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    • A Teacher Tale: The English Teacher Who Hates to Read Aloud

      Posted at 11:31 am by Mrs. Ram Jam, on January 23, 2021

      If I were to open my MyChart app for you, you’d see a scary list of my illnesses:  ulcerative colitis, fibromyalgia, Ménière’s, and IBS–to name a few. And while they sucketh harder than all marathons ever run collectively, most of my chronic issues are hidden beneath my cracked wide-open and bleeding (thanks visible psoriasis), painful to the touch most days (thanks invisible fibromyalgia), and purple-then-blue-then-white-then-red (thanks visible Raynaud’s) epidermis. 

      But if you were to open my classroom door and stay for a while, you’d see another of my afflictions (and I’m not talking about my very visible llama problem). While it doesn’t cause me any physical pain, the emotional distress it inflicts upon me makes me feel embarrassed and like a failure.

      You’d expect this funny, vibrant, spunky, whimsical (if I do say so myself) English teacher to be downright eloquent, a blonde version of John Keating in Dead Poet’s Society, but, y’all–I. Hate. To. Read. Aloud. In. Class. Because. I. Fuck. It. Up—-so hard. 

      https://media.giphy.com/media/vX39PBHlKLVcI/giphy.gif

      Why?

      1. I read ALL the time but–to myself. And while my dad read the funnies out loud to me as a child, I don’t remember other adults consistently reading texts aloud to me. I might be misremembering, because my brain is fickle, but I’m fairly certain that by middle school, we did most of our reading for English class by ourselves. What does this boil down to? I haven’t heard a shit-ton of words that I would recognize in print ever pronounced. So throughout the years, I made up my own pronunciations. Yeah, I used to sit with a dictionary to look up a word’s meaning, but I never bothered with the pronunciation. It’s a whole hell of a lot easier now to stop and have Google’s online dictionary pronounce schadenfreude for you than it was in the 90s because a hardcover Webster’s Dictionary lacked that feature. I’ve blundered through words like caste, propitious, and scythe because I’d never heard them spoken only to have students correct me. That shit’s embarrassing. And it happens all the time. Once I even had a parent call to complain that I didn’t pronounce yeoman correctly while teaching The Canterbury Tales for the first time. Sorry that I’m not fluent in Middle English? How often is that word used in casual conversation? Also, get over yourself. I can’t ever get ahead of myself either because the curriculum is always changing. Next year? I get a brand-new curriculum (woohoo?), meaning new literature and an unexplored minefield of words I’ve never heard spoken.
      2. Y’all. The amount of Greek, Hebrew, Latin, French, and Spanish that is embedded in the texts that we read throws me for a loop as well. This Midwesterner who relocated to the deep Cajun French South only knows how to say bonjour in French. I can read some Greek, from studying abroad, and am even better at reading Russian (thanks college), but pronouncing Greek and Russian words? Nope. I bombed every Russian oral exam. Last year I taught The Odyssey, and I told the students, hey, I’ve never taught this before, there’s a lot of Greek, let’s work through this together. And it took us several rounds to remember how to say Telemachus, Antinous, Aeaea, etc., correctly. We just finished Elie Wiesel’s Nobel Peace Prize Lecture “Hope, Despair, and Memory” last week, and I know I mispronounced every single thing in Hebrew and several allusions–despite looking up how to say them beforehand. It takes time to commit how to say previously unknown words to memory. 
      3. There are just some words I can’t say. Like magnanimity. Despite listening to how to say this word on repeat, I can’t say it. I go all Nemo trying to say anemone and start thinking about magma and then the Magna Carta, and now I’ve exposed you to the rabbit hole that is my brain. Sorry!!!!
      4. Fibromyalgia. Most of the time, my fibro is invisible, but I struggle with cognitive function and brain fog if I’m in a flare, making my fibro finally visible. It’s worse in the morning and at night. What’s it like? Not being able to pronounce words that you know how to say. Slurring your words when you’re reading or talking when you are dead sober. The inability to find the word you want to use, even when it’s staring you dead in the face. Transposing letters in words. Saying one word when you meant to use a different one. Not being able to form a sentence period in the morning when you’re supposed to get students excited about literature and the kids look at you like you’re stupid when language fails you. And now that I’ve written this, I wonder just how much my fibro prevents me from mastering numbers 2-3.
      Photo by Andrea Piacquadio on Pexels.com

      So how does this English teacher who hates to read aloud because she can’t spoken-word well cope? She relies heavily on audio versions of texts, and when she can’t find audio, she explains herself and asks for a little grace. 

