Jumpin' Off the Edge

I never considered myself a good writer. I still don’t. My vocabulary is never as dynamic as I intend. My words lack the poetry I desire. Often my writing is in need of some polishing. Yet even with all my insecurities about it, shadows of my thoughts are available for anonymous voyeurs of my words. In the past ten months, I have begun to own the wisdom I often impart to my students. Writing can help you process what is happening in your life - be it change, loss, anger, celebrations, etc… What you do with it is up to you. It is the process of writing that contains the power. What began for me as writing for others, a way to keep those close to me informed of my crazy world, has turned into a part of my life. I now write for me. That others enjoy it and follow along with my life, is a compliment. (I am shocked and amazed by the number of people who read and the many different countries represented. That is an entry for another time.) Writing has become a way to slow down the sp

In the past week, I have celebrated with students as they heard the news they passed the test; I have consoled students who are still uncertain about whether they will be promoted or not; I have broken the news to students that they are being considered for retention; and I have called many parents with the news that their child has failed the test yet again. In the midst of all the testing and paperwork, I tend to forget that life goes on outside of the four walls of school. Today, I was reminded with a phone call. Last week I had my first mammogram in ten years. I figured it was the responsible thing to do considering my grandmother had breast cancer and I now have insurance. I laughed and joked with the mammography technologist as she placed stickers on my nipples. I posed in each awkward position with a smile for the camera. As I left the building, I thought no more about it. Until today when I listened to my messages. It seems I need to go back for a diagnostic mammogram i

Dear NCDPI (North Carolina Department of Public Instruction): This past week students began telling me that their learning was over for the year. After I picked my jaw up off the floor, I asked them what they were talking about. It seems that once the End-of-Grade tests are over, they feel that school is over. Never mind the fact that there are still three weeks of school left. While I understand the purpose behind the End-of-Grade testing, I am concerned about the effect it is having on the learning of our students. I believe it is time to put less emphasis on the testing and more on the things NCDPI deem important for teachers to be evaluated on such as how well we implement and teach 21 st century skills and cultural awareness; use differentiated instruction; use and display student creative work; have our students collaborate; and the use of lessons encouraging critical thinking. Unfortunately, the test and teacher evaluations do not compliment each other very well. Before

After reading over this, I realized my writing tonight does not flow the way I would like it to. Therefore, sometime in the near future I will be doing some revision. Until then, I had to get it out to clear my mind a bit. I hope it makes sense.   Yesterday I started writing about this thing called End-of-Year testing here in North Carolina. Needless to say, I stopped writing after a paragraph and proceeded to fall asleep at 8:15pm. The blog unwritten. Shocked at the exhaustion that administering a test caused, I closed my eyes and gave in to it. Today was the second day of testing. It went pretty much the same way as it did the day before. Watch the students fill in bubbles before laying their heads down on the table to sleep. The rest of the day we had shortened classes. It was make-up work and games in my classroom. The students were able to handle little else. The 8 th graders left school wondering if their parents would get a phone call informing them that they did n

 American Idol is one of my shows. The variety of music that has been on the show this season has drawn me in. My favorites from the beginning were Casey, James, and Scotty. Scotty is the only one of the three who remains. An added bonus is that he comes from Garner, North Carolina – about 30 minutes from Benson. Scotty was coming back to his hometown for a quick concert. One of my students could talk of nothing else all week. “Are you going, Mrs. Victor?”  I had been contemplating attending ever since I found out about it. I really wanted to go, but I didn’t want to go alone. While I rocked Third Eye Blind with complete strangers, I wasn’t up to it a second week in a row. Scotty’s trip home was all over the radios, television, and newspapers all week. It didn’t matter the genre of the show – sports, news, rock, country….all were talking about Garner’s moment of fame. The question was, would I be there? Saturday morning had me up bright and early. I bought the paper and read all

“How do you just look at a music video and know how to use it in class?” It is not just music videos, it is everything around me. I am always looking for new ways to get students involved and interested in their learning. I talk to an older person about their history and I immediately think – oral histories. Have the students interview them and compile a book. At town clean-up day I was thinking about ways to get the students more involved in the community. Working out every morning, I think about where I can get a grant to get a teen program going for typically inactive students. Museums. Events. Television shows. Movies. Music videos. Music. Poetry. Theme. Compare and contrast. Persuasion. Higher level thinking. It all goes together. Today was no exception. The music of Linkin Park kept us all sane as the raucous of EOGs could be felt. Before we watched the video, I asked the students to determine the message that Linkin Park wanted us to get when watching it. To do so, they

