rubinc in nyc!

I’m three for seven on dwarfs whose names describe me today. I was actually looking forward to work this morning, since Fridays are my lightest teaching load - every other day I have three classes for a single period and one for a double, but since I only have four classes I get one glorious day in which I only teach four single periods. I was super-excited about using my preps to keep unpacking all the boxes that are still arriving, and especially to hang up the GIANT periodic table we got for the lab.

Unfortunately, when I showed up this morning there was a notice on the office door that something like 12 teachers were out, and “we appreciate the support of all teachers in making today a productive learning day despite these absences.” I instantly died a little inside, because I instantly knew what it meant: coverages. When too many teachers are out for the school’s two on-staff substitutes to cover them, they give the regular classroom teachers “coverages” - meaning you have to give up a prep to teach a teacher-less class. Since I was supposed to have three preps today, I had a lot to give up. So instead of teaching four single periods, two of those singles got turned into doubles - it ended up being the heaviest teaching load of the week, and totally exhausting. Ugh. When I went to pick up one of my coverages classes from lunch and they saw they had me as a sub, one of the most annoying students started groaning and complaining, “We have you? WHY??” It was really hard for me not to inform her that the feeling was totally mutual.

So, TGIF, except that I volunteered to teach at Super Math Saturday tomorrow. There’s only two weeks before the big math test, and some of the kids are way more than two weeks away from being prepared. So for the next two Saturdays my school is having extra math tutorials from 9 - 12. I’d like to say that I volunteered to teach out of the sheer goodness of my heart, but I think it also has something to do with the six hours of overtime pay I’ll be getting…

Also, my spring allergies are starting to kick in. Hence the third dwarf name.

Half day today for afternoon parent-teacher conferences, yay! There was a pretty good turnout, including the parents of some of my most problematic students. It’s kind of awkward explaining to a parent that their kid deliberately farts in other kids’ faces, or goes to the water fountain and walks around the room seeing if he can squirt water on every single kid without having to get another mouthful, or pretends that I am invisible (I have a student who does this, and it is almost worse than backtalk because no matter what I say or do, he literally stares at the wall and hums until I give up). It’s also very satisfying to talk to the parents of the “good kids,” since they get so happy and excited when you praise their kid to the stars and show them all the quizzes and tests that they have aced. Ms. L had a mom cry because she was so happy. Awww…

My favorite conference was the one that started with me asking the student, “Would you like to explain to me and your mother your obsession with punching boys in their private parts?” and ended with the mother going on a ten-minute rant that began “You know I don’t like to get ghetto, but I can when I have to, and girl you are making me get ghetto on you…” and progressed to, “…You know if someone punched your brother in his area I would go to her house and have words with her and her mother, and if one of those boy’s parents comes to have words with me you know I will have to say something back, and then you know how it will go, and the police will get involved, and how can I pick you and your little brother up from school if I AM IN JAIL BECAUSE YOU CAN’T KEEP YOUR HANDS TO YOURSELF?!?!” That’s so much more intense than the, “eat your broccoli or starving Malaysian orphans will die” hyperbole that I got as a kid. At least, I hope that part about jail was hyperbole.

Assembling the foam cell models at lunch today was every bit as glorious as I had been anticipating. It was almost as good as assembling all my IKEA furniture when I moved to New York!

Ms. L and I stayed until 5:00 again unpacking the rest of the first shipment of boxes. Apparently I misunderstood yesterday; those weren’t the first 15 boxes of 41. Those were the first 15, and 41 more are coming. I don’t know if I’m excited or scared.

Also, I fell off a table when I was hanging shiny new posters in the lab after school. I’m glad only Ms. L was around, because if any student had seen it I would never live it down.

Remember the $25,000 Ms. L and I got to go nuts on science education catalogs with? Today we got all the goodies we ordered! Well, not all the goodies, just the first installment of 15 boxes. Yes, that’s right, the first installment alone was 15 boxes. The total that we’re expecting is 41. That’s 41 big boxes crammed full of everything from cell models to test tubes to inspirational science posters. We only got through opening, sorting, and unpacking the first 8 boxes today (those of you that know me know that I am all about sorting and organizing), and it was the most fun I’ve had at work in a long time. It was so exciting every time we opened a box because they had packed each one as compactly as possible - so nestled in a bed of plastic beakers would be a plastic femur, and the whole thing would be resting on top of a K’Nex bridge-building set. Awesome. I’m looking forward to lunch tomorrow an embarrassing amount because I get to spend it assembling the beautiful foam cell models we bought.

The reason we had to stop our unpacking early (if 5:00 is early) is because tonight was parent-teacher conferences. I was a lot less nervous than last time, despite being sweaty and dusty from spending two hours stocking shelves in the science supply closet. They went pretty similarly to last time, the exception being a parent I hadn’t previously met who apparently thought she was talking to one of her daughter’s friends for the first minute or two of our conference. Still, it beats Ms. M, who had a student’s little brother excitedly greet her with “It’s Hannah Montana!” Also, it was really fun to have Alexander (the “King of Table 6″) explain to his mother why he wouldn’t take his jacket off yesterday.

