How to Use a Remote Control and other Useless Advice

We used to have a fuzzy television set with six channels that you changed by leaning forward and pressing the buttons at the base of the TV. But then the twin towers fell. And we lost our reception.

So we got cable. No point in being depressed, terrorized and having lousy reception..

Then since we had cable tv we needed a 50 inch high definition TV. You can't sit close enough to a 52 inch high definition TV to change the channels by leaning forward, and anyway it came with a remote control

Okay so I lived all those years without a remote, and this one had a series of buttons to press in a certain order but I mastered it. You can teach an old dog new tricks.
But sometimes I cannot perform the series of button pressing in a rapid succession therefore delaying the viewing pleasure of the immediate audience. Which causes my husband to 1) take the remote away or 2) explain for the forty millionth time how the remote works..

I know how the remote works! I just have technical difficulties.
I respond to the offer with the counter offer that if he touches the remote or instructs me one more time the TV will change channels every time he sits down.
And this story belongs on my school blog why?

When I had the fuzzy, little TV set, I also had a special education supervisor, who made the schedule and distributed them the first day of school. Students with like disabilities were placed in programs with similar needs and a class was formed a staffed. But now in the name of great leaps forward in education of students with special needs, students are assigned schools, the school can group then anyway they want (as long as their needs are met) and it is my job to figure out the schedule.
I couldn't. Suffice to say I could not make the numbers add up. Not enough students in anyone category to form a group, but the student's difficulties with the learning process had the annoying habit of not disappearing because nine other similar students had not enrolled in the school.
The principal (who couldn't do it either) invited someone from the network to come down.


And here is her words of wisdom

Good Morning Overwhelmed Teacher,

It was a pleasure meeting with you and MS Teacherfish yesterday afternoon.

To do a brief recap of our meeting:

We discussed:
· Amending IEPs according to each student’s skill levels and the services the school can provide to support each student
· A bridge class of 8th and 9th grade students who are self contained cannot be done
· In 9th -12th grade students can be in the same subject class as long as each student needs the specific course credit
· If there are any students in a class who is less than 16 years old then there can not be more than a 3 year age difference.
· To build capacity of subject area expertise it is best practice for Special Education Teachers who co- teach ICT classes to teach the same subject for Self Contained classes

Please feel free to contact me with any other questions or concerns.

Clueless Helper


Still no schedule. Still no way to figure it out. But now I think I knew exactly what I knew before she came to help.

I know how special ed works! I just have technical difficulties.

Metaphoric students and moving balls

New school year- again. Here comes the Common Core Curriculum, new teacher evaluations and another year of trying to survive the anti-teacher education climate.

But our principal was a physical education teacher. So we began our professional development series with a team relay race that required us to move various-sized balls in tubes, across the gym.

On Tuesday, the new organization sheet had me as the high school special education teacher. On Thursday when classes began, I was told to teach sixth grade Social Studies, oh and maybe Technology ( but not in the tech room).

The old me would have had a fit. The new me---
Well it was kind of was like a treasure hunt game. First I had to figure out what periods I was supposed to teach those classes, remember my assignment was high school special ed, then I needed to figure out what room to teach them in and lastly (the most tricky part) I was supposed to find the students. (Just for the record, the students were, not even one time, in or on the way to the room where the secretary told me the class would meet)

But I am a good treasurer hunter, and a fair "winger" of unplanned lessons.
I read the Social Studies class the book Squids Will be Squids, by John Sciewska.

Then I asked: How can stories tell us about their author's culture?

And many kids gave good answers, but one said, good stories relate important information about culture through the use of metaphors and similes.
(Maybe I should wish that the principal doesn't actually figure out that I should be the high school special education teacher!)

So that is what the "moving the different balls through the tube relay race" was all about, it was a simile or maybe a metaphor, on how working as a team we can "move" children. (If you are a not a NYC teacher, you may not know that in any year the sole purpose of a teacher is to "move" a student from the category of proficiency s/he placed in the previous year to the next higher level)

BTW- I figured out early in the race to maneuver my body so my back was to the other contestants, place my finger securely on the open ends of the tube and pass it on before anyone noticed.
Hey - after thirty tears of teaching I was not about to crawl around the gym floor chasing metaphoric students or runaway balls.

And, Michele Rhee, Atlanta and Philadelphia administrators- I am not drawing any conclusions about the relationship between standardized tests and "moving" students progress and cheating!

But remember- that at least one very bright sixth grader thinks that an author's story relates information about culture through the use of similes and metaphors.

On wearing uniforms

I didn't believe in uniforms for public school students. I kind of thought the good thing about going to public school was that you didn't have to wear a scratchy plaid jumper and woolen knee socks. I wore jeans and t-shirts, my kids wore jeans and t-shirts and nothing itched.

