At 4:45 today I left my school carrying three bags, two laptops, 26 paragraphs about "the best weekend ever" and the kind of maturity that only comes from being responsible for the safety, well-being, and (most importantly) education of the 26 scholars in room 309 at Pathway Academy. It's the end of week one and I survived. And it's weird because you'd think I'd be prepared. Most of my friends in Kansas City started last week so I had already heard the stories about children being handcuffed after fights in the hallway and high schoolers reading on a 5th grade reading level. Plus, no one gets into TFA without being utterly convinced of the reality of the achievement gap.
But today I gave my first assessment and I gave a rousing speech about how we'll be taking some sort of assessment every week all year and how important it is that we can show people and ourselves what we know. We sang our classroom theme song:
We are Ms. Brown's 4th grade STARS
We're Scholarly so we'll go far
We are Thinkers, Attentive too,
And Respect we'll show to you,
We're Sincere (that means honest)
We are STARS and
WE'RE THE BEST
And everyone started their assessments. Within 15 seconds five hands were in the air.
"Ms. Brown, I don't get the first question."
"Ms. Brown, what are we supposed to do?"
"How do I answer this?"
The question said: what does the M in M.E.A.L. stand for? We've been reciting it all week long. I think 5 of my scholars got that question right.
So we've got a long way to go. I definitely have a lot to learn still about how to teach 9 year olds and how to give explicit directions and how to help 4th graders get organized. But most of all I see that, though my kids are so smart, they haven't been given so many tools that they need to be successful after 4th grade.
Some days were bad. Some moments were good. My favorite moments include Marquan walking up to me during recess so he could sing "Man In the Mirror" for me; A'Keila hugging me before she left Wednesday and saying "usually my teachers are white." Dae'Toine telling me today that I was "the meanest teacher ever" and then a few hours later DeMarion saying I was the best teacher ever. Reading my childhood favorite poem "Honey, I Love" for the class... and having them beg to hear it again the next day. In the midst of counting down for silence 15 times a day and taking away 5 minutes of recess time and sending Cheyenne back up the stairs to show me how we walk appropriately ("Cheyenne, this is not an argument. You will do what I say and I will be calling your mother so we can talk about what we can do to make sure you are following directions at school") and Latrell getting so angry he cries once a day... In the midst of all of that, I am falling in love with my 4h graders.
There was one moment, yesterday when we were working on a short math practice work sheet and everyone was on task and I was able to walk around and check for understanding, answer questions, fulfill my core teacher duties... and I could see just a glimpse of how exceptional our class could be. It was a great moment and one I'm trying to hold on to. Now the real work starts.
With Love,
Shelli
