We handed out report cards last Friday. Unlike some buildings in the district who have gone all electronic, we still do the paper report card. Seems only about 20% of our parents bother to sign on to PowerSchool so this is about the only way we can make sure they see their darling's grades. Even then, it's a gamble that the report card will make it home, but at least they can see the staple holes in the agenda where it had originally been stapled.
Out of 125 kids, 30 of them earned an F in science, mainly because (all together now), they don't turn in work, don't study for tests. (A good sign, however, is I have two special ed kids with B's because they do all their work. It can be done.)
Along with the report cards we sent out a team newsletter (which probably won't be read), a full color booklet from the State about test scores and high standards and high expectations and how you need to be engaged with your child and make sure they study and do their homework, blah, blah, blah (which probably won't be read), and then a BRIGHT PINK form to use to sign up for parent conferences, which start on Thursday. The form is pretty straighforward. We schedule individual appointments, so it said to put the name of the teacher you wish to see by the time slot you prefer.
Any guess on how many parents sent back the parent conference form?
Better yet...any guess on how many parents sent it back filled out CORRECTLY and actually followed the directions and put in the names of the teachers they want to see at the time slot they preferred (unlike most who simply put their kid's name by a time slot, leaving us to wonder who, exactly, they want to visit with)?
How does twelve sound?
Yup. Twelve. 125 kids, tons of F's in all subjects, and we get twelve parents who plan to visit.
Now granted, we may get a bunch of walk-ins, especially if the weather is good and not raining, but truth be told, we may just be sitting there all night with nothing to do.
And my ass is on the line if these kids don't pass the Very Big Deal Government Mandated Test...and every study on earth points to parent involvement as the key factor in academic achievement.
And my parents really don't want to be bothered.
Showing posts with label Failures. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Failures. Show all posts
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
Friday, October 22, 2010
Why I Have Grey Hair (aside from the whole genetic thing)
Last year we had a kid who was a non-academic promote from 6th grade. For the uninitiated, this means that he most likely failed every class but was passed on to seventh grade anyway. For one thing, he had already been retained once, so was a year older than the other kids already. Sock boy (he always wore basketball shorts with bright socks, flip flops and had the skinniest legs on earth) was a special education student, was on an IEP, but was perfectly capable of doing work and passing.
Except he chose not to.
He did nothing. He turned in no work. He made no effort to do work in class, and homework, despite the fact that he got help with it, was never done, never turned in. We had parent meeting after parent meeting with his mother, who was frustrated beyond belief with Sock Boy and couldn't make him do any work at home either. We had him in tutoring (skipped a lot), our remediation program, in addition to his special education services. In short, everyone was bending over backward to get this kid to work except, of course, for the kid himself. I often told him he was responsible for at least half the grey hairs on my head. (He thought that was hilarious, by the way.)
So, he was then non-academically promoted to the 8th grade. (See reasons above...they didn't change any). The theory by seventh grade is that we'll promote them anyway, maybe they'll grow up and actually get on the ball, and if they don't, we'll bump them on to high school after 8th grade and they'll get all the whiz-bang services in place at the high school for struggling and at-risk students.
So today we handed out the first quarter report card, and, as usual, I'm depressed because 30 of my students have chosen to fail because (okay, all together now), they don't do work, don't study, don't try, don't care.
And then a little email popped into my in-box from an 8th grade teacher...which read:
"For those of you who had Sock Boy last year, I thought you'd like to hear this. Sock Boy, who was a non-academic promote for both sixth and seventh grade, has earned for the first quarter....two A's, two B's and a C in his core academic classes. So remember, never give up. He finally matured, finally GOT IT, and he's finally working...so if you see him make a big deal out of it. You all had a big part in it."
Oh. My. God.
Mrs. Social Studies and I were stunned. And of course, Sock Boy wanted to come by and show us that Magical Report Card. And of course we made a HUGE deal over how proud of him we were. I wish I could see his mother's face when she saw that report card because I've seen her in tears over the struggles with her son. She's gonna be so relieved that he's finally on the right track.
Now, if the 30 kids that failed my class this nine weeks would only get it...I could stop worrying about the greys.
Except he chose not to.
He did nothing. He turned in no work. He made no effort to do work in class, and homework, despite the fact that he got help with it, was never done, never turned in. We had parent meeting after parent meeting with his mother, who was frustrated beyond belief with Sock Boy and couldn't make him do any work at home either. We had him in tutoring (skipped a lot), our remediation program, in addition to his special education services. In short, everyone was bending over backward to get this kid to work except, of course, for the kid himself. I often told him he was responsible for at least half the grey hairs on my head. (He thought that was hilarious, by the way.)