The other kind of cool thing today was when, after our lesson on properties of living things, I asked my students if, based on our definition (made of cells, needs energy, grows, reproduces, and responds to the environment), humans could ever build a robot that is “alive.” Harlow and Esther, who are usually quite apathetic, got into an intense debate about it, with Harlow insisting that since robots aren’t made of cells they can never be living. Esther countered with the idea of a skin-covered robot, and Harlow retorted that covering a table in skin doesn’t make it alive. Esther involved Terminator in the discussion, but then Harlow rather decisively ended it with, “Look, robots are always made by humans, so they aren’t reproducing, they’re produced. Even if they are programmed to make more robots, the first one is always made by a human.” I was impressed by how impassioned and articulate she became as the debate continued, since she usually literally sleeps through class. If only I can get her that invested in every lesson…

Going back to work after a week off is always a soul-crushing experience, and that’s pretty much all I have to say about today. Also, Alexander tied his jacket around his neck like a cape and refused to take it off, declaring “I am the king of table 6!”

When I got back I had the following helpful postcard waiting for me from Lehman college:

Student Email Information

As you may know, all registered Lehman students are assigned a web-based email account by the college. I urge you to access your email account regularly.

Lehman student email is a quick way to communicate a wide array of important college information…[instructions on how to access your webmail].

Lehman instructors will regularly communicate with you by email and important systems provided by the [Lehman student website] will only utilize your Lehman email address. Be sure to stay informed by checking your Lehman email. The college will assume that you are reviewing your email on at least a weekly basis.

Did they seriously send a postcard to all 10,000 Lehman students explaining to us what email is? I guess that’s still not quite as bad as the Department of Education’s email service, which you have to call a customer service line to register for.

I’m a TFA Amgen Fellow, which basically means that every now and then Amgen gives me several hundred dollars to spend on something science-y for my classroom. I have until the first week of March to figure out what to do with the current grade they’ve given me (anyone have any good ideas for how to spend $600 on a science class project?), but I used the last one to buy a document camera. It took awhile for it to come and for Ms. L and I to figure out how to use it, but now that we have a Smartboard we can use it super-easily every day. I was really excited to get it, because I often don’t trust my kids enough to do an experiment at their desk but still want them to be able to see it, but there is really no good way to arrange the classroom so every student can see me doing a demonstration. With the document camera, I can project what I’m doing onto the board, and everyone can have a front row seat! Today was the big classroom debut of the document camera, and I decided to use it to show them the food-coloring-and-soap-in-milk experiment: fun, visually pleasing, and too messy for them to do themselves.

So I hype the document camera and the experiment waaay up first period, and get the kids really excited about it. I set up the experiment, turn on the camera and the projector, reach in my hand to drop in the soap, and… the entire class freaks out. The document camera has a little light on it to illuminate what it is recording, and it does not do the best job adjusting the contrast. For a plate full of milk and food coloring, it doesn’t really matter if the contrast is a little off. But for a human hand… basically, my hand looks like it belongs to a 100-year-old woman when it’s being projected via the documen camera - every vein, freckle, and tendon stands out in grotesque detail. Also, my skin looks white and my hair black, so it looks like I have incredibly hairy arms. I cannot put any part of myself under the document camera without my kids shrieking about how gross and hairy I look, and I can’t blame them - my hands really do look gross and hairy under it. Now I am torn - I love my new toy, but I’m embarassed to use it because it gives me hairy witch hands! I need to figure out how to do demonstrations under it without letting my hands into the frame, otherwise my students (and, let’s be honest, myself) will be unable to focus on and watch the actual demonstration.

On a happier note, I got a Valentine from a student today! Granted, it’s one of those pre-made class set ones, but it’s still sweet. It’s a little odd, though, because in the “To:” field she only wrote “Rubin.” I guess the “Ms.” part would have been too much effort.

And on the happiest note of the day, I had this email from Shadasia waiting for me when I got home today:

im trying so hard to ingore people. But i have noticed that i could be very annoying. And i just want to say sorry for not following dicretions on friday 13. You told me to sit down and take of my scraft and i just completely ingore you. Instead of ingoring you i should ingore my classmates right. Well i apolgized if i cost you any stressed and fustration while you was teaching the class. I am truely trying to get my act together.

NYC schools have next week off for midwinter recess, so I’ll be back on the 23rd!

Is that, at my school at least, they require practice runs along the way. The next big test for NYC educators to worry about is the math test in March, and my administration decided to administer a practice one today to figure out what areas the students are weakest in and therefore how to make the most of the time remaining before the real test. The initial plan was to administer it during math class, but the math teacher pointed out that doing so would waste one of the few days of math instruction remaining. Here is where I, the good colleague and noble teacher, jumped in and volunteered to administer the test during science class - thus saving myself and my still-swollen throat lining a day of yelling. I am a genius.

