In our district, the stimulus money is not going to cover the budget shortfalls. We are having a tax increase, and the high school is still about $500,000 short. This means all kinds of cool things are getting cut: yearbook, the school plays, after school clubs, AP classes, intramural sports. That, and they’re instituting minimum class sizes, which means that jobs will be eliminated. The science teacher on my team has the lowest seniority in his subject area (which is district-wide, not school-wide) and is on tenterhooks about retaining his job next year, even though the science position on our team is not at risk.
I don’t want to end on a crappy note, so I will add this little story. A parent of a student contacted me recently to tell me that her son has loved our class reading of Twelfth Night so much that he asked his mother (a Cornell lit prof) to read another Shakespeare comedy with him at home. This boy has done B level work all year, and English isn’t his favorite subject or anything, but she said he has really clicked with Shakespeare. He did a beautiful poster about Midsummer Night’s Dream, the play he read at home, and brought it in. That kind of thing makes me feel great, since it’s so easy for kids to become alienated by literature and think it’s boring, confusing, and a chore. I taught that kid something.
ETA: The cafeteria is quite loud. I avoid it at all costs. My classroom? Not so loud, because I don’t allow it. You have control over the noise level in your little fiefdom.
Even before the stimulus package, Title One has always been problematic, because it’s based on how much a particular state spends on education. So a school that serves an impoverished community in one state might get significantly less than a school in similar circumstances in another state, because the states fund their schools differently.
My division of LAUSD already gets about 20% of its budget from the feds, but we have to beg for it every year (writing grant proposals). The teachers that are going to be laid off are those who have been with the district less than two years.
I think it really depends on your personality and teacher persona. My students and I like each other and they respect me, so I don’t have much trouble getting them to quiet down when asked. If I must, I use my patented Stentorian Teacher Voice. They know I don’t play, so they comply. I also have a classroom set up where the seats are two concentric semi-circles, which makes it harder for kids to talk or fool around unnoticed. They have assigned seats, which I have arranged to keep kids away from the people they most want to chat with. When kids ask you if they can move their seat, you know your seating chart is working. (This is not to say I don’t have to tweak it, or won’t move a kid’s seat if he’s really not getting along with his neighbor, but mostly, it works.)
The only times I notice that students in other classes aren’t quiet is when there is a substitute. That leads me to think that classroom decorum and quiet are the result of the teacher’s will to have it happen, and the kids won’t do it for just anyone. It would not be possible to read Shakespeare or have a civil, productive class discussion if anyone other than the designated party is talking, so I have to enforce respectful discourse. They know it’s important, and I will use The Voice or move seats if I have to. I almost never have to do more than that to get quiet.
My class sizes range from a low of 14 to a high of 24. This disparity occurs partly because there is tracking in math. My smallest class is so because the math class that runs concurrent with it is the lowest level math, which is the largest. This means all the other teachers on our team have smaller 4th period classes, and the students in those classes tend to be academically higher achievers than the ones who have math 4th period. Additionally, all my special education students are in my 6th period class, because that’s the only class I co-teach with the special ed teacher and it’s on their IEPs that they have a special ed push-in. This is de facto tracking, of course, and it’s not my favorite way to educate kids, but I have no control over it.
Hayle no, not me! But I hope rivulus will step in if this is too much of a hijack. I’m asking because when I have loved a job, it’s partly been because I had access to tools to handle the unlovable parts.
Rubystreak (and other teachers here!), did you already have your Stentorian Teacher Voice handy when you started teaching, or did you have to learn it? Is it organic or natural to you, or did you emulate someone? What is your teacher persona like?
How do they know? What do you do if they don’t comply? Do they push this early in the year, or does your reputation precede you, or is it only the really difficult kids who would test the boundaries in the first place?
Also, what economic strata is most of your student base from? (With class sizes as you describe, I’d guess there’s at least solid middle-class money in your district.) Have you taught in dissimilar places? Do you work near where you live? (We have neighbors who teach and administer public school, but they have long commutes even though there are many schools nearby; I wonder if that’s normal these days.) Was it difficult to find a job close to home?
I’m glad to see that my post in that thread has gotten some people thinking positively about teaching. There’s a lot that I love about my job, but I think the biggest thing is that the students are always bursting with energy. Whenever I’m feeling down in the evening, something always happens the following morning to cheer me up. When I see them, even if it’s just in the hallway for a few minutes, I’m instantly reminded of why I chose to be a teacher. I’m fortunate enough to teach at a private day school, which includes all grades from kindergarten through high school. Hence I get to see adorably cute youngsters as well as teenagers each day.
(While I’m on the topic, I should mention that teaching at a private school helps me avoid some of the biggest headaches from public schools. There is no high-stakes testing and on danger of being arbitrarily thrown out of work due to low scores. There’s also a lot less bureaucracy in all areas of the job, more freedom to design my own curriculum, and the opportunity to play a role in administrative decisions.)