So, he was then non-academically promoted to the 8th grade. (See reasons above...they didn't change any). The theory by seventh grade is that we'll promote them anyway, maybe they'll grow up and actually get on the ball, and if they don't, we'll bump them on to high school after 8th grade and they'll get all the whiz-bang services in place at the high school for struggling and at-risk students.
So today we handed out the first quarter report card, and, as usual, I'm depressed because 30 of my students have chosen to fail because (okay, all together now), they don't do work, don't study, don't try, don't care.
And then a little email popped into my in-box from an 8th grade teacher...which read:
"For those of you who had Sock Boy last year, I thought you'd like to hear this. Sock Boy, who was a non-academic promote for both sixth and seventh grade, has earned for the first quarter....two A's, two B's and a C in his core academic classes. So remember, never give up. He finally matured, finally GOT IT, and he's finally working...so if you see him make a big deal out of it. You all had a big part in it."
Oh. My. God.
Mrs. Social Studies and I were stunned. And of course, Sock Boy wanted to come by and show us that Magical Report Card. And of course we made a HUGE deal over how proud of him we were. I wish I could see his mother's face when she saw that report card because I've seen her in tears over the struggles with her son. She's gonna be so relieved that he's finally on the right track.
Now, if the 30 kids that failed my class this nine weeks would only get it...I could stop worrying about the greys.
Friday, January 29, 2010
The Obnoxious Folder
Anyone remember Elf Boy? He's a tiny little guy in my 5th period who, from what we can tell from previous test scores and grades, is really quite capable but who turns in ABSOLUTELY NOTHING.
Nothing at all. He has one of the lowest grades out of all the kids in my classes. He never needs to be told to fill out the "why I didn't have my homework" slip and nine times out of ten his explanation is "lost it" or "forgot it at home". He must fill out about a dozen of these a week in between all his classes. He did get enrolled in after school tutoring and his tutoring teacher is, thankfully, snatching all his completed work as soon as it's done and putting it in my mailbox so I can disburse it to the rest of the teachers on The Team.
I've been trying to get a hold of mom for months to get a meeting set up and finally - finally! - this week she actually returned a phone call. She couldn't come in for a meeting due to her job, but she could do a teleconference. So, I set one up and we called her, put her on speakerphone and we all had a nice chat about Elf Boy and his grades.
Mom seemed very nice, and sweet, and very concerned that although she sees him "do all his homework and put it in his binder/bookbag", she doesn't have any idea why none of it gets turned in. None at all.
So, we put in a plan something that has worked well in the past - The Obnoxious Folder. The Obnoxious Folder is the brightest, garish, most eye-popping folder with pockets that we can find which is to go home with Darling Cherub every night. Cherub does homework and it all goes into the Obnoxious Folder. The parent is supposed to supervise, and in some cases staple, to make sure the work is Done and In The Folder. The parent then makes sure the folder, which is obnoxiously garish and loud, is then placed into the bookbag which is usually deep, dark and has some of the same properties as black holes. The idea is that the folder is so obnoxious it can't get lost - like all the homework has been doing for the past year. The next morning the first thing this child does after he/she arrives at school is to personally hand me the folder. I usually snatch them up during hall duty when I see them walk in from the buses, and make the kid stop, open the backpack and fish out the folder. At that point, I empty the folder, give it back to the cherub and send him and her off on their merry way.
This has worked pretty well in the past because I now have custody of the work, and it takes me a minute or so to deliver it to the teachers who assigned it. No big deal as I usually have to check in and talk to them about something anyway. If I'm short on time, I put it in the mailboxes.
Well, Elf Mom loved this idea. I had given Elf Boy a BRIGHT YELLOW folder the day before and she was going to make sure he had it EVERY NIGHT and she'd make sure he put all his finished work in it EVERY NIGHT, and that he'd hand it to me EVERY MORNING, and life would be wonderful because finally, finally, finally, Elf Boy would turn in his assignments. Elf Mom is ecstatic because this is a great idea, it's something she could do, and it will solve all her problems.
Except it's not working out that way.
Most mornings when I intercept Elf Boy in the hallway, he has his yellow folder. It is EMPTY. And those are on the mornings he remembers to bring it back to school. I asked him if his mom was watching him put his work in the folder like she said she would and he hems and haws, and finally admits that no, she's not checking on him. He can't understand why the work isn't there. (Elves again?) Like mom, he swears he's doing it.
