Eep
I started my high school placement last week. Wow. It is amazing how much I have forgotten about high school in the past 8-9 years. How two students talking in the hallway can create a horrible clot of students that prevents anyone from getting to class on time. When trapped in that clot, how all one can smell is deodorant, hairspray, and a vague sense of oppression. Seeing how kids segregate themselves. Worksheets. Teachers yelling about notebook organization. How forgetting to get your interim signed can ruin your day. How you are only given 30 minutes to get to lunch, eat lunch, and get back. How a subsitute can make or break your day.
There are some differences of course. The school I am "teaching" at (did I mention that I realized I am a sucky teacher today?) has students whose handbags appear to be worth more than my car. It is way more diverse than the schools I attended in Hampton Roads. And it is huge. I remember thinking Grafton High was big. It seems cozy in comparison to the school I am at.
There are good teachers. There are bad teachers. There are scary teachers.
But most of all, I am astounded by the memories I have been having lately. Seeing students interact with one another, or just a random kid walking down the hall clutching a notebook can activate a memory I hadn't thought of in years.
For example, freshman year, my friends and I would congregate outside of the ROTC room in Tabb High. See, if you took a year of ROTC, you could get out of one year of PE. My friend Nick would always pretend to squeeze Capt. Piotrowski's uniformed rear whenever he bent over to help a student. His uniform was a bit tight.e He liked his uniforms tight.
John and I passed a "Blue Book" back and forth to one another, a continous written dialogue we had with each other. Most times, it was the only thing that made class interesting.
Renee, Nick, and I drawing on our chucks while riding the SOA bus. Renee and I both had Tweety Bird chucks.
In Latin class one day we had to read out loud. I mistakenly read the phrase "out of exile" as "out of X-Files." Only Matt Stith caught it and smiled at me from across the room. Not even the teacher noticed. We were all bored.
How band and chorus teachers hate it when someone cheers during a concert. Yeah, now I realize it was rude. But we were proud of our friends.
Most of all, I realize how frakkin' naive I was and frankly still am.
I do appreciate, however, that the students face different academic challenges than I did. I took a look at some of the SOL test questions regarding ancient Greece, something I thought I was well-versed on given my four years of Latin in high school. I didn't know most of it. And the class I am participating in, full of SPED, ESL, and other low-level students, have to know all of it for the SOLS. How sad that they and their teachers have to spend so much time memorizing random facts when they aren't spending time working on life-long skills they could use to look up those facts when they are needed. Let's face it-I adore history, but I don't claim to know every detail of any particular era. But I can analyze historical information and I know what resources I can use to look anything up that I would need to know. Isn't that more valuable?
There are some differences of course. The school I am "teaching" at (did I mention that I realized I am a sucky teacher today?) has students whose handbags appear to be worth more than my car. It is way more diverse than the schools I attended in Hampton Roads. And it is huge. I remember thinking Grafton High was big. It seems cozy in comparison to the school I am at.
There are good teachers. There are bad teachers. There are scary teachers.
But most of all, I am astounded by the memories I have been having lately. Seeing students interact with one another, or just a random kid walking down the hall clutching a notebook can activate a memory I hadn't thought of in years.
For example, freshman year, my friends and I would congregate outside of the ROTC room in Tabb High. See, if you took a year of ROTC, you could get out of one year of PE. My friend Nick would always pretend to squeeze Capt. Piotrowski's uniformed rear whenever he bent over to help a student. His uniform was a bit tight.e He liked his uniforms tight.
John and I passed a "Blue Book" back and forth to one another, a continous written dialogue we had with each other. Most times, it was the only thing that made class interesting.
Renee, Nick, and I drawing on our chucks while riding the SOA bus. Renee and I both had Tweety Bird chucks.
In Latin class one day we had to read out loud. I mistakenly read the phrase "out of exile" as "out of X-Files." Only Matt Stith caught it and smiled at me from across the room. Not even the teacher noticed. We were all bored.
How band and chorus teachers hate it when someone cheers during a concert. Yeah, now I realize it was rude. But we were proud of our friends.
Most of all, I realize how frakkin' naive I was and frankly still am.
I do appreciate, however, that the students face different academic challenges than I did. I took a look at some of the SOL test questions regarding ancient Greece, something I thought I was well-versed on given my four years of Latin in high school. I didn't know most of it. And the class I am participating in, full of SPED, ESL, and other low-level students, have to know all of it for the SOLS. How sad that they and their teachers have to spend so much time memorizing random facts when they aren't spending time working on life-long skills they could use to look up those facts when they are needed. Let's face it-I adore history, but I don't claim to know every detail of any particular era. But I can analyze historical information and I know what resources I can use to look anything up that I would need to know. Isn't that more valuable?
posted by waltzingmathilda @ 11:43 AM
1 Comments:
At 5:01 PM,
Anonymous said…
This is too weird. I was thinking about our Tweety Bird chucks the other day! Believe it or not I still have mine in a box at my mom's place. I also remember the "Blue Book"! I haven't thought about that in years...
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