Another thing I love is that being around children helps me keep in mind that I once was a child myself. Watching the wide-eyed wonder as the kids discover new things often leads me to reminisce about my own learning experiences. Being surrounded by children helps me to be more optimistic about the future and to be aware of how much people change in the course of their lifetime.
It varies. Some days I come home and collapse into bed right away, but that’s related to a medication that I’m taking as well as to my job. Anyone who becomes a teacher needs to be ready to work an eight-hour day without any rest in the middle, then put in some more hours at home in the evening. The typical schedule for a high-school teacher would be to teach five periods during a school day with seven or eight periods, thus having two or three planning periods throughout the day. However, that schedule can be deceptive, since teachers are frequently recruited for various duties during their planning periods. (Covering a class for another teacher, attending a meeting, assisting a visitor, or tutoring a student who needs extra help.)
I would estimate that I put in two hours a night on grade during the week, though it obviously varies from day to day. Lesson planning doesn’t take very much time after the first year, since you can usually use the same lesson plans over and over.
I subbed for a year after graduating from college, and it really helped me develop The Teacher Voice and The LOOK. After 20 years teaching, I can say ‘amen’ to all of the above, and my classes are what got me through chemo. I worked every single day except the day I had to take the chemo IV, and there were days that I was sweating and clinging to my desk, thinking I was going to croak from the side effects, but knowing that the bell was going to ring in 50 minutes and a new group of kids was coming in to do something new kept my mind moving on to new things. I love it when I run into a former student somewhere and they remember something silly we did as a Tremendous Event.
The first three or four years, it felt like I was grading ALL THE TIME. All day on Saturdays. Hour or more before school every day. All through my planning period. And I was still behind all the time. Now, not so much–I’ve gotten ten thousand times more efficient–I know how to set things up so that they are quick to grade, I read more quickly than I used to, I know when precision matters and when it’s not worth the effort, and, most of all, it’s all become so second nature that I can grade 5 papers in between every class. At this point, though I still work a 6-4 day most days, I almost never grade outside that time frame.
As far as lesson planning goes, I love that part of the job, so I have no idea how much time it takes–I put way more time into it than it probably needs. However, I don’t want to sugar-coat it too much–I’d count on a couple hours a day, on average outside of school for the first year or two to cover grading and planning together.
[QUOTE=emmaliminal;11044254How loud are high-school kids in class these days? Most of my teaching experience has been with highly-motivated students, not in public school classrooms.
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You just about have to go visit some classrooms to get an answer to this–it’s like asking how spicy the food is–everyone’s frame of reference is different. I think my class is pretty quiet most of the time, but I’ve never had a migraine.
You figure this out. It’s different for everyone. But again, go visit classes.
Absolutely dead on my feet for the first 8 weeks or so. I usually feel like I’ve been hit with a stick all day. Then I get used to it again.
I like the power and control, and also the idea that I can ruin people’s lives with a stroke of a pen. Also, it’s very satisfying on an intellectual level.
I started my career as a fourth grade and middle school in inner-city Houston. I did it with a well-known teaching program for two years. I absolutely hated the incompetents in my administration - it was clear where the biggest problems in the school were - but I loved the kids. I also wanted to quit every day for about the first three months (but I think the horrible administration made this 10x worse). Once I figured out how to manage my classroom and get through a lesson cycle I really started to love it.
I now teach at a large state uni, and my students are in grad school. I really like teaching this group. My students are very deferential - perhaps too much so, but it’s nice to be afforded a little too much respect than too little! I have fun and my students always tell me that I’m enthusiastic and passionate about my teaching (which I think comes from being a teacher - if you don’t think fractions are the coolest thing ever, your students sure as hell won’t give it the time of day).
Grading sucked then, and it’s a little better now, but still a huge drain on my time. I pride myself on giving lots of feedback to students. Their egos are developed so I can go to town, and I know a lot of my colleagues don’t provide anywhere near as much. I know that I’m helping them become better writers and researchers.
Having said all of that, and even with the research and service that goes along with my job: Teaching was the toughest, most tiring job I ever had. But it was my life completely for two years, and I didn’t realize how hard I worked until Friday at 4 pm, when I would get home, put my milk crate full of junk down on the floor, and promptly pass out until 10 pm (usually when someone would call me and ask why I didn’t show at the bar/club/their house).
I love that I had a cohort to share the experience with as well. It wasn’t anywhere near as isolating as it might have been, and everyone I knew was doing the same thing. So I couldn’t whinge about how hard the work was, etc.
We need more kick-ass teachers, well-educated, talented folk who give a damn about kids. Go for it!
(This is not to say I don’t have to tweak it, or won’t move a kid’s seat if he’s really not getting along with his neighbor, but mostly, it works.)