Really now.
So Elf Mom, who promised she'd watch him put all the homework she sees him do every night into his folder...hasn't even managed to do that for one single day. Not one. Two weeks now and the only thing this folder is getting is banged up from going in and out of the backpack every day.
(Any guess on who's going to be held accountable for this kid's education? Let me clue you in...it won't be him and it won't be his mom.)
I got with Mrs. Reading Teacher a few days ago to discuss the folder issue. Her comment? "I sort of thought about sending a stapler home to help her staple his work to the folder, but I'm not sure that would even work."
Sad to say, she's probably right.
Nothing at all. He has one of the lowest grades out of all the kids in my classes. He never needs to be told to fill out the "why I didn't have my homework" slip and nine times out of ten his explanation is "lost it" or "forgot it at home". He must fill out about a dozen of these a week in between all his classes. He did get enrolled in after school tutoring and his tutoring teacher is, thankfully, snatching all his completed work as soon as it's done and putting it in my mailbox so I can disburse it to the rest of the teachers on The Team.
I've been trying to get a hold of mom for months to get a meeting set up and finally - finally! - this week she actually returned a phone call. She couldn't come in for a meeting due to her job, but she could do a teleconference. So, I set one up and we called her, put her on speakerphone and we all had a nice chat about Elf Boy and his grades.
Mom seemed very nice, and sweet, and very concerned that although she sees him "do all his homework and put it in his binder/bookbag", she doesn't have any idea why none of it gets turned in. None at all.
So, we put in a plan something that has worked well in the past - The Obnoxious Folder. The Obnoxious Folder is the brightest, garish, most eye-popping folder with pockets that we can find which is to go home with Darling Cherub every night. Cherub does homework and it all goes into the Obnoxious Folder. The parent is supposed to supervise, and in some cases staple, to make sure the work is Done and In The Folder. The parent then makes sure the folder, which is obnoxiously garish and loud, is then placed into the bookbag which is usually deep, dark and has some of the same properties as black holes. The idea is that the folder is so obnoxious it can't get lost - like all the homework has been doing for the past year. The next morning the first thing this child does after he/she arrives at school is to personally hand me the folder. I usually snatch them up during hall duty when I see them walk in from the buses, and make the kid stop, open the backpack and fish out the folder. At that point, I empty the folder, give it back to the cherub and send him and her off on their merry way.
This has worked pretty well in the past because I now have custody of the work, and it takes me a minute or so to deliver it to the teachers who assigned it. No big deal as I usually have to check in and talk to them about something anyway. If I'm short on time, I put it in the mailboxes.
Well, Elf Mom loved this idea. I had given Elf Boy a BRIGHT YELLOW folder the day before and she was going to make sure he had it EVERY NIGHT and she'd make sure he put all his finished work in it EVERY NIGHT, and that he'd hand it to me EVERY MORNING, and life would be wonderful because finally, finally, finally, Elf Boy would turn in his assignments. Elf Mom is ecstatic because this is a great idea, it's something she could do, and it will solve all her problems.
Except it's not working out that way.
Most mornings when I intercept Elf Boy in the hallway, he has his yellow folder. It is EMPTY. And those are on the mornings he remembers to bring it back to school. I asked him if his mom was watching him put his work in the folder like she said she would and he hems and haws, and finally admits that no, she's not checking on him. He can't understand why the work isn't there. (Elves again?) Like mom, he swears he's doing it.
Really now.
So Elf Mom, who promised she'd watch him put all the homework she sees him do every night into his folder...hasn't even managed to do that for one single day. Not one. Two weeks now and the only thing this folder is getting is banged up from going in and out of the backpack every day.
(Any guess on who's going to be held accountable for this kid's education? Let me clue you in...it won't be him and it won't be his mom.)
I got with Mrs. Reading Teacher a few days ago to discuss the folder issue. Her comment? "I sort of thought about sending a stapler home to help her staple his work to the folder, but I'm not sure that would even work."
Sad to say, she's probably right.
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
It's Gnomes, I Tell You...Or Maybe Elves
No, I haven't dropped off the face of the Earth.
Actually it was Fall Break (YIPPPEEE!)which was wonderful, but then coming back is just, well, a bit of a let down. See, I had to finalize grades for report cards which go out on Friday. And, out of 97 kids, 50 passed.
Yes, nearly 50% failed science. Amazing. However, I'm not alone. All the other 7th grade teachers had similar results. These kids just won't turn in work. If it's anything that leaves the room - homework, class work that isn't finished, a model, a project, anything - it will not be turned in.
