Sigh.
We finally - finally - had five whole days in a row this week and weren't interrupted by weather, holidays, or zombies running in the streets. It felt wonderful to get back into the flow of things and to finally get our genetics unit covered.
I finished grading all the tests on Thursday evening and entered the grades in PowerSchool. I was hoping that I'd see some good results because, firstly, we've been covering this unit for over a month although it has been interrupted a lot. Secondly, the classes that are test-driving the notebooks were allowed to use their notebooks during the test and the other classes could use their notes.
The results were, in a word, ugly.
Many students completely bombed the vocabulary test because they absolutely refuse to learn the words we use in science. Genetics has a lot of key words that if you don't know what they mean, you won't be able to answer the test questions. Homozygous, heterozygous, genotype, phenotype, allele, and so on. We went over, and over, and over these words and did project after project using these words, but when it came down to their test, they absolutely croaked. What made it worse, is that in order to answer the Punnett Sqaure questions, they had to know the difference between these words or they'd just mess it up beyond belief. What annoyed me even more is even with all the time we spend going over how to answer a test question (underline key words being one huge strategy), only ONE STUDENT even did that when it came to the Punnett Square word problems. So, not only did they not know the vocabulary (after nearly six weeks) but they didn't even bother to underline the important features of the questions.
They just failed miserably. And half the test we did in class, so all they had to do was pull out their notes and simply copy them. Very few kids had their notes out for their test, and even some of the notebook kids never once opened their notebooks.
So they tanked.
On an aside, for those of you who were wondering, Wiggly Boy did a bit better. He didn't pass, but he didn't fail nearly as bad as some of the others. And he was the one who prompted a discussion we had about personal responsibility on Friday when he told the class, "Well, I didn't bother to study at all so it was my fault I failed."
As I told them, I can't follow them home and make sure they do their homework. I can't follow them home to make sure they study. That's their parents' job. And if their parents aren't doing their job, then they're just going to have to sit back and realize that they have the tools at their disposal to be successful if they only had the personal responsibility to use them. It is up to them. If they think they're worth success, then that's what they need to work for. I believe every one of them can be successful, but they're going to have to start working towards that goal.
We have a much shorter unit (and hopefully no more snow days) so we'll see if they do any better this time. Some of them, perhaps, have learned that using your notes, when Mrs. Bluebird says you can, is not a waste of time.
But I truly am at my wits' end on what it takes to get these kids - and their parents - to care as much about their learning as I do.
Showing posts with label motivation. Show all posts
Showing posts with label motivation. Show all posts
Saturday, February 05, 2011
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.
Monday, October 26, 2009
Is it Me or Does it Echo In Here?
For the past two years, The District has utilized an on-line gradebook system called PowerSchool. I love it. I can update grades at home, run reports on missing work, progress reports, and probably reports I haven't thought of yet. Parents can check grades any time of the night or day, see that work is missing, and can even get grade updates emailed to them. Students hate it because parents can keep a really close eye on what they are, or more precisely, what they are not doing.
District surveys show that about 89% of our parents have access to email and a computer. I send out a weekly email to about 85% of my parents, so despite being one of the poorer buildings in the district, our numbers aren't too bad. Last year to save paper, they put the Code of Conduct and Student Handbook on line and parents had to sign a form saying that yes, they reviewed it with their kid or no, they needed a hard copy. This year I had one kid in my homeroom request a hard copy. So everything sounds hunky dory and all our parents are utilizing PowerSchool.
Except they aren't. I can go on-line and see the last time a parent or a student accessed PowerSchool and you would be amazed how many of them either haven't ever logged in, or how many logged in in August and never came back. Getting a password is not a challenge - they've been sent home at least twice, there is a table staffed by guidance at nearly every school event (except sporting events) where people can get their passwords. And I'm not the only teacher who sends out a weekly email that mentions checking grades in PowerSchool and to "contact Guidance Goddess at blah blah blah to get your password if you need it." Every single parent meeting we have we mention PowerSchool and if we get that blank look, we walk the parent down to Guidance, get their user name and password, and hopefully they can figure it out from there. All it takes is a little effort.
Last year The District decided that enough parents were on PowerSchool and that we would cease sending home paper Progress Reports. The Principal nixed that idea and said we'd keep sending them on paper because "it's the right thing to do", and since we had a feeling based on our numbers that PowerSchool wasn't being utilized like it should be. Considering the number of parents that went "What's PowerSchool?" when asked, we figured that we'd better do the paper thing.
This year we find out, courtesy of a front page story in the newspaper, that The District is moving to online report cards and will not be sending home paper report cards for the first grading period. Wonderful idea about moving to the 21st century, saving paper, going green, blah, blah, blah, blah...and parents that don't have access can request a paper report card, blah, blah, blah...