      As a teacher, talk about your own struggles, issues, illnesses, etc., to normalize that it’s okay to discuss things that society would rather see swept under the rug. There’s nothing wrong with saying, “Hey, Mrs. Ram is struggling today due to a fibro flare, so please excuse her as she tortures your eardrums while she reads this aloud to you.” 

      And answer their questions if they have any, and move on. Some of them will judge you, no matter what you say (or in my case how you say it), but you’d be surprised how forgiving students (and people in general) can be when you’re honest about your own limitations and invisible battles you might be fighting. 

      Posted in education, fibromyalgia, meniere's disease, teaching, ulcerative colitis, Uncategorized | 0 Comments | Tagged english teacher, fibromyalgia, invisible illness, reading aloud, teachers who curse
    • Defund the Grammar Police

      Posted at 11:13 am by Mrs. Ram Jam, on January 16, 2021

      Pssssssstttttt.

      You. Yes, you. 

      It’s time to hand in your self-bestowed grammar police badge.

      Quit writing snarky posts about other people’s command of Standard English.

      https://media.giphy.com/media/55offP4umeJUAvWwHP/giphy.gif

      This past week, I encountered a Facebook post where the person said that a major percentage of social media users needed remedial English classes.

      Normally I would just keep on scrolling, but I stopped and made a comment because, oh the irony, the post had errors within it. I softened the blow with “Would you hate me forever if I…” and then proceeded to point out that sentences should never start with numerals (and patted myself on the back for not also pointing out that he should be using one space instead of two after a period). He responded with a sentence where nearly every word was used incorrectly and that he would have never guessed that I would have been so offended by numerals. I “haha”-ed his comment, but the original post still left a sour taste in my mouth.

      I saw multiple posts last week decrying, “It’s the Capitol Building–not the capital building facepalm emoji.” 

      And posts about the differences among there, their, and they’re will probably never go out of grammar shaming vogue.

      Because I am the grammar police, like have gotten paid for 15 years to read terrible writing by middle schoolers and high schoolers, let me let you in on a little secret—your weird sense of pride in being better at syntax, capitalization, and spelling than your peers makes me uncomfortable. Does pointing out grammar mistakes make you feel better about yourself? Are you trying to belittle the point the other person is trying to make? Do you recognize that your behavior is more than a little elitist? 

      First of all. It’s social media. Get over it. People don’t capitalize proper nouns and punctuation is optional. Who cares if someone you haven’t seen since high school uses its when they mean to use it’s?

      Autocorrect and predictive texts can ruin comments too. Have a little grace.

      Some people give zero fucks about proofreading.

      I diligently proofread, and errors still make their way onto Facebook. And on my blog–even after several reads, merry-go-rounds of spell checks, etc. I’m my own editor because I’m not paying anybody to do it and trying to solicit your friends to proofread something is akin to asking them for money that they know you’ll never pay back. It’s way easier to point out errors in someone else’s writing than your own. Having this blog has humbled my grammar policing because I know how hard it is to produce an error-free piece of writing. I am thrilled when I go back after a few weeks to revisit a post and realize there are no typos. 

      Some people write how they speak, particularly in informal writing, and there is nothing wrong with the way that ANYBODY speaks. When you are mocking the way a person is writing, you might be mocking how they talk, and now you’re inadvertently casting judgements about spoken language. There is nothing wrong with anybody’s dialect of English. 

      Go pick up any work of fiction. ANY WORK OF FICTION. Run-on sentences and fragments abound. Commas are used whenever the author wants to use the little guy. Hell, I’ve even read books where there are no quotation marks for dialogue. Language rules are meant to be broken. 

      Learning those Standard English rules are freaking hard. And while you might have mastered them, lots of people haven’t. And who knows if Twitter Thomas was even taught them after elementary school.

      Let’s throw it back twenty years. How much writing by your friends were you seeing daily? Maybe something on AIM, but nowhere near the amount you’re consuming now. Twenty years ago, you wouldn’t have been making these judgements about other people’s writing because you wouldn’t have even been exposed to it.

      You know what I look for anymore as an English teacher–meaning. If I sat and marked every knowledge of language and conventions error on every big writing assignment that I gave my students, I WOULD NEVER FINISH GRADING THEM. EVER. I ask myself, do these sentences make sense? Do I understand the point the student is trying to make? I pretty much only point out sentence construction issues because meaning will always be more important than modifiers being misplaced, words being left out, and misspelled words–especially since most writing is timed anymore. Our rubrics don’t even place that much emphasis on grammar anymore because meaning IS more important.

