Janelle's Story

(Caution - This is a long post, but only because it's a story worth telling)

There are several tangible things that determine success or failure in the classroom:

Is the pencil sharpener working?
Is the class clown in rare form ?
Did you sleep last night? .....

There are also several intangible things that make an even greater difference. 
One noteworthy example of this is student motivation.  If your students don't care to learn, then there isn't a whole lot you can do to make them.

Fortunately, I had Janelle* in my summer school class. 

The first day, I thought Janelle was going to be a handful. She had a blank gaze on her face with a slight air of disinterest.  When I gave the diagnostic test, she just continued to stare straight ahead.  After the allotted hour and a half, she had completed 10 out of 33 problems.  In that moment, I had about zero idea how I was going to reach her.

The second day was just as much of a surprise as the first.  Midway through my first math lesson, Janelle, still with a look of mild detachment, handed me a folded note with "Mr. S" neatly printed at the top.  Inside, all the note said was:
"Could you help me with math?  I don't get it."  -Janelle
Here was this girl that I thought I would never reach asking me to help her with math (as you can imagine this is a teacher's dream for a student to realize they need your help :)

Janelle had reasons to want to succeed in my summer school class.  Her twin sister was already a grade ahead of her, and if she didn't pass, Janelle would fall two grades behind her.  It was already obvious that she was one of the oldest sixth graders in the class.  At 5'8", Janelle nearly looked me in the eye when I would greet her each morning.  Whatever the reason, Janelle wanted it, and that made two of us.

Janelle and I worked together every spare moment we had.  She regularly did extra homework, bringing it back to me so I could check it during breakfast.  Her older sister wanted her to succeed so much that often she would check Amanda's papers at home.  Janelle's father was completely on board as well, seeing a motivation and confidence in Janelle that was new to her approach to math.  And the results started coming.  Janelle would regularly get 100% on my daily worksheets, and her long division and multiplication improved every day.  When it came time for our final assessment, Janelle completed a practice test at home and got 30 out of 33 correct!  She was so ready.

For anyone who is looking for an uplifting Teach For America success story, this is the wrong place.  Despite all of her improvement, on the final test day Janelle broke my heart.  The final test got off to a good start; Janelle was working diligently and seemed to be confident.  After about half an hour though, her eyes started wandering and she began to stare off into space, behavior eerily similar to the way she acted during the original diagnostic test.  I stopped at her desk to emphasize that it was important that she concentrate, but when she looked up at me, her eyes were beginning to tear up.  "It's too hard, Mr. Siscoe." This was the first time Janelle had shown even a hint of emotion.  My body immediately tensed up.  Here was a girl that I had worked side-by-side with the entire summer, but right now I couldn't be there for her.  She had to complete the test on her own. 

As it turned out, Janelle suffered from a paralyzing test anxiety.  Even though she was capable of solving the different problem types, the stress of the test environment (one that had meant repeated failure for her in the past) made it difficult to do what had begun to come naturally on her homework.  Janelle completed 26 of 33 questions and got a 45%, 15% lower than what she needed to pass the summer school class.

I thought we had everything we needed to succeed.  The tangible things were there:
-completed homework
-a strong support system
-a teacher willing to work hard enough to overcome his weaknesses
An important intangible was there as well:
-Janelle's motivation.

All of that only to be upended by another intangible.




*All student names have been changed

Four Weeks or Four Years?

When I was still back at Olivet in the spring, I had a friend who was an education major approach me about my acceptance into TFA.  I told them about the patchwork introduction I was getting into teaching, complete with cram session for certification tests, Skype hiring interviews with administrators, and teaching four weeks of summer school.  As they were starting to understand the whole process, they pressed me with a question:

“So let me get this straight.  I’ve been going to school for four years to get into education and I don’t have a job yet, but you have majored in something completely different and you already have a teaching job?”

When I heard it phrased like that, it all did sound a little bit ridiculous.  The fact that I am not even marginally qualified has really been an ever-present reality of this whole process.

TFA’s remedy for that of course is summer institute.  Here’s a small look into my daily schedule:

5am – Wakeup , shower, and breakfast (Didn’t finish your lesson plan last night? Looks like breakfast and a shower might not be an option)

6– Get on the bus to Lyon Elementary

7 – Arrive at Lyon.  Supervise students arriving for breakfast

8-9:30- Curriculum session and lesson plan work time

9:40-10:45 – Tutoring hour with my Entering 6^th graders

10:45-11:15 - Lunch

11:15 – 12:00 - Teach Lesson for the day

12:00-12:45 – Grade papers, plan tutoring sessions for the following day

12:45-1 – Summer school dismissal

1:15 – 4:30 Various curriculum and training sessions

4:30 – Get on the bus back to Delta State

6 – Dinner

Evenings include everything from additional evening session to planning advance rough draft lesson plans to finalizing the next day’s lesson plan and gathering materials.  Most people get done with this stuff around midnight.

Repeat.

 (Summer School Teaching Team.  We're the Lyon Bobcats.  Nothing like a little cat confusion)

Yes.  It is a whirlwind.  Yes.  We are always tired.  The coffee machine in the faculty room has become our new favorite hangout.  But hey, I figure, “What’s worse?  Four weeks, or four years?”