I had one student, Elf Boy, who's a small kid, really sweet, and according to his records, is smart as a whip. But he's failing every single stinking class because he won't turn in work. His mother, whom I've emailed, called, you name it, is kind of vague about things like getting him into an after school tutoring program ("Well, uh, I don't know, maybe it would help," and comments like, "Oh, I only check my email about once a month, or so.") In any case, Mrs. Band is having fits because he's a good band kid and parents claim that they're going to pull him out of band if he doesn't bring his grades up.
As an aside, I don't believe that for a minute. They won't do a thing to help bring his grades up - meet with teachers, check grades on PowerSchool, check agendas - so I'm guessing this is some idle threat. So far, that's exactly what it is. No parent down in guidance demanding that Elf Boy quit band. In fact, what we're hearing is a giant bit of nothing. Parents aren't telling Mrs. Band this, Elf Boy is telling Mrs. Band that parents are telling him this. It's just bizarre.
In any case, I've spent a few of my free planning periods trying to get Elf Boy caught up on some of the larger assignments, which he finally did, but it wasn't enough to earn him anywhere close to passing. I did get to talk to him a few times about what happens to all the work that he claims to have done, but never turned in.
"I honestly do all of my work," he said to me. "But it disappears."
"Do you put it in your binder in the homework sections?" I ask him as we have the kids set up on a program similar to AVID where The Binder Holds All.
"No, not everything. A lot of it like my cell model I put on my dresser before I go to bed."
"And it's not there in the morning?" I ask him.
"No, every morning when I wake up everything I've put there is gone." His big round eyes are looking at me with dead seriousness at this point.
"Gone?" I ask.
"Gone," he confirms. "Every day."
"Without fail?"
He nods his head.
"So who's taking it?" I ask him as the stares at me. I'm thinking I'm going to hear a story now about Evil Sibling who's destroying his life by stealing all his work.
"I think it's gnomes," he says.
He is serious.
"Or maybe elves," he responds. "I'm not quite sure which."
"Have you considered an Orc?" I ask, the Sarcastic Bird taking flight.
"No, I don't think it's an Orc," he answers. "I'm thinking it's elves."
Oh. Good. Gracious.
Actually it was Fall Break (YIPPPEEE!)which was wonderful, but then coming back is just, well, a bit of a let down. See, I had to finalize grades for report cards which go out on Friday. And, out of 97 kids, 50 passed.
Yes, nearly 50% failed science. Amazing. However, I'm not alone. All the other 7th grade teachers had similar results. These kids just won't turn in work. If it's anything that leaves the room - homework, class work that isn't finished, a model, a project, anything - it will not be turned in.
I had one student, Elf Boy, who's a small kid, really sweet, and according to his records, is smart as a whip. But he's failing every single stinking class because he won't turn in work. His mother, whom I've emailed, called, you name it, is kind of vague about things like getting him into an after school tutoring program ("Well, uh, I don't know, maybe it would help," and comments like, "Oh, I only check my email about once a month, or so.") In any case, Mrs. Band is having fits because he's a good band kid and parents claim that they're going to pull him out of band if he doesn't bring his grades up.
As an aside, I don't believe that for a minute. They won't do a thing to help bring his grades up - meet with teachers, check grades on PowerSchool, check agendas - so I'm guessing this is some idle threat. So far, that's exactly what it is. No parent down in guidance demanding that Elf Boy quit band. In fact, what we're hearing is a giant bit of nothing. Parents aren't telling Mrs. Band this, Elf Boy is telling Mrs. Band that parents are telling him this. It's just bizarre.
In any case, I've spent a few of my free planning periods trying to get Elf Boy caught up on some of the larger assignments, which he finally did, but it wasn't enough to earn him anywhere close to passing. I did get to talk to him a few times about what happens to all the work that he claims to have done, but never turned in.
"I honestly do all of my work," he said to me. "But it disappears."
"Do you put it in your binder in the homework sections?" I ask him as we have the kids set up on a program similar to AVID where The Binder Holds All.
"No, not everything. A lot of it like my cell model I put on my dresser before I go to bed."
"And it's not there in the morning?" I ask him.
"No, every morning when I wake up everything I've put there is gone." His big round eyes are looking at me with dead seriousness at this point.
"Gone?" I ask.
"Gone," he confirms. "Every day."
"Without fail?"
He nods his head.
"So who's taking it?" I ask him as the stares at me. I'm thinking I'm going to hear a story now about Evil Sibling who's destroying his life by stealing all his work.