      When’s the last time you took a look at “The Declaration of Independence”? There. Are. Common. Nouns. Capitalized. Throughout. Its. Entirety. Thomas Jefferson himself capitalized words to the beat of his own founding-father’s heart. 

      So ask yourself, do I know what my fourth cousin’s husband meant when he wrote a post about killing the Biggest Buck of his life or are you going to let those capital Bs ruin your day? He’s probably just using them for emphasis. And killing an 18-pointer is freaking badass. I’d be capitalizing the shit out of that post too. And if he spells it dear instead of deer? Take a page out of Elsa’s book and let it doe. (Let it doe! Let it doe!)

      I’ll leave a box out on my sticky-note strewn teacher’s desk. I expect your imaginary grammar police badge to be in it by the end of the day, or I’m going to have to write you up for being MEAN instead of looking for MEANING. Hopefully my student-given sign sitting atop my desk that reads World’s Goodest Teacher makes you pause in humor and not contempt on your way out. 

      https://media.giphy.com/media/dlInogLP4Vgc/giphy.gif

      (But also, if you find any typos in this–HELP A GIRL OUT!) 

      Posted in teaching, writing | 6 Comments | Tagged english teacher, grammar police
    • A Teacher Poem: Going Through the eMotions

      Posted at 10:46 am by Mrs. Ram Jam, on December 19, 2020
      plaster a big smile on your face
      even though it's hidden by your mask
      wish the mask covered up your eyes too
      because you're end of the school year tired but it's only December
      because it's hard to fake enthusiasm with your retinas and your pupils

      remind your in-person pupils, all twelve of them, to keep their space
      don't touch his desk
      or his backpack
      or his breakfast

      pinch your nose and close your eyes while you tell him for the umpteenth time to get his mask over his nose
      lose your mind as he covers his eyeballs with it
      because the sass, the audacity, is too much
      because you're jealous

      begin going through the eMotions

      start your Google Meet
      check you COVID screening spreadsheet
      tell a student that if she doesn't turn her camera on, she will be marked absent
      she doesn't
      choke on your sigh of frustration
      because she never listens
      because you don't know if she's with her mom or her dad
      because she might not even be there
      because you don't know if she has anything to eat today
      be thankful that the resolution sucks so the kids at home don't see the tear leaking out of your left eye
      but the resolution IRL works just fine
      nobody sees anyway because they're teenagers who have screens for faces

      you're overwhelmed by going through the eMotions

      put on a dog and pony show, a three ring circus, an Oscar worthy performance to try to get anybody to talk during the lesson
      but the only thing you can hear is the clack clack clack of the keys

      let them type their exit tickets while you recall pen and paper with nostalgia, the worst emotion of them all

      work on fully digitizing a week's worth of lessons
      turn pink and then red when you remember you can't use anything you've spent hours creating next school year because the curriculum is switching for the second time in two years
      angry pound the keys as you type with a force that could shatter
      your fingernails
      your desk
      the county

      because you're tired of going through the eMotions

      sift through Google Classroom for an assignment that he completed three weeks late that he expects to be graded RIGHT NOW
      and so does his mom
      she's only emailed you five times about it
      you've responded once in return
      the assignment's only half done
      like the school year
      like your sanity
      like your self-esteem

      ignore the other late work emails

      rest your forehead on your desk
      stare at your lap and breathe, breathe, breathe deep
      look up to see if anyone witnessed your saga, your mental break down, your calamity
      but they're teenagers who have screens for faces and Ray-Bradbury-is-rolling-over-in-his-grave
      AirPods
      because they're only concerned about their own emotions, not yours

      and you're marrow-deep tired of going through the eMotions

      so

      you hand them a book--tactile, paper, cover, spine, pages to turn, black ink
      and they stare at it like their mom put Brussels sprouts on their plate
      when you've actually given them chocolate cake

      because you're tired of eMotions

      you smile, a real one this time, that lights up your bloodshot eyes
      because books
      because the bell rang
      because it's finally break
      and you've got two weeks off from going through the motions

      try to turn off your inner monologue as you power down your Dell
      but you know that you'll spend your entire break
      going through your emotions
      Posted in education, poems, poetry, teaching | 0 Comments | Tagged poems, poems about teaching, poetry
    • Mrs. Ram’s Holiday Gift Guide for Teachers

      Posted at 10:41 am by Mrs. Ram Jam, on December 12, 2020

      Tired of giving gift cards, coffee mugs, and home-baked goodies to your children’s teachers every year for Christmas? 

