edu. Au revoir for now! Read More

“It’s hard to believe that it’s the middle of September.”  I cannot tell you the number of times I have heard these words fly out of the mouths of my fellow TAs and teachers in the past week.  Time has really flown since I had my first nerve-wracking day at my high school. I now know where to park, which of my three keys open which doors, and how to enter student grades into the confusing online system, “PowerTeacher” (it even sounds frightening).  I’ve had my first PLC (professional learning community) meeting, my first pep rally (complete with being hit in the head by an errant beach ball), and my first disciplinary talk with a student. I’ve also led had my first week of leading a class, my first Back to School Night, and my first high-five from a student.  I feel very much like a teacher, and I’m loving every second of it.

So now that Labor Day has come and gone, school is truly in full swing. Which means, while (what seems like) most of the people in Charlottesville are still celebrating UVa football’s victory over Penn State, I am sitting in my apartment (with NFL football on mute) thinking of ways to get my students to read a 300-page book in class. And since I have reached a total roadblock, I figured it was time for a Curryed Away update.

While I have only been in my associateship for a few weeks, I have already experienced one of the more valuable aspects of teaching: the collaboration among colleagues.

I’ve seen this collaboration between my CI and other members of our department through PLCs. During planning week, the teachers traded ideas for how to reach certain students, and even discussed which books might be most appropriate for different classes.

I’ve seen and been a part of this collaboration with my CI and our two collaborative teachers; these classes run much more smoothly when communication lines are open and responsibility for teaching and assessment is shared.

I’ve also experienced this collaboration in my TA seminar; my peers and I share resources and strategies that are working every week that we meet (and sometimes continue that sharing over email).

And finally, I have been a part of this collaboration with my CI.  I can honestly say that one of the best parts about our relationship is how willing he is to share his knowledge and resources with me, but also how open he has been to encouraging me to try my own ideas out.  Additionally, it has been so wonderful to put out heads together on management issues, and to bounce new ideas off each other for the final assessment for The Great Gatsby and for how we might best employ e-books to enrich our teaching.

If I have learned one thing from my Teaching Associateship so far, it is that teaching is a collaborative effort.  Sometimes it can be tempting to isolate oneself in the classroom – there is so much planning to do, reading to finish, and grading to complete.  But it’s important to take advantage of the resources around you – namely, your more experienced colleagues and peers who are going through the same daily rigors that you are.  While you may be standing alone in front of your first class, your road there will be much smoother if it’s a collaborative effort.

So along those lines, I’m going to sign off and pick up the phone.  Even if I can’t wrap my head around how to teach a 300-page novel in class in two weeks, I’m sure that one of my fellow associates can help me put a few ideas together.

 

 

Prior to moving, neither my husband nor I could speak German. I’d taken roughly 8 years of French in high school and college, and he’d just taken a year of German in community college and another two years of Japanese. Given our experience studying languages and our deep-seated belief that you should speak the language of the country in which you live, we committed ourselves to learning German about as soon as we landed. Read More