"I think it's gnomes," he says.
He is serious.
"Or maybe elves," he responds. "I'm not quite sure which."
"Have you considered an Orc?" I ask, the Sarcastic Bird taking flight.
"No, I don't think it's an Orc," he answers. "I'm thinking it's elves."
Oh. Good. Gracious.
Tuesday, September 01, 2009
Sweet but Lazy
I know, I know, I know that the first progress report every year is just downright awful. It takes new seventh graders a bit of time to adjust to seventh grade, to remember how to "do school" and to get with the program.
I know that.
I realize that.
I doesn't mean that I like it.
And true to form, dear readers, these kids walked home last Friday with some DREADFUL progress reports. And our first unit test wasn't even on it. If anything, their grades are worse this week than they were on Friday.
I don't think a single kid in my sixth period is passing.
Seriously.
These kids, while they are heads and shoulders above last year's group of future felons in terms of behavior, just don't do work. Or if they do it, they won't turn it in. And if it gets turned in it's just absolute crap.
Mrs. Bunny, who teaches reading, along with a few other seventh grade teachers came up with an observation, based on the quality of the work that we were getting, that these kids apparently got "effort" grades in the past for turning in anything. She noticed this when she started getting worksheets with the names of classmates listed as answers. These kids were simply filling in blanks with anything and turning it in.
And expecting a grade.
I took about ten minutes yesterday and had a discussion with each of my classes about this. They admitted that they were used to getting "effort" grades from most (not all) of their teachers last year. They admitted to just filling in blanks with nonsense.
I informed them that we didn't operate like that in seventh grade.
They were crestfallen.
I walked them through their workbook pages (which are written at a 5th grade level, mind you) and had them highlight key words and actually take time to READ the questions before they answered. They weren't reading the questions, taking the time to interpret what was being asked. Oh no...they were simply grabbing phrases out of the reading and plugging it in to get the Damn Workbook Packet Done So We Can Play Videogames, or whatever the hell they do all day when they aren't in school.
And of course I had quite a few kids come up, all aflutter, asking just How On Earth Can I Have an F in Science?
"Hum, let's see...maybe it's because you have seven missing assignments?"
This just blows them away. It's like it never DAWNS on them that this
has any BEARING on their grade.
Amazing.
Oh, and out of the 99 progress reports I sent out, mostly with failing grades, I've had two - count 'em two - parents bother to contact me about the grades.
Amazing again.
I know that.
I realize that.
I doesn't mean that I like it.
And true to form, dear readers, these kids walked home last Friday with some DREADFUL progress reports. And our first unit test wasn't even on it. If anything, their grades are worse this week than they were on Friday.
I don't think a single kid in my sixth period is passing.
Seriously.
These kids, while they are heads and shoulders above last year's group of future felons in terms of behavior, just don't do work. Or if they do it, they won't turn it in. And if it gets turned in it's just absolute crap.
Mrs. Bunny, who teaches reading, along with a few other seventh grade teachers came up with an observation, based on the quality of the work that we were getting, that these kids apparently got "effort" grades in the past for turning in anything. She noticed this when she started getting worksheets with the names of classmates listed as answers. These kids were simply filling in blanks with anything and turning it in.
And expecting a grade.
I took about ten minutes yesterday and had a discussion with each of my classes about this. They admitted that they were used to getting "effort" grades from most (not all) of their teachers last year. They admitted to just filling in blanks with nonsense.
I informed them that we didn't operate like that in seventh grade.
They were crestfallen.
I walked them through their workbook pages (which are written at a 5th grade level, mind you) and had them highlight key words and actually take time to READ the questions before they answered. They weren't reading the questions, taking the time to interpret what was being asked. Oh no...they were simply grabbing phrases out of the reading and plugging it in to get the Damn Workbook Packet Done So We Can Play Videogames, or whatever the hell they do all day when they aren't in school.
And of course I had quite a few kids come up, all aflutter, asking just How On Earth Can I Have an F in Science?
"Hum, let's see...maybe it's because you have seven missing assignments?"
This just blows them away. It's like it never DAWNS on them that this
has any BEARING on their grade.
Amazing.
Oh, and out of the 99 progress reports I sent out, mostly with failing grades, I've had two - count 'em two - parents bother to contact me about the grades.
Amazing again.
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
A Good Parent Lesson
Teachers and support staff had to report to school today for some reason only known by the individuals who create our yearly calendar. If that isn't bad enough, it was decided that we would also report tomorrow to make up the extra snow day that we used this year. The kids, however, are enjoying their summer break and were no where to be seen.