Remember the day last week when one of my students refused to do what I asked of him? Two days ago this same student became the teacher. Literally. Reviewing for state testing whether in North Carolina or Maine is not the most exciting class ever. By Tuesday, we had been reviewing for about a week and the 8 th graders were sick of my voice. I jokingly asked if anyone wanted to teach the class. In no time, I had a volunteer. I was a bit apprehensive as he enthusiastically took the front of the classroom. However, in no time, I was blown away. He had the attention of his classmates. He involved students that don’t usually get involved. He was a natural at teaching! When behavior was getting out of control with a couple students, he quietly gave them a ‘Refocus’. (A form students fill out in another classroom in an attempt to get their behavior back on track.) At one point he gave me a refocus when I interrupted him. I played along and filled it out. At lunch, he sat at the ‘teach

Dear Mom, I have started this piece of writing several times now. Each time, words can’t seem to express all I want to say to you this Mother’s Day. I tried a poem, several essay-style, and even a list. Throughout all of my attempts a common theme emerged as memories flooded my mind…my mother - strong, brave, and courageous. Whether as I was getting kicked out of Sunday school, dating the bad boys, recuperating from an eye injury, running with a band, becoming a single mother, stating that Tony and I were going to be living apart, or any of the many other choices I made over the years, you stuck with me even when challenging me. I am sure there have been many times when it can’t have been easy being my mother. What I remember are the times you were the epitome of a stay-at-home mother. My laundry was always clean and folded. (Sometimes still clean and folded when I left it in the laundry basket to be washed again rather than put it away.) The house was always clean and comfort

Earlier this week I was questioning my choice of profession. I am not sure where or how I lost my enjoyment of it all on Wednesday. It might have had something to do with the boys who would not stop talking. Or the one that refused to do what I asked of him. Or maybe the lack of planning time due to students need of me. I went home with the echoes of student voices in my head. Voices asking why I was being mean. Even as I ranted about the absurdity of state testing, a little voice inside me was saying, “Look for the positive!” 11:30pm after a long day it did not find me. However, in the next few days, I fell in love with teaching all over again. I don’t know what it was about Thursday and Friday that made the days so spectacular. Student behavior did not change much. It must have been me. Even after going to bed two hours later than usual, I got up at 4:30 and hit the gym. I have found when I compromise my workout time, I don’t like being around me let alone anyone else. While I

AAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGG!!!!!! I am screaming. Today was one of those days. I haven’t had many in my 18 years of teaching. However, today was one of those days I questioned why I didn’t go into the business of selling mattresses. When things get a bit hectic, I could just disappear into dreamland for a bit. Instead, I chose the world of middle school teaching. When things got hectic today, I disappeared into a nightmare. A nightmare of defiance and EOG preparation. As I step into the First Circle of EOG Hell, I find I am becoming anxious along with the students. We have been encouraged to really focus on preparing the students for this test. Practice. Go over test-taking strategies. Practice some more. Have them read boring material for hours on end. I look at the targeted score for my students. In two of my classes, the state predicts only ten percent of my students will pass it. The voice of reason in my head is drowned out by questions of the irrational, NCLB (No Chi

A voice on the other end asks to come down and talk. I put my planning aside and welcome her in. With red-rimmed eyes, she tells me of poor choices made and the desire to be a different person. Choices have caught up to her. Those around her having difficulty in believing her intent, her honesty. Only she knows what is real. I sit and listen offering a word or two here and there. “What kind of person do you want to be?” “I don’t know,” is all she can say wondering what trouble will come her way. She stands at a crossroad pondering whether to continue the path she knows or take the risk to become someone else, to stand out among her peers. The uncertainty of what she will face at home after one more phone call, one more reminder to her mother of the man in jail that she called, “Daddy.” Will it be counseling and the risk to tell a stranger Everything? Will it be a group home and separation from her friends and feel Alone? Out of her control, whatever the consequence, how she lives it

I have been sitting at the table drowning in a pile of grading and lesson plans for the last 10 hours. All my grading is done with the exception of 25 or so poetry books. I have plans to do them tomorrow during my planning. Bahahahaha….I don’t know when the last time was that I had that 90 minutes all to myself. Lately, it has been spent with students or in meetings. I don’t have a choice about the meetings and I am there for the students. Therefore, work comes home. Only I have reached my limit tonight. After break, students come back to school ready to start their summer. I understand this sentiment. As soon as we came back to school, discussions of EOGs began. I was given a 200 page manual that I need to read cover to cover before administering the test. Add to that the meeting going over all the rules and my planning time for that day was gone. The other planning periods were given up in a more enjoyable way – with students. So, here I sit trying to figure out what to do with my