The Principal, again, said we'd send home a paper report card because "it's the right thing to do."
On Friday, there is an update to the news story - apparently the District folks did a survey of PowerSchool usage (probably prompted by the deluge of phone calls they received from people that wanted their passwords) and discovered that only 20% of the families in the District have ever logged on to PowerSchool.
Let me repeat that...20%. That's it. 89% supposedly have access to a computer but only 20% have made the effort to check their child's grades.
That silence you hear is the sound of parent involvement, or, more precisely, the lack thereof.
My team sent home 97 report cards. I had 47 students fail science for this nine weeks. To date, I have not heard a peep. No email, no call requesting a conference, nothing.
It's like they don't even care.
And we wonder why the kids don't care either.
District surveys show that about 89% of our parents have access to email and a computer. I send out a weekly email to about 85% of my parents, so despite being one of the poorer buildings in the district, our numbers aren't too bad. Last year to save paper, they put the Code of Conduct and Student Handbook on line and parents had to sign a form saying that yes, they reviewed it with their kid or no, they needed a hard copy. This year I had one kid in my homeroom request a hard copy. So everything sounds hunky dory and all our parents are utilizing PowerSchool.
Except they aren't. I can go on-line and see the last time a parent or a student accessed PowerSchool and you would be amazed how many of them either haven't ever logged in, or how many logged in in August and never came back. Getting a password is not a challenge - they've been sent home at least twice, there is a table staffed by guidance at nearly every school event (except sporting events) where people can get their passwords. And I'm not the only teacher who sends out a weekly email that mentions checking grades in PowerSchool and to "contact Guidance Goddess at blah blah blah to get your password if you need it." Every single parent meeting we have we mention PowerSchool and if we get that blank look, we walk the parent down to Guidance, get their user name and password, and hopefully they can figure it out from there. All it takes is a little effort.
Last year The District decided that enough parents were on PowerSchool and that we would cease sending home paper Progress Reports. The Principal nixed that idea and said we'd keep sending them on paper because "it's the right thing to do", and since we had a feeling based on our numbers that PowerSchool wasn't being utilized like it should be. Considering the number of parents that went "What's PowerSchool?" when asked, we figured that we'd better do the paper thing.
This year we find out, courtesy of a front page story in the newspaper, that The District is moving to online report cards and will not be sending home paper report cards for the first grading period. Wonderful idea about moving to the 21st century, saving paper, going green, blah, blah, blah, blah...and parents that don't have access can request a paper report card, blah, blah, blah...
The Principal, again, said we'd send home a paper report card because "it's the right thing to do."
On Friday, there is an update to the news story - apparently the District folks did a survey of PowerSchool usage (probably prompted by the deluge of phone calls they received from people that wanted their passwords) and discovered that only 20% of the families in the District have ever logged on to PowerSchool.
Let me repeat that...20%. That's it. 89% supposedly have access to a computer but only 20% have made the effort to check their child's grades.
That silence you hear is the sound of parent involvement, or, more precisely, the lack thereof.
My team sent home 97 report cards. I had 47 students fail science for this nine weeks. To date, I have not heard a peep. No email, no call requesting a conference, nothing.
It's like they don't even care.
And we wonder why the kids don't care either.
Monday, September 21, 2009
You Just Gotta Wonder
So we had a meeting with Skater Goober and his parents.
First off, out of the six meetings we've had scheduled so far, only three parents have shown up. I shouldn't complain. Mrs. Eagle has had only one show up (out of six) and they're darn glad she did because they all stayed after school for an hour to talk to this parent.
Anyhow....so SG's parents seem pretty together and with it. We talk about the fact he does nothing. We talk about the fact that they uncovered, like some strange archeological site, page after page of undone homework, worksheets, notes, and the like buried deep within the recesses of his backpack. They ask him why He Does Absolutely Nothing and he mumbles "Don't know," and just sits there like the oxygen thief that he currently is even though he's capable of much more. They ask to be emailed (Dad has a Blackberry for work and can show up at school within minutes) with updates daily. In fact, the next day when Skater Goober spends an entire class period and did one freaking vocabulary card (despite the nearly constant taps on his desk, prompting, etc.) I email Dad. Dad says he and Mom are going to come down and follow him around this week, most likely on Monday.
Did they come? Nope. Not yet.
And what did Skater Goober tell me?
"Hey, Mrs. Bluebird! Guess what? I got tickets to go see Kiss!"
"Really?" I ask. They bought Kiss tickets for this kid?
"Oh, yeah, isn't that cool?" he beams. He does not, by the way, have his book or his binder with him. I doubt he has his pencil. He is not, yet again, prepared for class.
"Well, all I can say is it's a good thing you're not my kid," I tell him.
"Really? Why?" he asks. (He really is clueless.)
