20.9.15
Making up baby
Stealing a moment to share a photo of this little cutie. His mom does his 'make-up' every day- some eye kohl and drawn on eyebrows. Imagine adding that to the morning routine! Most days I consider a little eye color to be optional. Surely it is a sign of love, but she also says it has medicinal purposes. She will do this until he is about 5 months old. (I guess the eybrows will continue until he grows in his own to satisfaction. She did admit that part was purely cosmetic......)
16.9.15
A sense of urgency
It sounded kind of good at first....creating a sense of urgency about learning. It was back to school night and the opening presentation had a line about getting kids motivated and excited about what they are learning.
Which I do agree with, of course. Anyone who has tried to hold the attention of a 10 year old can sympathise. A long, boring lesson for students is even worse from the teacher perspective. Everything is more fun when there is excitement and energy and passion.
But the more I thought about the use of this word- urgency- the less I really liked it. I don't want my child to be planning which book he will read next before he has even finished the book he is into now. I don't want him thinking about next, and more, and after that. I want him to savor and cherish and fall in love with the words. I want him to feel bittersweet that the end of the book is coming and even read slower in an attempt to draw out the ending. I hope he will swirl sentences around in his mind and let them breathe there for awhile as he absorbs their meaning. I want him firmly rooted in the here and now of being 10.
I think what our students, our children, need is less of a sense of urgency- less of a need to be constantly on the road to acheiving one milestone or another- and more a sense of presence. A focus on the now.
I see the effects of the idea of urgency in my classroom. Children ask me a question and have moved on to the next idea in their minds before fully processing my answer. They are back in 5 minutes with the same question. I repeat announcements 3 or 4 times and yet, children are still ready to say, "I didn't know." It is the constant sense of motion that prevents them from tuning in to the now. From hearing and seeing and focusing on their reality.
There are all kinds of small exercises to help with this, and we will do many of them this year. Metacognitive activities intended to guide the student into examining his or her thoughts- right now- and slowly creating habits that will lead to change. Mindfulness.
This evening, as the speaker was elaborating on what he meant by "urgency of learning" I was lost in thoughts about my own recent, constant, unfortunately familiar, feeling that I just want to call a time out for a minute so I can catch up on everything. I want the world to stop so I can set all the pieces in order again.
It's a horrible feeling of rushing through every task just to get to the next task- including meals and rest periods and what used to be thoughtful commutes. I would never wish this on anyone, and definitely not the students I teach. I don't want them to be urgent; I'd rather see them composed.
I want them to take time to observe and reflect, to think deeply and use their whole bodies to engage the world around them.
I want them to take time remember their past lessons and connect to new ideas. I want them to create bridges from school to home, from their social lives to their academic lives.
I want them to breathe. I want them to run and jump and scream with delight. When it's time for classroom learning, I want them absolutely bursting with excitement and anticipation....but not with urgency. With confidence and patience and resolve. With determination and perseverance and disciplince But never frantic, never rushed, and never urgent.
It's not a catch phrase that resonates with me. Especially not in these last few weeks when the pace of life feels so wrong and unnatural.
Luckily, this is the canteen-the outdoor cafeteria space being repaired. It's finished now and looks like an entirely peaceful place to enjoy a meal. In fact, it looks perfectly impossible to feel urgent here.
Which I do agree with, of course. Anyone who has tried to hold the attention of a 10 year old can sympathise. A long, boring lesson for students is even worse from the teacher perspective. Everything is more fun when there is excitement and energy and passion.
But the more I thought about the use of this word- urgency- the less I really liked it. I don't want my child to be planning which book he will read next before he has even finished the book he is into now. I don't want him thinking about next, and more, and after that. I want him to savor and cherish and fall in love with the words. I want him to feel bittersweet that the end of the book is coming and even read slower in an attempt to draw out the ending. I hope he will swirl sentences around in his mind and let them breathe there for awhile as he absorbs their meaning. I want him firmly rooted in the here and now of being 10.
I think what our students, our children, need is less of a sense of urgency- less of a need to be constantly on the road to acheiving one milestone or another- and more a sense of presence. A focus on the now.
I see the effects of the idea of urgency in my classroom. Children ask me a question and have moved on to the next idea in their minds before fully processing my answer. They are back in 5 minutes with the same question. I repeat announcements 3 or 4 times and yet, children are still ready to say, "I didn't know." It is the constant sense of motion that prevents them from tuning in to the now. From hearing and seeing and focusing on their reality.
