"You can't save them all"

If we've just met, I'm a teacher. I'm many other things, but in most (if not all) of those things, I'm also a teacher.

Yesterday I was venting to one of my colleagues about a specific high schooler in my care, and how I couldn't figure out how to motivate this kid to turn stuff in and pass my class. There was a block there, and I needed to break it, and I couldn't figure out how.

"Story," said my colleague, "You can't save them all. You're young, but you'll learn. You can't save them all."

That's a lesson I don't ever want to learn.

Maybe, in truth, I know that I can't save them all, but that doesn't mean I'm willing to give up on this one, or on any of them. Maybe I can see that in the grand scheme of things, some of them will make the wrong choices and I can't stop them, but that doesn't mean I'm willing to accept that a child at the ripe old age of 15 is just lost and beyond my help. And even if this person is going to continue to make the wrong choices, shouldn't he see me trying to save him? Shouldn't he see that I care enough to try, that someone does? Because even if I don't see it now, mightn't that make a difference at some point down the line?

The truth is, in teaching as in many other things I'm sure, that we often don't get to see who we saved. The ones that we thought hung on our every word are sometimes the ones who slip away while the ones who appear not to care can come back a year later gushy and teary with thanks. Even ten years after I graduated high school, I still look back gratefully at things my teachers gave me, and it's not the things I thought I'd look back on. I wonder if they know that. I hope they do.

So, maybe you can't save them all. But you need to try to save them all. Otherwise, what's the point?

Test Prep on the Cheap

I took a really ugly and painful test for teacher certification in my state this Saturday. I had forgotten about the test until about a month before, and then put off studying until about a week before. I didn't have any books, certainly didn't have time to take a prep class, and just needed to get a basic idea of what was going to be on the test and what my approach should be. My dirty little secret is that I teach and tutor test prep classes for a major company but have never used more than my Internet connection and free materials to study for any test I've taken (including the SAT, GRE, Praxis I and II, and various state tests).

The basic list of things I think it's important to know about a test before taking it includes:
1. The content range of the test
2. The structure, format, and length of the test
3. The position and any biases of the test makers
4. The way in which the test is scored
5. The approximate difficulty of the questions

With that in mind, here's how I prepped for the test I just took.

1. I started with the webpage belonging to the company giving my test (in this case, as in most, ETS). Generally, they will provide some of the most basic information, such as how many questions and how long. This gives you a starting point for generating a strategy.
2. I took the practice questions given on ETS's site. This gave me a general idea of what questions looked like and how hard they were.
3. I checked my answers to ETS's test. I used that, and the bibliography offered, to get an idea of what they were looking for. (For example, I saw Nancie Atwell in the list of suggested readings, so I know that they prefer a writing workshop constructivist approach to writing. Good news for me.)
4. I made notes on areas of weakness or confusion and kept that list on a notepad next to my desk.
5. I searched for the name of my test on google. Several sites came up, mostly belonging to colleges, with general tips for test day. A few offered syllabi of the covered material. I made notes on topics I didn't know on my notepad.
6. I went to Amazon and searched for my test type. My Internet research had given me the names of a few books and I started with those. I used the search within this book feature and read as much as I could until Amazon cut me off.
7. I used my notes on topics of weakness to do further Internet reading into genres, time periods, and theories I needed to review.
8. I doublechecked my admission ticket, sharpened some pencils, and went to bed.

That's it, that's all I did. Now, if I'd been a little more dedicated, I could have spent some time in the library, but for an hour a day for 5 days, this provided a pretty good background.

When I took the GRE, I spent more time but not any more money. Fortunately for you if this is what you're doing, there are a lot more online materials available. Do similar research, and you will find interactive vocab flashcards, math reviews, and about 10 full length practice tests you can take.

I'd be out of a part time job if I talked everyone out of test prep classes, but unless you have trouble self-motivating or have a serious weakness in a major area covered by the test, you can do most of your test prep without the major expense.

10 tough things about being a teacher

This is a riff off of and a gentle parody of the post 10 Reasons it doesn’t pay to be the computer guy from my very old friend Shaun at Life Reboot.

10. “Your” accomplishments are always really someone else’s.
You’re only doing your job when you’re helping other people do better. If they don’t do well, you’re letting them down and not doing your job. If they doll, well gee, aren’t those kids just brilliant?

9. You always have to work more hours than they say you do.

You may be told that you need to stay at school until at least 3:30, but you will definitely be staying until 5 some days. You will then be coming back at 7 to chaperone a dance, and coming home from the dance at 11 to grade thirty papers and plan your lessons for the next week.

8. If you need technology, it will undoubtedly be broken.

I have never managed to work in a school that could keep a copy machine working, let alone computers, a network, or a projector. You will however be constantly reminded of the necessity of using a variety of technology to support student learning.
7. Guilt reigns.

The moment you decide that you will not work one more uncontracted and unpaid minute, it will immediately be proposed to you by a child, parent, or supervisor that if you were to do this one little thing it will change a child’s life forever. If you don’t, well (sniff, sniff), I guess he or she will find a way to get by.

6. You are always a teacher

You’re a teacher when you’re at the grocery store, when you’re at the movies. Children will find this an appropriate time to converse, play, or torture. Parents will think it completely acceptable to begin a dialogue about your grading system.

5. You are not a person.

You’re expected to know everything. You’re not allowed to have a bad day. You’re not allowed to be stressed or take it easy. You’re hardly allowed to call in sick, and if you do you better spend at least two days of extra work planning for and recovering from it.

4. Everyone thinks they can do your job.

Everyone you meet has had teachers and since it never looked that hard, everyone thinks they could do your job. They will never actually say that but will make it abundantly clear several times per conversation.

3. You are completely responsible for the lives of twenty human beings for about 7 hours a day.

They are not, however, your children. When they leave your sight, you have very little control over what happens to them, what they do, or who they become.

2. The money. . . well. . enough said.

1. Well, umm. . . .

… There isn’t one. The truth is, I love teaching and I wouldn’t stop. The other day I had a kid tell me that the reason he stopped plagiarizing is that I taught him how to write. The last time I got guilted into volunteering something, I cheered louder than any of my kids when we found out that they won. I can call an audible and talk my way out of a technology meltdown in about 5 seconds and you know what else?

I am always a teacher.

Is it easy? No. Do I sometimes feel overworked and underappreciated? Oh yeah. Sometimes in the morning I curl up on the couch and cry into my coffee because I just don’t want to go to school. But then sometimes at the end of the school year, I get a note from a kid that says “Words cannot describe how much you’ve done for me. Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

And then I can’t wait to start again.


More on teaching:
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Graduation Day
You can't save them all
Why I teach