"Because there's no way my husband would let you out of the house, let alone buy you Kiss tickets and let you go see Kiss unless you had passing grades in all your classes."
Skater Goober looks stunned. "Really? I mean, he'd really not let me go?"
"Really."
And then they wonder why the kids don't do anything.
First off, out of the six meetings we've had scheduled so far, only three parents have shown up. I shouldn't complain. Mrs. Eagle has had only one show up (out of six) and they're darn glad she did because they all stayed after school for an hour to talk to this parent.
Anyhow....so SG's parents seem pretty together and with it. We talk about the fact he does nothing. We talk about the fact that they uncovered, like some strange archeological site, page after page of undone homework, worksheets, notes, and the like buried deep within the recesses of his backpack. They ask him why He Does Absolutely Nothing and he mumbles "Don't know," and just sits there like the oxygen thief that he currently is even though he's capable of much more. They ask to be emailed (Dad has a Blackberry for work and can show up at school within minutes) with updates daily. In fact, the next day when Skater Goober spends an entire class period and did one freaking vocabulary card (despite the nearly constant taps on his desk, prompting, etc.) I email Dad. Dad says he and Mom are going to come down and follow him around this week, most likely on Monday.
Did they come? Nope. Not yet.
And what did Skater Goober tell me?
"Hey, Mrs. Bluebird! Guess what? I got tickets to go see Kiss!"
"Really?" I ask. They bought Kiss tickets for this kid?
"Oh, yeah, isn't that cool?" he beams. He does not, by the way, have his book or his binder with him. I doubt he has his pencil. He is not, yet again, prepared for class.
"Well, all I can say is it's a good thing you're not my kid," I tell him.
"Really? Why?" he asks. (He really is clueless.)
"Because there's no way my husband would let you out of the house, let alone buy you Kiss tickets and let you go see Kiss unless you had passing grades in all your classes."
Skater Goober looks stunned. "Really? I mean, he'd really not let me go?"
"Really."
And then they wonder why the kids don't do anything.
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
Party Time!
Sunshine and mild temps.
700 hot dogs and buns.
36 pizzas (cut into smallish squares)
1600 sodas.
400 bottles of water.
Dozens and dozens dozens of bags of candy.
A popcorn machine.
A cotton candy machine.
Nail painting, hair spraying, and temporary tattooing.
A dance.
Three inflatables in the parking lot.
A movie in the theater.
Door prizes ranging from MP3 players, iTunes gift cards, bathroom passes (like gold for a middle schooler), homework passes, McDonald's gift cards and more.
1000 middle school students who were on time every day and didn't miss a single one of The Very Big Deal Government Mandated Tests, and who earned "bucks" for exhibiting good test taking skills and were given the chance to spend them.
Three hours of the most amazing party The School has even thrown.
It rocked.
The best comment of the day came from the Guidance Goddess and Guidance Diva who were, for probably the first time all year, alone in the glass fronted office without a single kid waiting in a chair to see someone. "We sort of feel like the shop keepers in a town where a riot is going on and we've shuttered the windows and are peeking out now and then to watch the riot go by."
That's exactly what it seemed like. Inside guidance, calm, quiet, and peaceful. (Rare indeed). Outside? Running, yelling, screaming kids.
We fed them junk food, let them yell, run, scream, and hyped them up on sugar.
And then put them on buses and sent them home.
BAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!
I'm having a beer and watching the Stanley Cup Playoffs.
Twenty two and a half days...
700 hot dogs and buns.
36 pizzas (cut into smallish squares)
1600 sodas.
400 bottles of water.
Dozens and dozens dozens of bags of candy.
A popcorn machine.
A cotton candy machine.
Nail painting, hair spraying, and temporary tattooing.
A dance.
Three inflatables in the parking lot.
A movie in the theater.
Door prizes ranging from MP3 players, iTunes gift cards, bathroom passes (like gold for a middle schooler), homework passes, McDonald's gift cards and more.
1000 middle school students who were on time every day and didn't miss a single one of The Very Big Deal Government Mandated Tests, and who earned "bucks" for exhibiting good test taking skills and were given the chance to spend them.
Three hours of the most amazing party The School has even thrown.
It rocked.
The best comment of the day came from the Guidance Goddess and Guidance Diva who were, for probably the first time all year, alone in the glass fronted office without a single kid waiting in a chair to see someone. "We sort of feel like the shop keepers in a town where a riot is going on and we've shuttered the windows and are peeking out now and then to watch the riot go by."
That's exactly what it seemed like. Inside guidance, calm, quiet, and peaceful. (Rare indeed). Outside? Running, yelling, screaming kids.
We fed them junk food, let them yell, run, scream, and hyped them up on sugar.
And then put them on buses and sent them home.
BAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!
I'm having a beer and watching the Stanley Cup Playoffs.
Twenty two and a half days...
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