Also, while I was writing the start and stop times for the test up on the board, a student decided to let me know about some stray chalk dust by calling out, “HEY MISS, YOU GOT MAD CHALK ON YOUR PANTS!!” For some reason I thought that was hilarious.

AND, I don’t know if I’ve mentioned before that I put my “science slogan” at the bottom of every handout I give the kids: Work hard. Be nice. Science rules! Usually kids ignore it or cross out “science” and replace it with their name, but recently one kid has taken to correcting it with “It doesn’t rule, it rocks!!” I’m not really sure why “rocks” is better than “rules,” but it’s still pretty sweet.

Today was the 100th day of the school year. That’s 100 mornings getting up while it’s still dark outside to get to school early enough to make copies and prepare lab materials, 100 nights of going to bed with a pit in my stomach - sometimes smaller than others, but always there - thinking about what the kids will do the next day, and 100,000 times telling kids to spit out the gum, sit down, take off the hat, put away the tech deck*, stop talking, stop hitting, start working, get out a pencil… You would think they would get have got the hang of things by now, but they still react like I’m telling them completely new and outrageous information when I say that no, they can’t go to the bathroom right after lunch, just like they haven’t been allowed to go to the bathroom after lunch for the previous 99 days. It gets old.

* For those of you who aren’t middle school teachers, tech decks are the worst thing ever. They’re these stupid little mini-skateboards that the kids all have, and they’re obsessed with trading them, rolling them around their desks, (attempting to) flip them, and just using them to be as annoying as possible. I’ve seen kids who have an entire pencil box packed volumetrically full of tech decks, so as soon as you take one away another one takes its place. I wonder if this is how my middle school teachers felt about pogs.

Community Word is an organization that sends hippies, (excuse me, “teaching artists”), into NYC public schools to teach the kids how to write poems about their feelings. I’m not exactly sure how our school got mixed up with them, but they come every Tuesday to listen to music and free write with each seventh grade class for a period. I haven’t had much to do with them because they never have a class the same period as me, but today was the day of their big poetry slam, or whatever they call it, so all the seventh graders and their teachers dutifully trekked to the auditorium fifth period for the festivities.

First off, they couldn’t figure out how to turn on the microphones, so the kids had to sit and wait for an entire half hour while they got that sorted out - so they were already pretty wound up before the poetry even started. Then, every single kid in the entire seventh grade was supposed to get up and read the poem they’d been working on all year. That’s about 125 kids. Granted, they were supposed to get up in groups of four, or “stanzas,” and read their poems together, but it still took forever. Furthermore, I don’t know why those poems took all year to write, because I’m pretty sure they were Madlibs. Every single one followed the form of, “I look like I’m a [BORING NOUN], but really I’m an [EXCITING NOUN - PREFERABLY A JUNGLE ANIMAL].” So it was kid after kid after kid saying:

• “I look like just a regular girl, but really I’m a tigress!”
• “I look like I’m a Mexican, but really I’m a shooting star.”
• “I look like I’m not good at sports, but really I am good at sports.”
• “I look like I’m just some kid, but really I’m a giraffe!”

That last one may have been an exaggeration, but you get the point. Dijoinnaise, my favorite bad kid, was cracking me up, because he kept calling out things like, “I look like I’m a backpack, but I’m a backpack with STUFF INSIDE!” and “I look like a dumb kid, but really I’m a dumb kid WITH A BIG HEAD!”

Anyways, I can’t really blame the kids for not being able to sit quietly for two hours of “I look like a acne-ridden pre-teen, but really I’m a sparkly magical gazelle.”  As the event progressed, the kids who weren’t on stage became more and more rowdy, until it got so bad that the performance had to be aborted halfway through and regular classes resumed.

I don’t think the teacher artists were pleased.

I feel much better after spending the weekend doing very little, but I have completely lost my voice. It’s very annoying because I sounded fine when I actually felt crappy, and it’s only now that I feel better that I sound pathetic enough to earn sympathy. Anyway, since I literally could not talk above a whisper, I showed a Planet Earth video and had them answer questions on it. I might as well have called for a substitute, there probably would have been an equivalent amount of learning. I don’t understand why they always beg me to show movies, if all they want to do is talk and throw paper balls during them.

The highlight of the day was going to see Coraline after work with Ms. L, and instead getting sidetracked into a free screening of Confessions of a Shopaholic. Not that it was good movie, but we got to see it for free and now we get to see Coraline tomorrow. I like having things to look forward to when I’m surrounded by screaming pre-adolescents.
The other highlight of the day was the crazy homeless man on the Subway ride home from the movies, who, in a rant that was addressed to “ALL YOU WHITE PEOPLE, THERE ARE TOO MANY OF YOU”, told us all to “TAKE GEORGE BUSH AND SHOVE HIM UP YOUR ASS.”