But I'm getting used to the idea. In fact I found my school shirt and khaki pants today, so much easier than dressing up for the first day of school and the philosophy that students who adhere to uniform rules tend to adhere to other rules is growing on me.

So there I was in my school uniform giving out high school schedules today, this first day of school. Delia was looking for her schedule when the assistant principal sized up her version of the uniform- a pair of snug tan pants, a stretchy white tee and a spandex cardigan. Delia has the shape to pull it off- the outfit would have worked according to any teen fashion magazine. Delia didn't look slutty- just luscious.

But not according to Ms. AP. She fussed.

Delia's defense- I woke up in a bad mood - I've already given my mother attitude and now (Ms. AP) you're starting with me. And my mother doesn't have the money to buy any more school shirts.

More fussing- from both of them.

I said: Come on Delia you only got to get through ten more months before graduation and if you shut up and apologize and tell Ms. AP that you will gladly wear the school shirt I will buy you one.

So she did- but not too fast.
And an hour later the bill was in my mailbox.
And Delia was in the school shirt -open, with the tight tiny teeny tee shirt and the bottom emphasizing stretch khaki pants.

She still looked luscious.

Another year begins.

When Life Gives You Lemons

It's hot in New York.
This is the time of year I read blogs about teachers all over the country being out of school and the end still seems light years away for us.

And most of the day is still spent in unairconditioned rooms.
But this guy showed up on the corner a few weeks ago and he sells delicious fresh squeezed lemonade.

The junior girls and I went for a walk to the Day Care Center a few blocks away looking for summer volunteer work. (For them, not me I don't even want the paid job)
On the way back I managed to make a ten dollar bill magically disappear at the lemonade stand.

What happened to the one cup for a nickel?

We switched the mandatory extended day session (mandatory for teachers- It appears to be completely optional for the students) from test prep for the middle school to Regents Prep for the high school.

At least its supposed to be- anyway. The ninth period makes students magically disappear.

But I have a loyal following- the eleventh grade resource room students.
Three young people who arrived from Haiti with lots of enthusiasm for an American Education

And very little preparation.

So we cover World History in a nutshell every day.

It goes something like this.....

Me: pointing to the map of South East Asia. What country is this? (note the geography question)

Them: silence

Me: come on

Them: Africa,

Me: Africa is a continent not a country

First Student: South Africa

Second Student: No South Africa is a continent stupid


And so on until we establish its India

Me: And who is the famous world leader we studied from India? (World leader question)

Them:

Me: Come on - think about the clue. it sounds like this...me pointing to the treat bag

First Person: Mahatma Candy

Me: Close enough, and what was Gandhi's big accomplishment? (history question.

And so on until we have run out of time and energy (mine not their's)

The other day because of the mandatory assignment of teachers and the not so compulsory attendance by students, three teachers watched as we circulated through our free association, capture what you can, try to remember something- crash course on World History.

I had forgotten. Not how hard it was for students with little formal education, second language issues layered over learning disabilities- to access a curriculum, but how I could continue a rapid fire barrage of questions and hints and encouragements without getting frustrated.

The other teachers were amazed.

But I loved this.
I miss my old self contained class.

When life gives you lemons....

Go buy an overpriced cup of lemonade.

The end of the world as we know it

Okay so it is May 22, and I am still here.

I took the bus home from a meeting late into the evening one night last week.
Nonetheless, the bus was crowded even though it was past 9pm. The man standing in front of me was bedecked from head to toe in clothing that admonished; Repent- Rapture is coming May 21, 2011.

That particular bus heads straight into the heart of the Observant Jewish section of Queens. All around me the pious (wow -three vowels in a row- got to remember that word for scrabble game) were deeply absorbed in well worn books printed in both Hebrew and English.

"They live their live's as if the Messiah will arrive any day," my husband explained when I related the story.

And the bus moved silently towards everyone's home.

Me- I played games on the new phone the whole way.

If the world ended yesterday-I'd not being going anywhere good.

I suppose I need to write lessons for the week to come.

A leap of faith

The world of New York City Schools used to be organized geographically. A school was located physically and administratively in a district with neighboring schools.

No more.

For reasons only Bloomberg could begin to explain, the current organization of schools revolves around networks. The workshop leader today asked what network each of us belonged to - I could give the network leader's name but not the number. I wrote it down when she told me.

I have forgotten it already.

But because the network we belong to is based in the Bronx, I got to take two buses, through today's monsoon (presenter's word-not mine) to a workshop in the Bronx.. The good news- ride too long to return to school for the afternoon.

And I got to eat lunch at the Arthur Avenue Market.

I took the picture of the market while perched on the narrow stairway, hesitating to make the final step after shooting the photo. The man waiting to enter encouraged me to, "take a leap of faith."