      Have you put off shopping for teacher gifts because you lack good ideas?

      Look no further! I’ve got some great teacher gift ideas for you.

      Plants. I squealed in delight when the school librarian dropped off this perfect little succulent in my room this week.

      Once, I received a begonia hanging basket and about died on the spot. If your child showed up with a tiny poinsettia for me, I would explode with Christmas joy. Seriously, consider giving plants this Christmas. They’re inexpensive and unexpected. 

      A lunch-sized Crock-Pot. If you’re willing to spend a little more on a Christmas gift, this is perfect for teachers. I purchased one for myself, and it has been life-changing. Some schools don’t allow teachers to have their own microwaves in their rooms, and right now using a communal microwave grosses me out. With COVID, lots of teachers have to monitor students during lunch and can barely find the time to eat, let alone heat up their lunch. I plug in my baby Crock-Pot at the end of third block, and my chicken and veggie soup or pot roast is the perfect temperature by the end of fourth block. Every teacher I know who has one can’t live without theirs. 

      Cool handmade shit you or your friends make.  ‘Tis the season to promote yourself! Last year, I received a gorgeous pottery ornament and bowl made by a student’s mother. I’ve gotten the most delicious salsa that a student’s mother sells, and once I tasted it, I turned around and bought some to give to my friends for Christmas. And while I’m not crafty, I have friends who are. One of my besties from high school makes the MOST gorgeous and fantastic artisan soaps, so guess what Little Thing’s teachers are getting this year?

      (Here’s a link to her website:  Persifer Soap Company.) (Image credit.)

      I’m sure you have friends who make earrings, bath bombs, hot chocolate bombs, etc. Support your friends, and give the cool shit they make to your kids’ teachers. 

      Cool handmade shit your kids make. I have received gifts that have made me cry and are framed and precious and I will cherish them forever and ever. (Rambly incoherent sentence intended because I’m incoherent just thinking about them.) I had a student two years ago paint me this. I was a mess for the rest of the day.

      I had a student draw this for me one year. (Context:  Mrs. Ram, that’s me, loves Goose, my husband’s nickname, with Little Thing watching the two of us. I die now, okay?)

      Your kids are talented. I love to get their works of art.

      Gifts that relate to the teacher’s classroom theme. More than likely, your kids’ teachers’ classrooms are decorated with a theme. Mine’s decorated in llamas, so anything llama related is welcome! Llama sticky notes? Yes, please! Llama pencils? Sure! Llama stuffed animals, hand towels, or journals? Absolutely! Ask your kids how their teachers’ classrooms are decorated and go from there. 

      Gift cards to local businesses. Okay, I know I started this post by saying Tired of giving gift cards…but but but. Think outside the box with this one. Don’t just go with gift cards for Amazon, Walmart, Target, or Starbucks. Think local, especially with small businesses being hit hard this year. Give the gift of a manicure or pedicure! Give the gift of your favorite Mexican restaurant! Give the gift of your favorite florist or boutique!

      Photo by Daria Shevtsova on Pexels.com

      But in all honesty, teachers enjoy all the gifts they receive. They will love every coffee mug and Starbucks gift card they receive. 

      It’s just nice to be recognized and appreciated, especially during such a tumultuous school year. 

      Posted in education, teaching, Uncategorized | 3 Comments | Tagged english teacher, gifts for teachers, middle school teacher, teacher gifts, teaching
    • What I Miss

      Posted at 7:56 am by Mrs. Ram Jam, on November 21, 2020

      I’m rather wistful this morning. Here are two things that I’ve been missing HARD because of the pandemic:

