Getting my head out of the sand

It feels like I've had my head in the sand the last week or two. I haven't done much blogging about my job, because I've been so busy doing my job. I have been solving problems and stressing out. And, to top it all off, our home internet is down and the phone company are being turds. (Or is it, "is being a turd?") This prevents me from blogging at home after the kids are in bed provided my eyes are still open.

Here, in chronological order as they occur during the day, are the updates to all of my classes.

1st Hour: Seniors and juniors sailing along just fine on their independent music studies. My gum-chewing flute player thinks that doing grown-up band with me is a good idea. I agree, however she will probably not be allowed to chew gum at grown-up band.

2nd Hour: The fifth graders are remarkably well-behaved for kids that just got instruments to play. Which is to say that every moment with them with instruments in their hands is a challenge for me to keep them quiet, focused, and learning. But by hook or by crook, we have managed to learn a couple of notes despite all the talking and squirming and banging on drums and blasting trombone notes and questions and problems and anxiety and wanting to know if they can go to the bathroom and not lining up and being seventeen minutes late for their next class because they'd rather play with the saxophone than put it away and go do something boring like check out books.

3rd Hour: My choir-class-that-turned-into-independent-music-studies-class is also going fairly well, despite a recent downturn in mood in the room during this hour due to one of the students learning to play Barber's Adagio for Strings on the piano. If you have never heard Adagio for Strings, you should only listen to it in the bleakest part of winter when you need a good cry and have a couple of hours to spare, and a bottle of cheap gin would help too, because that's really the only way you can genuinely appreciate the stark raving sadness of this piece. It even makes me feel sad to think about a piece for fifty-seven violin, viola, cello and bass players being distilled down into a few piano notes.

4th Hour: The sixth graders are getting ready for their first quarter concert. Which is to say, they are getting ready to play songs out of their method book for a few staff members who have graciously agreed to stop by and listen. We will do our best to create a concert atmosphere with our behavior, a program (complete with skill sets for each song tied to district standards and benchmarks--hopefully that'll impress my boss, and why does it seem like I have so much extra time this year...oh, I'm not breast-pumping or nursing three times a day), and even, if I have my act together, cookies and tea.

5th Hour: LOUD. I've taken to bringing my work to a little desk outside my room and people walk by and say, Miss, are you in trouble???

6th Hour: Hokay. This is the class that made me cry two days in a row as soon as they left the room. The second day, I hunched over in a toilet stall (why is it that when we need a cry, women always choose the most disgusting place to do it--maybe it's because only by wallowing this low we realize that it's silly and then pull ourselves together and roll heads or whatever) and thought, dammit, this is the last day I cry.

I ran into another teacher in the hall and something she said really resonated with me: She said, I get mad, then I get even.

I thought, I'm pretty good at the getting mad part, but not so good at the getting even. So I made up a spreadsheet with all kids' names on it, and listed the bad behavior at the top.

Every time I saw students not paying attention while I was talking (nearly all), not being ready when I wanted to start playing (almost nearly all) and talking when they weren't supposed to be (all) I'd start going down my list and marking off students exhibiting that behavior. I'd stop class and cheerfully call out that student's behavior and then make a big show of hunting for their name--mostly it wasn't a show because I was so nervous that I forgot the students' last names. Usually the students would get quiet, and I'd go on.

After a few times of this, one girl asked, Miss, what are you doing? Oh, I cheerfully replied. I'm just documenting behavior for referrals.

That shut them up. Long enough to sight read the William Tell Overture (an arrangement, mind you) twice. Except technically the second time isn't sight-reading. And they did SO well. I wish someone would tatto "effort = success" on the backs of their arms. Because the effort really does result in success.

I may have said I was doing all of this cheerfully, because I am so determined to just stop getting mad, and go straight on to getting even. I hate writing referrals because it, well, it's so depressing; on the other hand, I'm not the one that needs to be crying after class.

It's time for these students to ask themselves, is it worth it to not pay attention and show some effort in band class?

The other coincidentally behavior-changing event that happened is our new homework policy kicked in. Right at the end of yesterday's class my boss came in to hand out the homework referrals, that basically say, kiddo, you go to the after-school homework program to get your stuff done or you're toast.

I'd done a number of these for kids who I think are struggling in band and therefore don't pay attention, and they are required to meet with me this coming Monday afternoon for some extra help. I did this because in a group that size, it's impossible, even in sectionals, to give every student some individual attention. Not only did the homework referrals help wake them up to their behavior, but I'm getting the idea--after I explained til I was blue in the face that it was not 'cause I think they're bad but because I want to give them extra help--that they now realize I care about them.

Huh.