Saturday, April 16, 2005
Are you related to Osama bin Laden?
Yesterday, I discovered that one of my students is pregnant. And another, aged fifteen, already has two at home. This second one, D, has no interest in school. She's much more prone to goof of. For instance, yesterday, I gave her a pass, on my planner to her locker. She never showed up to class. I've always thought I should accord respect to parents, and it happens naturally. They've understood, through experience, something about life and children that I don't have access to. I look upon parenthood as a special gift and privilege. I cannot feel any of this for D. Pity is the only feeling I have for her. What kind of mother is she? Can she teach her children responsibility, fairness, good citizenship, and work ethics? Can she show her children that they can make a difference in this world, that the greatest gift of living is to give of yourself for the happiness of others? But, I do not want to write her off. And, I don't want to give up on any of the others. My cooperating teacher interrupted me during second hour yesterday. She had found out—by being in the right place that morning—that one of my students, who's been on the roll since January, but has never been to class, is finally released, and will be coming back to class. I do not know the crime for which he was incarcerated. I did not have the chance to meet this student. My cooperating teacher did go and see him at the guidance office. He did not look her in the face once, during the whole meeting. Also this week, I was asked if I was related to Osama bin Laden. This was not asked innocently, but I pretended it was, and explained about the diversity among Muslims, and about generalizing about a quarter of the world through the actions of a few, and how that was dangerous thinking. I was also asked why I was making suggestions on students’ drafts, because wasn’t it supposed to be their writing? I assumed this question was also asked innocently—and I do not think it was—so I explained, that my suggestions are there to help them to improve their writing, that this was why we wrote in English, to help them to move to a higher level. I also told them that my suggestions were just suggestions, and that they did not need to follow them, necessarily. I also told them that I would be grading their essays, so they should consider carefully whether to listen to my advice, or to ignore it. (Maybe that last bit was unnecessary? I’m not sure yet whether I should have added that.) Despite the heaviness of Friday brought on by all the news—and in general by students’ uncooperative and, at times, rude behavior—I would still be cheerful had guilt not been weighing down upon me. It is strange to think of it now, but I’ve been burdened lately by the thought that I did not properly guides student through the revision process for their essays. By the time we reached revision, the process had dragged on for so long that only a few students were keeping up. So, we did peer-reviewing, and I asked them to ask someone at home to help them to review. But the final drafts are so horrible, that I think I should have explained a few items in much more detail. I rushed it because I did not want to spend more time with just two or three students following along during every period. I’m still pondering if we should revisit the essays Monday, or if we should just end it here and then look again at revision in the next unit. I would not call myself a great success as a teacher—I’m no Jaime Escalante or any of those supposed Miracle Teachers packaged in romanticized teaching movies. And, I’ve decided those types don’t actually exist. One thing though that I understand more and more, is that most students need teachers to just have high expectations of them, to help them to realize they can actually achieve, and to just teach well. My dad tried to tell me a few years ago, about a concept in Islamic teachings: that we are accountable only for our actions and that the results come not from us, but from the Creator. And I understood it, on a conceptual level. These days, I’m beginning to realize that I just need to keep on doing what works. Students will benefit from it, even if I won’t be there to see it. Final note: this came out to be a lot sappier than I had expected. I do not revel in sentimentality. ¶ 4/16/2005 06:57:00 AM
Yesterday, I discovered that one of my students is pregnant. And another, aged fifteen, already has two at home. This second one, D, has no interest in school. She's much more prone to goof of. For instance, yesterday, I gave her a pass, on my planner to her locker. She never showed up to class. I've always thought I should accord respect to parents, and it happens naturally. They've understood, through experience, something about life and children that I don't have access to. I look upon parenthood as a special gift and privilege. I cannot feel any of this for D. Pity is the only feeling I have for her. What kind of mother is she? Can she teach her children responsibility, fairness, good citizenship, and work ethics? Can she show her children that they can make a difference in this world, that the greatest gift of living is to give of yourself for the happiness of others? But, I do not want to write her off. And, I don't want to give up on any of the others. My cooperating teacher interrupted me during second hour yesterday. She had found out—by being in the right place that morning—that one of my students, who's been on the roll since January, but has never been to class, is finally released, and will be coming back to class. I do not know the crime for which he was incarcerated. I did not have the chance to meet this student. My cooperating teacher did go and see him at the guidance office. He did not look her in the face once, during the whole meeting. Also this week, I was asked if I was related to Osama bin Laden. This was not asked innocently, but I pretended it was, and explained about the diversity among Muslims, and about generalizing about a quarter of the world through the actions of a few, and how that was dangerous thinking. I was also asked why I was making suggestions on students’ drafts, because wasn’t it supposed to be their writing? I assumed this question was also asked innocently—and I do not think it was—so I explained, that my suggestions are there to help them to improve their writing, that this was why we wrote in English, to help them to move to a higher level. I also told them that my suggestions were just suggestions, and that they did not need to follow them, necessarily. I also told them that I would be grading their essays, so they should consider carefully whether to listen to my advice, or to ignore it. (Maybe that last bit was unnecessary? I’m not sure yet whether I should have added that.) Despite the heaviness of Friday brought on by all the news—and in general by students’ uncooperative and, at times, rude behavior—I would still be cheerful had guilt not been weighing down upon me. It is strange to think of it now, but I’ve been burdened lately by the thought that I did not properly guides student through the revision process for their essays. By the time we reached revision, the process had dragged on for so long that only a few students were keeping up. So, we did peer-reviewing, and I asked them to ask someone at home to help them to review. But the final drafts are so horrible, that I think I should have explained a few items in much more detail. I rushed it because I did not want to spend more time with just two or three students following along during every period. I’m still pondering if we should revisit the essays Monday, or if we should just end it here and then look again at revision in the next unit. I would not call myself a great success as a teacher—I’m no Jaime Escalante or any of those supposed Miracle Teachers packaged in romanticized teaching movies. And, I’ve decided those types don’t actually exist. One thing though that I understand more and more, is that most students need teachers to just have high expectations of them, to help them to realize they can actually achieve, and to just teach well. My dad tried to tell me a few years ago, about a concept in Islamic teachings: that we are accountable only for our actions and that the results come not from us, but from the Creator. And I understood it, on a conceptual level. These days, I’m beginning to realize that I just need to keep on doing what works. Students will benefit from it, even if I won’t be there to see it. Final note: this came out to be a lot sappier than I had expected. I do not revel in sentimentality. ¶ 4/16/2005 06:57:00 AM