      1. Wearing fancy earrings. I have a whole drawer full of golden hoops, tortoise shell danglies, leather teardrops, and Kendra Scott knockoffs that are slowly going out of style. Instead, I’m donning studs, BORING, because I am fearful of losing an earlobe when tearing my mask off my face after class ends. Have you ever ripped a piercing wide open? I have— between freshman and sophomore year of college waiting tables at my cousin’s restaurant. I bussed a table using a big Rubbermaid container and brought it back to the dishwashing area. As I was setting it down, its lip got caught on my belly button ring and ripped that senior-year-in-high-school-spring-break-bad-decision right out. I screamed. It hurt like hell. For years the top of my bellybutton looked like it had floppy devil horns hanging upside down from it. I don’t want my ears to suffer the same fate. Occasionally I’ll sport my fancy earrings anyway when I want to live on the wild side or simply forget the dangers of fancy earring wearing. The only upside to wearing them is if you wear hoops. Then at least when you take your mask off, the hoopies catch the elastic and your mask can hang like a hammock from them if you don’t feel like putting your mask on your desk. 
      2. Name brand hand sanitizer. All I want for Christmas is some Germ-X or Purell. That cheap shit smells like tequila, and by nine a.m., WHILE I’M TEACHING CHILDREN, all I can think about is a giant top-shelf margarita. I’ve had to stop myself mid lesson from sniffing it because I’m all nostalgic for bygone Friday afternoon happy hours with my teacher friends. It’s not fair that my classroom smells like a Mexican restaurant when it’s unsafe to even patronize (Patrón-ize?) one currently. So if you walk past my classroom door and see me fondling a bottle of GermsNoMore and bringing it lovingly up to my nose, I might need you to come in and confiscate it and replace it with some chips and salsa, thank you very much. 

      If you need me for anything this Thanksgiving break, you can find me in my backyard wearing my favorite tortoise shell oversized hoopies sipping a massive margarita in my not-yet-purchased hammock. 

      hhttps://media.giphy.com/media/JTIiKtGDYjbsK3LJsa/giphy.gif

      What are the random things that you miss, friends?

      Posted in teaching, Uncategorized, writing | 4 Comments | Tagged funny, pandemic, teaching
    • A Teacher Tale: How I Tortured My Students for My Own Entertainment This Week

      Posted at 10:51 am by Mrs. Ram Jam, on October 24, 2020

      It’s no secret that my class’s content is mind-numbing. I sympathize with my students who have fallen asleep, cheeks pressed to their sanitized desks and drool unspooling from the corners of their mouths, lulled into slumber because The Odyssey is boring. Who can blame them? It’s terribly long, was written eons ago, and is a poem. I struggle to contain my excitement, too.

      (You have no idea how much middle schoolers loathe poetry. But I adore yelling:  Guess what? We’re going to read a poem today!!!! And delight in the resounding chorus of teenage groans of displeasure following my pronouncement.) 

      Anyway, to further torture students, I try to make it as awkward as possible for my own entertainment.

      Because messing with the kids is the best part of my job. 

      Here’s how I tortured my students this week:

      1. I made them do their work in Kami. If you’re unfamiliar with Kami, it’s a PDF annotation program. The students despise it because despite an autosave feature, it only saves frequently not constantly. Apparently they’ve never known the despair of writing an essay in Microsoft Word that you’ve stayed up all night to complete that’s due to a professor in a couple of hours and losing your work because you accidentally closed the document without hitting “save now.” The. Horror. Google Docs has spoiled them. Experiencing the collective agony of pre-Google technology will make them better human beings.
      2. I made them talk to their laptops. Well, I specifically asked them to converse with Kami and ply her with compliments so she’d be more willing to save their work. An ALARMING number of students performed the exact opposite of my request and told Kami horrible, awful things, calling her names. One student even expressed to Kami a disquieting desire to light her on fire. Middle schoolers are terrible at being kind, but they loved talking to inanimate objects–even though they were being total Regina Georges while doing so. Weirdos. 

      (gif credit)

      1. I made them listen to the cyclops scene from The Odyssey straight through, it’s thirty minutes long, without stopping–on a Friday. Sir Ian McKellen narrates the audiobook for them, but Gandalf fails to impress them. I did soften the blow by playing some pop culture clips of the Lotus Eaters beforehand. At least I didn’t test them?

      (gif credit)

      1. I talked to myself obnoxiously to fill awkward silences. My second block refuses to warm up to me, laugh at my terrible puns and dad jokes, and to be anything but serious. I will loosen them up, and if it means I’m narrating my inner monologue audibly for the rest of the year, then so be it. 
      2. I called myself beautiful. Actually, I referred to myself as a “lustrous goddess,” like in The Odyssey, and the boys laughed in horror at a grown woman’s audacity at calling herself pretty. If you want your ego shattered, I suggest employing this strategy. Another good strategy is to ask them to guess your age. ONLY embark on either of these methods if you can brush off the comments and have a sense of humor about their reactions. (Also. What. The. Hell? What kind of society have we created that it’s not socially acceptable to call yourself beautiful and that it makes people and children uncomfortable when you do?)

      (gif credit)

      What did you do, teacher friends, to add a little humor to your classrooms this week? 