So, most of us spent the day packing up our rooms. We empty bookshelves, go through file cabinets, pack up odds and ends, and then label everything with our name and room number. The reasoning behind this is that our rooms are completely emptied during the summer while the custodial staff strips and waxes the floors, and touches up the paint. The key thing is to leave a map of how you want your room set up so that you don't have to struggle as much getting it together in late July when we show up to get the new year started.
I went to drop some items in some teacher mailboxes and cruised by guidance to see how the Guidance Goddess was doing. This is a crazy time of year for her, what with moving files on up to the high school, updating records, enrolling for summer school, and so on. I was kind of curious as to how many of my students had already enrolled for summer school (we had recommended about ten).
"So, how's summer school going?" I asked her.
"Really well," she said. "We have more registered today than we had all of last summer."
"That's pretty good. Mind if I see how many of mine have signed up?" I asked her.
"Of course not," she said as she handed me the list. "By the way, Gawky Girl was one of yours, right?"
Oh yeah, she was one of mine. She was one of the youngest kids on the team but was also one of the tallest. She was also smart as all get out, but did absolutely no work whatsoever, and consequently managed to fail seventh grade. This from a kid who should have been on the A B honor roll if she tried.
"Well, she's signed up," said Guidance Goddess. "You won't believe what her mom did, however."
"What did she do?" I asked. I had seen a few moms and their children marching grimfaced to the guidance office to register for summer school. You can bet that it wasn't a pleasant experience for either of them.
The Guidance Goddess continued. "I know the family and know that they are on fee waivers, so they wouldn't have to pay for summer school. So, I was reaching for the fee waiver list and mom told me to hold it right there. She wasn't going to utilize the fee waiver. She made Gawky Girl pay for it out of her birthday money."
"Seriously?" I asked. Accountability? Finally?
"Seriously," Guidance Goddess answered. "Gawky Girl was not happy, but mom insisted. She said maybe she'd learn to value her education if she actually had to pay for it."
Maybe the best birthday present this mom gave her daughter was the lesson that there are consequences to behavior. And sometimes those consequences hurt us in the wallet.
Way to go mom!
So, most of us spent the day packing up our rooms. We empty bookshelves, go through file cabinets, pack up odds and ends, and then label everything with our name and room number. The reasoning behind this is that our rooms are completely emptied during the summer while the custodial staff strips and waxes the floors, and touches up the paint. The key thing is to leave a map of how you want your room set up so that you don't have to struggle as much getting it together in late July when we show up to get the new year started.
I went to drop some items in some teacher mailboxes and cruised by guidance to see how the Guidance Goddess was doing. This is a crazy time of year for her, what with moving files on up to the high school, updating records, enrolling for summer school, and so on. I was kind of curious as to how many of my students had already enrolled for summer school (we had recommended about ten).
"So, how's summer school going?" I asked her.
"Really well," she said. "We have more registered today than we had all of last summer."
"That's pretty good. Mind if I see how many of mine have signed up?" I asked her.
"Of course not," she said as she handed me the list. "By the way, Gawky Girl was one of yours, right?"
Oh yeah, she was one of mine. She was one of the youngest kids on the team but was also one of the tallest. She was also smart as all get out, but did absolutely no work whatsoever, and consequently managed to fail seventh grade. This from a kid who should have been on the A B honor roll if she tried.
"Well, she's signed up," said Guidance Goddess. "You won't believe what her mom did, however."
"What did she do?" I asked. I had seen a few moms and their children marching grimfaced to the guidance office to register for summer school. You can bet that it wasn't a pleasant experience for either of them.
The Guidance Goddess continued. "I know the family and know that they are on fee waivers, so they wouldn't have to pay for summer school. So, I was reaching for the fee waiver list and mom told me to hold it right there. She wasn't going to utilize the fee waiver. She made Gawky Girl pay for it out of her birthday money."
"Seriously?" I asked. Accountability? Finally?
"Seriously," Guidance Goddess answered. "Gawky Girl was not happy, but mom insisted. She said maybe she'd learn to value her education if she actually had to pay for it."
Maybe the best birthday present this mom gave her daughter was the lesson that there are consequences to behavior. And sometimes those consequences hurt us in the wallet.
Way to go mom!
Friday, February 20, 2009
Finding Jeff Spicoli
I went to high school in Southern California in the late 70's. Remember the 1982 movie classic, "Fast Times at Ridgemont High"? That, my friends, could have easily been my high school. We actually had surfing as a physical education elective and it wasn't unusual to see stoned out surfer dudes sitting in class like the character of Jeff Spicoli, played by Sean Penn. In fact, my best friend Diane and I were often selected (because we were smart, nice girls and weren't likely to get crushes on idiots) to help peer tutor some of these potheads in a feeble attempt to help them graduate.
