The whole purpose of starting this blog was to share some of my funny stories. Since that has yet to happen, here we go.
Around the middle of October one of my classes started their sewing unit. Teaching high school students to sew is not a task for the faint of heart. You have to expect the unexpected. Be prepared for anything, and hope that they have paid enough attention to you that they don't seriously injure themselves. I can proudly say that both sections of this class made it through the unit with no serious mishaps. (Only one minor burn from the iron.) Anyway, back to the story.
Among my inherited possessions in my classroom were 5 irons that appeared to be from the 1970s. I am nothing if not frugal in my classroom, so just because something is old does not mean it cannot be used. I had 1 newer iron, but sharing 1 iron among 10 to 15 students creates a bit of a traffic jam. So one day when we were particulary congested, I pulled out the relics. We plugged them in and added water for the steam. The first two leaked. The third wouldn't get hot, so on to the fourth we went. At this point I was called away to help another student with a sewing machine problem, leaving two of my responsible girls in charge of watching the iron. A few minutes go by and one comes to me asking if the iron is supposed to be steaming. I look up and small puffs of steam are occasionally coming from the bottom. Success! We have an iron that works. Or so I thought.
A minute or so later, the girls come rushing back over, saying there's something wrong. I walk towards the front of the room to investigate, and there is not steam coming from the iron, but smoke! Lots of smoke billowing out from around the sides! My first thought? Oh Crap! I quickly unplugged the iron, turned on a fan, and had students open the windows while I'm frantically waving my arms around trying to disperse the smoke and avoid setting off the alarm that is overhead. (Come to find out, I do not have smoke detectors in my room, only heat detectors. Thanks goodness!)
Needless to say we didn't try out iron number five. I decided one close call to setting my room on fire was enough and the irons from the 70s went promptly into the trash. Thankfully Dollar General had a sale on some pretty good irons and I had some classroom money left.
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
Sunday, April 10, 2011
The Teaching Lifestyle
It's amazing how much changes in a year. A year ago I was still substitute teaching and waiting for the next interview. I was insecure and only dreaming about having a full time job. Now I'm living that dream. Every day I get to go to a job that I love. But it's more than that.
At the beginning of the year our superintendent told us teaching is not a job; it's a lifestyle. Little did I know how true that was. Rarely do I do something outside of school without coming up with an idea for a class. My plans revolve around school events and extra curricular activities. I can't go shopping without thinking about the school dress code. Cuteness is not longer the only factor in picking out shoes. It's nearly impossible to leave school at school, and it's difficult for me to have a conversation with someone without bringing up my students or classes. It's a physically and emotionally draining profession, but to me the rewards far outweigh the negatives.
I once had an administrator ask me when I was a senior in high school, "Why do you want to teach? You have endless possibilities!" He seemed to think I was "settling" for teaching. Was I capable of other great things? Sure, but that wasn't what I wanted. I've always loved school and learning, so it was a natural choice for a profession. But home ec? A lot of people have the idea that FACS is useless. In fact, some of my students have that view. But I beg to differ. (Of course I would, right?) I teach kids that don't know how to cook anything without a microwave, don't know anything about reading a recipe or doing laundry. They come from broken and abusive homes and don't know the first thing about communication or what a good relationship looks like. They know nothing about insurance, loans, or making a budget and keeping a checking account. If they have a hole or lose a button, they don't know how to fix it. Now I'm not turning them into professional chefs, financial gurus, or custom tailors, but I am making a difference. I see the pride in their first successful foods lab. I hear the stories of how they're communicating with their boyfriends and having fewer fights. I see the results of sewing a button back on their coat and the excitement of making good decisions with their money. So you tell me, do we need FACS teachers?
(*Disclaimer - I am in no way suggesting that my subject is more important than any other. I am only arguing my equality.)
I love looks when they finally understand why we've been doing these things in class. It means they;re learning something, and all my teaching is not in vain. The great thing is I've not been the only one teaching in my classroom this year, nor have my students been the only ones learning. My students have taught me countless lessons. They've taught me how to be a better teacher and a better person, and they've taught me to celebrate the small successes. These students have become my children. I cheer at their games, laugh at their jokes and antics (classroom appropriate of course), smile at their happiness, and cry with their pain and sorrow over things they should never have to face as teenagers (even though they never see my tears for them). And I hope that through this process of learning together that I have touched at least one life even half as much as they have all touched mine. Because that is the reason I teach.