      Posted in education, teaching | 2 Comments | Tagged english teacher, middle school, middle school teacher, teaching, teaching middle school
    • A Teacher Tale: Teaching During a Pandemic Update #1

      Posted at 10:25 am by Mrs. Ram Jam, on October 17, 2020

      Don’t get me wrong, pandemic teaching is rough, an understatement, but my teacher life got a gazillion times easier last week.

      My school had its fifth first day of school last week. What a weird thing to type, but it’s 2020.  Here are the five first days we’ve had:

      1. The first day for Group One students.
      2. The first day for Group Two students.
      3. The first day teaching in-person and at-home learners.
      4. The first day with both Groups One and Two on campus.
      5. The first day for previously at-home learners.

      At the first nine weeks’ end, our Home Based Virtual Learners (HBVLs) had the option to come back to physical school, and so many did. And while it’s fantastic to finally meet them IRL–cue me squealing in excitement through my mask while taking a HBVL’s temperature last Wednesday Jayda!!!!! It’s so nice to meet you in real life! Look at you!–It. Was. So. Strange.

      I’d just been teaching heads and necks, sometimes just eyebrows and foreheads, and instead of floating heads eerily levitating through the hallways on Wednesday morning like a Disney Channel show’s terrible Halloween episode, those heads were connected to BODIES. Some of my HBVL boys are GIANT, and it completely caught me off guard.

      And something that didn’t catch me off guard–the freedom afforded by being unchained to my computer screen for four blocks. Because with more HBVLs on campus, administration gave us the go-ahead to create a virtual school schedule, so I only teach virtually during third block now. 

      (GIF credit)

      I can stand up if I want. I can move around more, even though I’m still keeping my distance. I don’t have to constantly monitor the Google Meet chat, my email, and Impero (our student technology monitoring software) every single class. I don’t have to shut down a Meet at the end of every class and start a new one while trying to make sure the in-person students are social distancing, know what’s due the following day, and are walking into the hallway on time. There’s more normalcy, but I know it’s possibly short-lived with fall’s onset and increasing numbers of COVID-19 throughout the country.

      And while those students returning to school has made teaching a gazillion times easier, other aspects of more students on campus are troublesome:

      (GIF credit)

      • More students means less space for social distancing in the hallways and in the classrooms.
      • More students aren’t wearing their masks properly.
      • More students are sharing supplies and food when they aren’t supposed to.
      • More students are sitting in cramped classrooms without their masks on eating lunch.
      • More students means going through more sanitizing wipes, and who knows if and when we will run out. 
      • More students means more are showing up to school sick even though they should stay home.
      • More students is harder to manage than fewer students.
      • More students makes it appear like the coronavirus is disappearing when it’s not. 

      And like I said, I’m ecstatic more students are back and actual teaching is easier, but we can’t forget that this isn’t over yet. Please do your part to help keep all students, teachers, and everyone else safe. 

      There’s only so much teachers can do. 

      (GIF credit)

      Posted in teaching, Uncategorized | 0 Comments | Tagged teacher problems, teaching, teaching during a pandemic, teaching middle school
    • A Teacher Tale: What Teachers Really Think About Parent Emails

      Posted at 9:22 am by Mrs. Ram Jam, on October 10, 2020

      Hey Parents and Guardians,

      We teachers are more than happy to answer your questions and concerns via email, but before you hit send, could you ask yourself a couple of questions first?

      Before you send that email to your child’s teacher, is it kind?

      We are working our educator booties off this year.

      A mean email can derail our entire day and even week. We cry over these emails. We lose sleep over these emails. We have panic attacks over these emails. We might even turn a little mean ourselves when we get these emails and lash out at our own loved ones in misdirected anger.

      We then have to respond to an unkind email, try to turn the situation around, and wait on pins and needles for another response, which again, could be an angry one. 

      It’s a vicious cycle.

      And before you send that email to your child’s teacher, can you find the information somewhere else?

      We are working our educator booties off this year, and parent emails create more work for teachers.

      Often times when you email us, the answers to the questions you’re asking have already been given to you. If you look on PowerSchool you can see the answer to why Johnny has an F. He didn’t complete three test grade assignments, and there’s a note for every single missed assignment. If you’re questioning our late work policies, the answer might be on the syllabus, which you actually signed off on, stating that you read and understood the policies laid out on it. 

      And before you send that email to your child’s teacher, consider if it might be better to come in for a face to face (or a Zoom) conference with all your child’s teachers.