There are all kinds of small exercises to help with this, and we will do many of them this year. Metacognitive activities intended to guide the student into examining his or her thoughts- right now- and slowly creating habits that will lead to change. Mindfulness.
This evening, as the speaker was elaborating on what he meant by "urgency of learning" I was lost in thoughts about my own recent, constant, unfortunately familiar, feeling that I just want to call a time out for a minute so I can catch up on everything. I want the world to stop so I can set all the pieces in order again.
It's a horrible feeling of rushing through every task just to get to the next task- including meals and rest periods and what used to be thoughtful commutes. I would never wish this on anyone, and definitely not the students I teach. I don't want them to be urgent; I'd rather see them composed.
I want them to take time to observe and reflect, to think deeply and use their whole bodies to engage the world around them.
I want them to take time remember their past lessons and connect to new ideas. I want them to create bridges from school to home, from their social lives to their academic lives.
I want them to breathe. I want them to run and jump and scream with delight. When it's time for classroom learning, I want them absolutely bursting with excitement and anticipation....but not with urgency. With confidence and patience and resolve. With determination and perseverance and disciplince But never frantic, never rushed, and never urgent.
It's not a catch phrase that resonates with me. Especially not in these last few weeks when the pace of life feels so wrong and unnatural.
Luckily, this is the canteen-the outdoor cafeteria space being repaired. It's finished now and looks like an entirely peaceful place to enjoy a meal. In fact, it looks perfectly impossible to feel urgent here.
6.9.15
the work monster
I am carving out this little moment in time to write knowing that if I don't another month will pass even more quickly than the last one. I am neck deep in American school and the first few weeks had my head spinning.
The Americans work hard, too hard. Making the change back, even if we were only gone for a year, was a difficult transition for all of us. The boys were exhausted- not just the long school day but the tremendous amounts of homework right from the start. I had the joy of walking into yet another empty classroom- no resources, no materials, no curriculum. Well, there are some Singapore math books. And there was a bit of training on that. But mostly I have been spending every minute writing, designing, aligning. Mbalia suffered too, completely unused to whole days away from her family.
After these first few weeks we are getting acclimated, though I am not sure it is a good thing. I don't want the days and weeks and months to fly by in a blur of work and activity. I hear colleagues- newly arrived colleagues- talking about the pace of things here. They are comparing it to their previous environment in South America, where the afternoon siesta is also big. It sounds like they think it is ridiculous to close a business in the middle of the day and there is even a little bit of outrage tinting the edge of their words.
"But if the whole country is taking a break," I begin cautiously, "then you should just go home and have a big lunch with your family like everyone else." I can't help but see them as foreigners pushing against a perfectly well run system, albeit different than their own. I want to tell them it is ok to slow down and create a richer, more fulfilling life. I believe this now. I am a complete fan of slower paced days and valuing family time. Stop what you are doing and go home for lunch. Sit down, talk to your kids, spend some good quality time checking in with everyone before heading back to work. There should be time to honor family every day, not just on the weekends.
It's easy to say this but, of course, I have buckled under the pressure. I have eaten lunch at my desk, while working, more than half of the time. I work through lunch, I work once school is out and then I come home and start work again. I am hoping to get it under control, but it is clearly an illness. A yucky, life sucking illness. Those crazy Americans.
On the other hand, there are some benefits to being back in the fold. One is a definite sense of community. Because Americans work so hard, they are pretty good at mixing social play in there too. Boundaries are not as clear and rigid.If you're going to be working 24/7 you might as well sprinkle on some friendly mingling just to keep you going. We've already had one back to school welcome at the principal's house and this Friday there was a soccer game -students against faculty- that drew small crowds to the field after school. Kids were running around playing on the sidelines, younger siblings from home came to join the fun and all that was missing was the smoke of a BBQ. There are many more events planned, from the traditional welcome back picnic to other family centered events. If you don't know many people in town, these are a great way to network a bit. And for one of my social shy guys, it is a great way to play with kids without all the formality of a play-date and your-house-or-mine details.
But it does mean mixing work and play. And the part no one really mentions is that at many of these events, attendance is slightly less than voluntary. Presence is expected. You are left to plaster a smile on your face and make small talk with your colleagues. You mingle with parents of your students while your students themselves are weaving between groups of chatting grown-ups. I see the American in all of this in a way I did not just a year ago. It is interesting to view my home culture as such a foreign entity. I am happy to be looking at it with new eyes.