At the beginning of the year our superintendent told us teaching is not a job; it's a lifestyle. Little did I know how true that was. Rarely do I do something outside of school without coming up with an idea for a class. My plans revolve around school events and extra curricular activities. I can't go shopping without thinking about the school dress code. Cuteness is not longer the only factor in picking out shoes. It's nearly impossible to leave school at school, and it's difficult for me to have a conversation with someone without bringing up my students or classes. It's a physically and emotionally draining profession, but to me the rewards far outweigh the negatives.
I once had an administrator ask me when I was a senior in high school, "Why do you want to teach? You have endless possibilities!" He seemed to think I was "settling" for teaching. Was I capable of other great things? Sure, but that wasn't what I wanted. I've always loved school and learning, so it was a natural choice for a profession. But home ec? A lot of people have the idea that FACS is useless. In fact, some of my students have that view. But I beg to differ. (Of course I would, right?) I teach kids that don't know how to cook anything without a microwave, don't know anything about reading a recipe or doing laundry. They come from broken and abusive homes and don't know the first thing about communication or what a good relationship looks like. They know nothing about insurance, loans, or making a budget and keeping a checking account. If they have a hole or lose a button, they don't know how to fix it. Now I'm not turning them into professional chefs, financial gurus, or custom tailors, but I am making a difference. I see the pride in their first successful foods lab. I hear the stories of how they're communicating with their boyfriends and having fewer fights. I see the results of sewing a button back on their coat and the excitement of making good decisions with their money. So you tell me, do we need FACS teachers?
(*Disclaimer - I am in no way suggesting that my subject is more important than any other. I am only arguing my equality.)
I love looks when they finally understand why we've been doing these things in class. It means they;re learning something, and all my teaching is not in vain. The great thing is I've not been the only one teaching in my classroom this year, nor have my students been the only ones learning. My students have taught me countless lessons. They've taught me how to be a better teacher and a better person, and they've taught me to celebrate the small successes. These students have become my children. I cheer at their games, laugh at their jokes and antics (classroom appropriate of course), smile at their happiness, and cry with their pain and sorrow over things they should never have to face as teenagers (even though they never see my tears for them). And I hope that through this process of learning together that I have touched at least one life even half as much as they have all touched mine. Because that is the reason I teach.
Wednesday, April 6, 2011
What are they thinking?
My students never fail to amaze me. Sometimes that's a postive thing. Other times. . . not so much. While I care about each of them tremendously, sometimes all I can do is shake my head.
For example, the other day as I walk into the room from doing hall duty between classes, one of my students is moving a chair. I didn't think much of it. I have a couple of chairs that have cracks in them, and the girls often complain about their hair getting caught. Later as I walk to the back of my room, I notice one of my chairs is missing a chunk out of the back! Not just a little chip, a piece bigger than my hand. Close to a fourth of the back of the chair.
(In order to understand how I missed this, it's important to know that I have a half wall in my room separating two of my kitchens. This wall separates the back of my room from the table and chairs section and has a lower counter to use when we sew. Hence the chair in the back of the room.)
How exactly did they expect me to not notice part of the chair missing? The logic (or lack there of) puzzles me. Some of the things they think they can get away with amaze me.
For example, the other day as I walk into the room from doing hall duty between classes, one of my students is moving a chair. I didn't think much of it. I have a couple of chairs that have cracks in them, and the girls often complain about their hair getting caught. Later as I walk to the back of my room, I notice one of my chairs is missing a chunk out of the back! Not just a little chip, a piece bigger than my hand. Close to a fourth of the back of the chair.
(In order to understand how I missed this, it's important to know that I have a half wall in my room separating two of my kitchens. This wall separates the back of my room from the table and chairs section and has a lower counter to use when we sew. Hence the chair in the back of the room.)
How exactly did they expect me to not notice part of the chair missing? The logic (or lack there of) puzzles me. Some of the things they think they can get away with amaze me.
An Introduction
My first year of teaching is nearly over, and I've been thinking about all of the things that have happened this year. I have lots of great memories and funny stories, so I thought, why not share? Hopefully this will provide some good laughs and give you an insight to my world of Family and Consumer Sciences (FACS).
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