      We are working our educator booties off this year, and parent emails create more work for teachers.

      It takes a lot less time for us to talk about your concerns versus us writing an email back.

      An email that you wrote that maybe took you two minutes to compose can devour our entire 75 minute planning period. Yes, it can really take that long to reacquaint ourselves with your child’s work, write a thoughtful detailed response, and proofread until we go cross eyed–because heaven forbid an unsightly typo exists in it that you could use against us, to further prove your point that we’re incompetent.

      And before you send that email to your child’s teacher, and this one is going to be hard to swallow folks so prepare yourselves, ask yourself, could your child be lying to you?

      Children lie. All. Of. The. Time. 

      They cheat. They plagiarize. They fib about why work isn’t done and tell tall tales about their assignments being done when they’re not. 

      They’ll claim that teachers aren’t helping them and that teachers don’t like them and that teachers are mean and and and and and and and. 

      And while occasionally these claims might be true, more often than not, they aren’t.

      And then when we point out these things are untrue, we still aren’t believed sometimes. 

      And before you send that email to your child’s teacher, are you a teacher too?

      These are the worst emails, emails from parents who are teachers too. 

      Have I sent a snooty, condescending email to one of Little Thing’s teachers?

      Yes.

      And I’m terribly sorry. I don’t know everything, I’ve never been in your classroom, and it was a really shitty thing to do.

      I’m trying to be better because I know how terrible parent emails can be.

      So before you email your child’s teacher ask yourself:

      Is it kind?

      Can I find the information somewhere else?

      Is it better to have a conference?

      Is my child lying to me?

      Am I teacher too?

      Posted in teaching | 3 Comments | Tagged english teacher, parent emails, teacher, teacher problems, teaching
    • A Teacher Poem: We’re in Trouble, Shoot!

      Posted at 9:34 am by Mrs. Ram Jam, on September 26, 2020
      trouble
      trouble
      troubleshoot
      nobody can hear me
      i've been speaking but i'm on mute
      
      trouble
      trouble
      troubleshoot
      caydon let the Zoom
      because his Chromebook needed to reboot
      
      trouble
      trouble
      troubleshoot
      amira's not paying attention
      because she's choosing a filter to make her look cute
      
      trouble
      trouble 
      troubleshoot
      nobody can hear me
      i've been speaking but i'm on mute
      
      trouble
      trouble 
      troubleshoot
      owen! turn off your camera!
      your dad just walked by in his birthday suit!
      
      trouble
      trouble
      troubleshoot
      mj's Google Doc won't load
      so he can't do the lesson on greek and latin roots
      
      trouble
      trouble
      troubleshoot
      i forgot to click record at the beginning of class
      hope i'm not slapped with a lawsuit
      
      trouble
      trouble
      troubleshoot
      Nobody can hear me. 
      I've been speaking, but I'm on mute.
      
      We're in trouble, trouble, trouble. Shoot!
      Nobody can hear us.
      We've been speaking, but we're on mute.
      
      We're in
      trouble
      trouble
      trouble, bang!
      
      trouble shots fired!
      bang!
      all the teachers are tired
      
      trouble shots fired!
      bang!
      am i too young to retire?
      
      We're in trouble, trouble, trouble, shoot!
      Nobody can hear teachers.
      They've been speaking, but they're on mute.
      
      We're in trouble!
      Shots fired!
      Bang!
      
      We're in trouble!
      Don't shoot the messenger!
      Bang!
      
      The traditional classroom is dead.
      It isn't funny.
      Time of death:  2020.
      
      We're in trouble, trouble, trouble.
      Shoot!
      
      Posted in poems, poetry, teaching, Uncategorized | 0 Comments | Tagged poem, poems, poems about teaching, poetry, troubleshoot
    • A Teacher Tale: Virtual Learning Concerns

      Posted at 11:30 am by Mrs. Ram Jam, on August 29, 2020

      Like any teacher who has started the 2020-2021 school year, I am trudging uphill to get a handle on teaching my curriculum in a digital world. Who am I kidding? We’ve been “in” school for three weeks, and I still won’t even get to the state-mandated curriculum until Tuesday. Like I said in a previous post, “I feel more like tech support than an actual English teacher” at this point. And in this new realm of almost fully digital teaching (I’ve gotten rid of all paper including books this year), these are the key factors that I’m worried about.