So to say that I know a stoner when I see one is a pretty fair assessment.
I have had, since day one of school, Spicoli Boy sitting in a dazed stupor in my Fourth Period Class From the Very Depths of Hell Itself. He's not a problem behavior-wise outside of the fact that there are times I feel a need to check his pulse to see that he's alive and hasn't just passed away sitting upright with his eyes half-closed. He never has a pencil. He never has paper. He never has a book, a binder, and certainly not a clue. I'm stunned, quite honestly, that he can even remember his schedule.
So imagine my surprise when I pull his records and find out that this kid is (was) as smart as a whip and actually was advanced on his Big Deal Government Mandated State Tests in the past. He did manage to pass sixth grade, although he exhibited a slide academically. This year, however, it's not a slide, but an out and out free-fall.
Every single one of us on the team has tried to reach this kid, pulling him aside to ask what's up, getting guidance to talk to him, seeing if he needs help with his locker, you name it. We have all tried getting his dad in for a meeting (parents are divorced, he lives with dad) which was singularly unsuccessful. My first call was three weeks into the school year and Spicoli Dad, who didn't sound all that focused himself, said he'd "take care of it". I've lost track of the phone calls we've made home.
Finally, Spicoli Mom made contact with guidance and after a few false starts we managed to get her in for a meeting to discuss what, if anything, we could do for this kid...after all, he did announce to Coach Math and his entire class that he was going to take the year off and just cruise because he'd get passed on anyway.
(Well, he's right, and that burns my ass like you have no idea, but that's a topic for another post.)
Our big dilemma was how to tell Spicoli Mom, without coming right out and saying "hey, your kid is stoned in class all the time," that her kid is, well, stoned in class all the time. That's a pretty serious accusation to make (without a drug test to back it up) and that could get us into some hot water.
Spicoli Mom seemed pretty together, and with it, and expressed her concern about his drop in grades, performance, and all. She was particularly interested in the fact that her ex refused to meet with us, and told us that he feels that Spicoli Boy is old enough to be responsible for his own schooling and he wasn't going to "baby-sit" him. (Great parenting skills there, eh?) She mentioned being concerned about the kids he hangs around with in the neighborhood, including an 8th grader and some high school kids, and would like to see a change in his choice of friends.
We all expressed concern about his lack of performance, pencil, paper, book, you name it, mentioned how he was "zoned", "spaced out", "not with us", in class, how he jumped when you called his name, how he didn't seem to socialize with kids on the team, just the older kids after school, and they were trouble. We mentioned that if she was concerned about his friends, "who could, perhaps, be doing things that aren't appropriate, such as experimenting with drugs and alcohol," that perhaps she and her ex may want to consider a change of school (she lives in another zone).
She nodded, expressed more concern, and said she'd see what she could do. She called me the next morning and said that Spicoli Boy cried big crocodile tears and said he always did all his work and turned it in and we all lost it and never gave him credit.
Really.
So, wanna guess who got popped, finally, for having a bit of weed on him the other day?
Think Spicoli Mom gets it now?
I'm not gambling on that one. Perhaps the judge will make it a bit more clear for her.
So to say that I know a stoner when I see one is a pretty fair assessment.
I have had, since day one of school, Spicoli Boy sitting in a dazed stupor in my Fourth Period Class From the Very Depths of Hell Itself. He's not a problem behavior-wise outside of the fact that there are times I feel a need to check his pulse to see that he's alive and hasn't just passed away sitting upright with his eyes half-closed. He never has a pencil. He never has paper. He never has a book, a binder, and certainly not a clue. I'm stunned, quite honestly, that he can even remember his schedule.
So imagine my surprise when I pull his records and find out that this kid is (was) as smart as a whip and actually was advanced on his Big Deal Government Mandated State Tests in the past. He did manage to pass sixth grade, although he exhibited a slide academically. This year, however, it's not a slide, but an out and out free-fall.
Every single one of us on the team has tried to reach this kid, pulling him aside to ask what's up, getting guidance to talk to him, seeing if he needs help with his locker, you name it. We have all tried getting his dad in for a meeting (parents are divorced, he lives with dad) which was singularly unsuccessful. My first call was three weeks into the school year and Spicoli Dad, who didn't sound all that focused himself, said he'd "take care of it". I've lost track of the phone calls we've made home.