As with all things, there are perks and pesters involved with returning. I am trying ever hard to be true to myself while navigating the rigors of the system. And I hope I will not spend all my good writing solely on curriculum documents (much as I really do love that kind of thing- teacher nerd that I am.) I vow to find a few nuggets of humor or interest or plain old observation to post here weekly.
Here's a picture of a building I have been feeling a bit of kinship with lately- it appears indestructable- made of concrete, but is falling down like a house made of flimsy playing cards and no one is even trying to raze it- or fix it- they are just letting it stand, neither up nor down. While I can't really imagine how it came to be in this state, I find it oddly beautiful, a sculptural piece of art.
The Americans work hard, too hard. Making the change back, even if we were only gone for a year, was a difficult transition for all of us. The boys were exhausted- not just the long school day but the tremendous amounts of homework right from the start. I had the joy of walking into yet another empty classroom- no resources, no materials, no curriculum. Well, there are some Singapore math books. And there was a bit of training on that. But mostly I have been spending every minute writing, designing, aligning. Mbalia suffered too, completely unused to whole days away from her family.
After these first few weeks we are getting acclimated, though I am not sure it is a good thing. I don't want the days and weeks and months to fly by in a blur of work and activity. I hear colleagues- newly arrived colleagues- talking about the pace of things here. They are comparing it to their previous environment in South America, where the afternoon siesta is also big. It sounds like they think it is ridiculous to close a business in the middle of the day and there is even a little bit of outrage tinting the edge of their words.
"But if the whole country is taking a break," I begin cautiously, "then you should just go home and have a big lunch with your family like everyone else." I can't help but see them as foreigners pushing against a perfectly well run system, albeit different than their own. I want to tell them it is ok to slow down and create a richer, more fulfilling life. I believe this now. I am a complete fan of slower paced days and valuing family time. Stop what you are doing and go home for lunch. Sit down, talk to your kids, spend some good quality time checking in with everyone before heading back to work. There should be time to honor family every day, not just on the weekends.
It's easy to say this but, of course, I have buckled under the pressure. I have eaten lunch at my desk, while working, more than half of the time. I work through lunch, I work once school is out and then I come home and start work again. I am hoping to get it under control, but it is clearly an illness. A yucky, life sucking illness. Those crazy Americans.
On the other hand, there are some benefits to being back in the fold. One is a definite sense of community. Because Americans work so hard, they are pretty good at mixing social play in there too. Boundaries are not as clear and rigid.If you're going to be working 24/7 you might as well sprinkle on some friendly mingling just to keep you going. We've already had one back to school welcome at the principal's house and this Friday there was a soccer game -students against faculty- that drew small crowds to the field after school. Kids were running around playing on the sidelines, younger siblings from home came to join the fun and all that was missing was the smoke of a BBQ. There are many more events planned, from the traditional welcome back picnic to other family centered events. If you don't know many people in town, these are a great way to network a bit. And for one of my social shy guys, it is a great way to play with kids without all the formality of a play-date and your-house-or-mine details.
But it does mean mixing work and play. And the part no one really mentions is that at many of these events, attendance is slightly less than voluntary. Presence is expected. You are left to plaster a smile on your face and make small talk with your colleagues. You mingle with parents of your students while your students themselves are weaving between groups of chatting grown-ups. I see the American in all of this in a way I did not just a year ago. It is interesting to view my home culture as such a foreign entity. I am happy to be looking at it with new eyes.
As with all things, there are perks and pesters involved with returning. I am trying ever hard to be true to myself while navigating the rigors of the system. And I hope I will not spend all my good writing solely on curriculum documents (much as I really do love that kind of thing- teacher nerd that I am.) I vow to find a few nuggets of humor or interest or plain old observation to post here weekly.
Here's a picture of a building I have been feeling a bit of kinship with lately- it appears indestructable- made of concrete, but is falling down like a house made of flimsy playing cards and no one is even trying to raze it- or fix it- they are just letting it stand, neither up nor down. While I can't really imagine how it came to be in this state, I find it oddly beautiful, a sculptural piece of art.
 |
| The perspective is slightly off and I am still stuck with only my phone camera but this gem of a building sits on its own lot- half way to glory and half way to despair |
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