When the second semester begins, it is just understood that students will get shuffled around. Changes in schedules occur for a number of reasons: new semester classes, joining an extracurricular, switching to a different athletic period, needing to earn a half credit here or there, get a refresher on a state tested class, etc.
It just is what it is.
And no one knows how it works or the messy system that generates students' new futures, but we know it is going to happen every January. How do you find out? The student shows up at your door and suddenly it is the first day of school all over again for the both of you; however, there is one very different thing, the environment of your class.
By January, a classroom should be literally humming. Don't confuse humming with perfection because a true classroom community is continuously growing which means there will always be growing pains. Also, humming is not synonymous with silence; humming is a constant warmth of energy working off one another. If this is the case, your suddenly "new" student will benefit tremendously from walking into the productive inviting space and learn in the same way one learns a language faster when immersed in the culture.
***
This is the story of one "new" student, Jay, and the afternoon he finally introduced himself.
Don't get it twisted, we actually knew each other before he got switched into my class. He was diagonally across the hall from me in my bestie's classroom. As one of those teachers who always stands at the door fist-bumping every student, I naturally end up meeting and greeting students who are not on my roster but are out in the hallway - just a bonus.
Jay was a bonus student.
It has not been a super smooth transition for us. See, if you only ever interact with me in the hall you're strictly interacting with the friendly and fun Hallway Mrs. Woodson. And if you think that's who I am all the time - including instructional time - then you are poorly mistaken. I stay friendly and fun, as well as, focused, passionate, excited, and intense about learning.
Jay was mistaken.
After a reading conference over his most recent read, All American Boys by Jason Reynolds and Brendan Kiely, he accepted my book suggestion of Nic Stone's Dear Martin, and he even took notes for the first couple days and read during independent choice reading time. Unfortunately, he got distracted some, our communication wires got crossed, I was out of town for a conference, he was out class some, and he had not quite found his own space in the community yet.
Jay was unsure.
I announced as a friendly reminder that I am always available after school for tutoring. I announced it loudly since we are nearing the final deadline of our poetry summative. It was in passing; I had to control my enthusiasm when Jay commented, "I'll be here today Miss." "Yeah, okay Jay. I'll be here," I responded while wrapping up the actual conversation he had interjected in to announce his attendance to tutoring.
Jay was ready.
A team is defined as persons having one another's back. Today, that meant taking a colleague's seventh period class in with my own. Which really meant having more scholars to share my love of poetry with and assist in their attempt to imitate a poet; plus, there are two bonus students in that class, Jay's previous class period. Fifteen ish minutes before the end of 7th, Jay knocks on my door his face filling the tiny window. I pause my conferencing and open the door with a smile. "I have to go to football right after school for something, but then I'll be here," he announces. "Sounds good Jay," I respond nodding.
Jay was serious.
Tutorials are technically 2:30-3:15. My room hosts various types after school from students who want feedback to the students who just want the couch, the teacher who needs a sounding board to the teacher who has a quick curriculum question. It's almost never empty. Today was quiet, one student who recently "decided to get [her] life together" and has now attended tutorials three out of the last four days (she is slaying her analysis of Rupi Kaur's work) and one teacher doing a drive-by hello.
Jay is here.
He sits down, opens his laptop, and calls his girlfriend while my conversation with the teacher concludes and I go to answer one question that is more about her repeating her idea to me and not a real question. I settle into the desk next to Jay; he's still on the phone. "Are we gonna do this?" I ask gesturing to talking on the phone "...or are we going to do this?" I finish gesturing to his half-annotated copies of John Ashbery's poems. He smirks, hangs up, plugs the phone into the wall, and returns. We begin trying to discuss Ashbery's "Crazy Weather" when the other student leaves, I read the poem aloud, and straight up ask why Jay chose this piece. "I dunno," he admits shrugging. "We are trying a different poet!" I declare noting that if you cannot give me a reason why we are digging into this specific poet's work, we need to find someone who gives us a why. He nods.
Jay is curious.
I walk to the other side of the room to the stack of poem copies. I pick up one poem, turn toward Jay, and say, "I think you will like this poem, but at the same time I'm not sure if it's what you want to connect with." He cocks his head. "What's it called?" I announce the title, "alternate names for black boys." "What you trying to say Miss?" he demands. "I'm saying that we all have outward characteristics that people see us through like race, and sometimes people want to be identified and read about experiences in correlation to their race, but other times people don't want that to be the lens others see them through." Short pause. "Okay Miss, I get it. Yeah that sounds cool."
Jay is seen.
First, I offer to read the poem to him. "I can read Miss," he states. "Yes, I'm aware, but sometimes it's nice to be the one listening instead of reading-especially with poetry," I explain. "Yeah - okay." I read; he listens. Together, we dig through the structural design of the poem using John Ashbery's structure to compare/contrast. Jay observes two things about his new poem: each line is numbered making it appear like a list and most lines are not complete sentences. I record his ideas on the sheet: 'numbered lines & fragments'. Jay already found the shift in the poem, boxed words that convey the two different moods in the lines pre and post shift, and analyzed it all to distinguish a hopeful tone.
Jay is focused.
"So, how does the structural element create the hopeful tone?" I pose. He scans the sheet. "Wait - is fragment like bullets?" he mumbles. "Say what?" I ask. "Never mind...umm..." he dismisses. "No, no...what do you mean bullets? Like bullet fragments?" I ask curiously. "Yeah... like what gets left in you if you get shot," he explains. My mind is doing flips regarding his connection excited that he is digging deeply. I encourage that idea and record it with our other notes; then I explain how a complete sentence has a noun + verb and write out 'James laughs.' He nods while saying, "oh really?" Next I jot down 'laughing at Mrs. Woodson'. "Who or what is the subject?" He looks, and states "There isn't one." I nod and jot the word 'fragment' down explaining that we call an incomplete thought a fragment; therefore, when he noted the structure of incomplete thoughts I labeled it 'fragments'.
Jay is confident.
The two of us further discuss his ideas extending his connotative meaning of the term 'fragments' and how that visual depiction conveys a hopeful tone. It's a big step. Because more than analysis, we are discussing his identity through the lens he has selected. In between the paragraph structure notes he shares about his family. As I send him a digital template, I express my love of poetry. And back and forth we go. By four o'clock it's time for me to get home to let the puppies outside, Jay has completed his entire first analysis paragraph and agreed to be a more vocal participant in community during class.
Jay is settling.
***
I am an educator who is working to better equip my students' voice. In order to be their champion, it is my responsibility to make space for authentic input from a student regarding the identity they would like for their lens. Some teachers want to apply the colorblind theory that ignores culture altogether. Don't. It's dangerous and harmful. Other teachers want to create a "diverse" book list cramming culture into one narrative. Don't. It's dangerous and harmful; it's also a cop-out. Step forward and recognize the unconscious and conscious bias we all carry, check it at the door, and inquire about your students' lenses.
Commenti