Finally, Spicoli Mom made contact with guidance and after a few false starts we managed to get her in for a meeting to discuss what, if anything, we could do for this kid...after all, he did announce to Coach Math and his entire class that he was going to take the year off and just cruise because he'd get passed on anyway.
(Well, he's right, and that burns my ass like you have no idea, but that's a topic for another post.)
Our big dilemma was how to tell Spicoli Mom, without coming right out and saying "hey, your kid is stoned in class all the time," that her kid is, well, stoned in class all the time. That's a pretty serious accusation to make (without a drug test to back it up) and that could get us into some hot water.
Spicoli Mom seemed pretty together, and with it, and expressed her concern about his drop in grades, performance, and all. She was particularly interested in the fact that her ex refused to meet with us, and told us that he feels that Spicoli Boy is old enough to be responsible for his own schooling and he wasn't going to "baby-sit" him. (Great parenting skills there, eh?) She mentioned being concerned about the kids he hangs around with in the neighborhood, including an 8th grader and some high school kids, and would like to see a change in his choice of friends.
We all expressed concern about his lack of performance, pencil, paper, book, you name it, mentioned how he was "zoned", "spaced out", "not with us", in class, how he jumped when you called his name, how he didn't seem to socialize with kids on the team, just the older kids after school, and they were trouble. We mentioned that if she was concerned about his friends, "who could, perhaps, be doing things that aren't appropriate, such as experimenting with drugs and alcohol," that perhaps she and her ex may want to consider a change of school (she lives in another zone).
She nodded, expressed more concern, and said she'd see what she could do. She called me the next morning and said that Spicoli Boy cried big crocodile tears and said he always did all his work and turned it in and we all lost it and never gave him credit.
Really.
So, wanna guess who got popped, finally, for having a bit of weed on him the other day?
Think Spicoli Mom gets it now?
I'm not gambling on that one. Perhaps the judge will make it a bit more clear for her.
Sunday, January 18, 2009
The Year of the Coma
Team leaders (such as moi) got an email from Guidance Goober with a link to PDF files of all the failure letters that The School sent out this week. If a student is failing two or more classes, a letter went home explaining the possibility of retention (which will rarely happen), summer school, non-academic promotions and so forth. The letters are to be signed and returned to the homeroom teachers, so that we know that the parents actually saw the letter and Junior didn't get home and destroy the mail before the parents came home.
Out of 103 letters that went out, any guesses on how many belonged to seventh graders?
Ah, come on...just guess...you know you want to.
How about 52?
Yup. Fifty-freakin'-two.
Mrs. Eagle's team had the winning number of 22. My team had 17 and the balance belonged to Mrs. Bunny's team.
Are we surprised? No.
Disappointed. Of course.
Seventh graders, as a rule, seem to go into a coma during the school year. From the recent brain studies I've seen on adolescent brains, there's actually hard science to back this up. It's called puberty, to be blunt. The body is putting so much energy into growth and hormones and all that makes this age group so annoying, and the brain pretty much flat lines for about, say, nine months to a year. We're lucky they don't actually lose cognitive skills. I'm surprised most of them are alert enough to cross the street without getting hit by a car.
If I had a dollar for every kid that failed my class as a seventh grader, then moved on to 8th grade and passed with A's and B's and then ended up - yes! - in honors science classes in high school, I could perhaps buy myself a nice new pair of Danskos. It's depressing.
That's seventh grade - the Year of the Coma.
Out of 103 letters that went out, any guesses on how many belonged to seventh graders?
Ah, come on...just guess...you know you want to.
How about 52?
Yup. Fifty-freakin'-two.
Mrs. Eagle's team had the winning number of 22. My team had 17 and the balance belonged to Mrs. Bunny's team.
Are we surprised? No.
Disappointed. Of course.
Seventh graders, as a rule, seem to go into a coma during the school year. From the recent brain studies I've seen on adolescent brains, there's actually hard science to back this up. It's called puberty, to be blunt. The body is putting so much energy into growth and hormones and all that makes this age group so annoying, and the brain pretty much flat lines for about, say, nine months to a year. We're lucky they don't actually lose cognitive skills. I'm surprised most of them are alert enough to cross the street without getting hit by a car.
If I had a dollar for every kid that failed my class as a seventh grader, then moved on to 8th grade and passed with A's and B's and then ended up - yes! - in honors science classes in high school, I could perhaps buy myself a nice new pair of Danskos. It's depressing.
That's seventh grade - the Year of the Coma.
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