So what was so important that I had to brave the torrential rains, cross the river and check the Hop Stop directions on the phone, 50 times?

Information on how to write an IEP that meets the state requirements for transition.

Now I wouldn't doubt for a second that that transition for a student with special needs is of the upmost importance. And I wouldn't doubt that a genuinely appropriate IEP for a student with a third grade reading level would address the real vocational as well as academic needs of such student.

And that is why all the exemplars we looked at had programs that offered specific courses for specific interests and training, courses like keyboarding and real math for the real world, cooking and welding.

But this is New York City. Almost everyone at the workshop was from the small high schools- where everyone is "college bound."

Can't subtract without a calculator? No problem, we have high expectations for you so take Algebra II (yeah, yeah so you didn't pass Algebra I - get over it). Want to be beautician, take college bound chemistry- why? See above.

So three hours of transition IEP writing later - I was back into the storm, literally and figuratively.

Will I write IEPs that are genuine and appropriate and meet the transition needs of Kenya and Elma and the like?

I'm gonna have to try. The state might audit us.

I need to take a leap of faith!

Smart Phone Dumb Teacher

Okay I was tired of Kenya making fun of my $19 phone. I know the teacher's contract. I know by virtue of my age and tenacity I make the most money of anyone in the school,(except the principal and custodian).

But I had the cheapest phone. I wanted a Smart phone. I didn't need a smart phone. I figure it this way. I spent the first 70% of my life with a phone that went brrrinnggg, brrrinngg. It was attached to a wall in the foyer of our four room apartment. I put my jacket on my head when I didn't want my mother to hear what I was saying. She probably heard anyway- truth to be told I had a very boring adolescence. The only secrets were in my head- I didn't do anything she couldn't have listened in on. The next 25% percent of my life I spent with a continuing progression of basic cell phones, almost all of which came to untimely ends.(Which is a very good incentive to buy the cheapest model available.)

But everyone else had a sexy phone. And I wanted one too. So we spent a sum total of 10 hours at various cell phone outfitters until my husband got the best deal. In his opinion. The argument that I made the most and had the least- phonewise anyway- didn't inspire him to open his wallet any wider.

Okay so by Tuesday- I had my smart phone. I did miss a few phone calls because I didn't quite know how to answer it fast enough. I couldn't get my voice messages since on Wednesday night a parent called to tell me her son was missing and in a panic (mine as well as hers) I entered some password into the voicemail set up that I could not replicate ever again. I couldn't get the phone service to reset the phone since I could not answer the question- what was my husband's nickname as a child.
The name I did give the not-so-helpful assistant on the help line- was something that started with a verb that referred to fornication and ended with the noun that describes the exit organ of the digestive system. And there were quite a few adjectives in between.

Oh yeah- missing child, not really missing- just detoured in the pizza store on the way home from after-school.
And my husband reset my password using some secret 7 digit password.(Due to anonymous nature of this blog- I will reveal that the very secret password is the number 1 through 7 in consecutive order- had I known that earlier the not-so helpful-assistant might have continued to think that I was respectable lady)

Wednesday was the administration of the State Tests. Lots of blogs I browsed this week, talk about the aggravation, the futility, the burden of the ridiculous pressure the whole education community suffers from high stakes testing.

Those blogs expressed that point far better then any attempt I could make to do so. My comment on the high stake tests- Teachers as well as students suffer greatly from the enforced abstention of texting during the hours of the test.

And me did I abstain?

Actually if I learned anything this week it was that no one texts me.
(Not even my husband, who upon hearing we had free texting and I that I am the only breathing soul in the school who receives no text messages all day long, promised to text me he loves me at least twice a day)
No such text received yet.

So here's how all the above fits in with Teacherfish blog.

I decided that I would use my new smart phone, to capture pithy observations as I flitted through my day sans computer but with cell phone in hand. I downloaded a notepad app, practiced swyping and made this valuable observation while riding to school on Thursday:



17 minutes A day.that's the amount of time the average hhigh school student spends actually reading. Ij heard that statistic when I was in graduate school. That was more than three decades ago. But I thought of it yesterday when I was rewarding with wilma and kenya.s group.
I gave up. I gave up on english class. They weren't reading seventeen minutes, they weren't reading seventeen seconds. So I took them out. And now w read. Maunder bort seventeen committees worth, but everyone reserves every everyday.

I was thinking about that because I berated a story on the need

Gourd that reason I started taking the ki,.<

I think I heard a story on NPR about the irrelevancy of teacher education programs and actually teaching. I think I was trying to make the point that I still was affected and made decisions based upon the very excellent training I received 35 years ago

What I do actually know was that I missed my stop and had to walk back quite a bit to school.

Oh and Kenya was only slightly impressed by my new Smart phone. Apparently my husband's choice of the budget service did not make his cut.