      1. Cheating and plagiarism. With the interwebs at their fingertips and teachers’ minimal capabilities of monitoring students learning at home, cheating and plagiarism, already an epidemic in middle and high schools, will be more rampant. Yes, there are programs to help catch plagiarism. Yes, there are programs where teachers can monitor what students are doing on their screens. Yes, there are programs where students can take tests in locked browsers. But. There’s no way for teachers to know that students at home don’t have their phones out or even another computer out googling answers while testing. Granted, the way that most English tests are set up anymore makes it hard to cheat, but that isn’t the case with math or social studies tests. And there’s no good way to prove that a student cheated with this setup. I also already had a student plagiarize an exit ticket, on a question that wasn’t even really plagiarize-able. Last year during digital learning, I had gobs of students put straight up the first thing they found in Google as their answers to a test grade assignment about “The Cask of Amontillado.” It’s loads easier to prove plagiarism, but students will deny it even with the proof in their face (and don’t get me started on the parent denial of their perfect student committing fraud). I’m enforcing a strict plagiarism policy this year to make it hit home to students that cheating in any form is not cool.
      2. Being recorded. There. I said it. We’re required to record our Google Meets. I’m being recorded all the time and so are the students. No thank you. First of all, I don’t understand how legally this can be a thing. I’m recording minors. Everyday. Secondly, the students don’t want to talk, whether it’s because of the fact they’re being recorded or you know they’re just middle schoolers who don’t want to talk. Thirdly, it’s a can of worms. It makes it awkward to correct a student’s behavior. My tone is forever documented on that recording, so are the students’. It’s going to make organic conversations around literature die, and these complex texts that we read at the middle school level discuss adult situations. You never know what kids are going to ask. Romeo and Juliet have a wedding night. They commit suicide. Odysseus cheats on his wife. Men rape women. While I’ve always handled the questions the kids ask about these texts professionally, I would hate to think what an outsider listening to these conversations might think about my classroom. I can’t skip over these parts; the kids are smart, they get it, and they ask questions about it. (Now granted, if students are doing independent work or testing, I don’t make them stay in the Meet the whole time because their technology doesn’t work properly if they’re running the Meet and trying to do work at the same time, but I run the Meet the whole time so they can pop in and out to ask questions.)
      3. Parent criticism. Listen, I’ve always dealt with this, lost sleep over it, had panic attacks about it, thought I’d quit my job over it, etc. But parents now can literally hear what’s going on in my classroom and your classroom if the students aren’t plugged into a headset. My students are on silent to get rid of background noise for the whole meeting, but I have no idea what’s going on in their houses or who is listening in because I can’t hear them and I can’t see them either. It’s eerie to know that people are listening who shouldn’t be. Not that parents aren’t welcome. Or that their input isn’t valuable. Or that they shouldn’t advocate for their children if they believe their children have been unjustly treated . . . but still. I’m human. Sometimes my tone comes out wrong, or I’m being sarcastic, or the parents have missed what’s happened before with their students, or– All. Of. The. Other. Possibilities. Parents are being eavesdroppers. And that’s creepy. Sorry not sorry. 
      4. Shift in teacher and student work expectations. I refuse to be available 24/7 to students and parents because of digital learning. I refuse to bend over backward to meet unreasonable digital learning expectations. I refuse to run myself ragged just because society demands it so. I can still be a good teacher even while saying no. I’ve already shifted my paper-based lessons to be fully digital. Do you know how many hours of work that took? I now don’t get my own lunch break because the students have to eat in our rooms. Heck, I have to clock into work at 7:05 and I’m now with students until 1:15 every day, except for SWIFT runs to the restroom in between classes. I’m now chained to my desk in front of three computers instead of up and interacting with kids during lessons. When students are quizzing, testing, or writing, that’s my time to grade in class. That goes out the window with virtual learning because I’m troubleshooting device issues with kids and monitoring their screens constantly instead. I’ve got even less time to grade at work than I did previously. And the poor kids. No recess. No true group work. Also tied to their device, or devices if they’re at home. Often their technology doesn’t work. Lots of students can’t manage their time in class without a teacher directly in front of them. Their technology is a distraction. And I could go on and on. But mainly, I’m distressed at how we’re expecting students to be miniature corporate business people who can toggle among Google Meets, a lesson, and four other tabs when there are kids out there who can’t even get logged into a website they use every day.  They’re just missing business suits and MBA’s. Pretty soon they’ll be telling their coworkers, I mean fellow students, to “lean in” and be “team players” and throwing “synergy” around like confetti.
      5. Is virtual learning our new forever? Once the pandemic gets under control, is virtual learning going to be a permanent part of brick and mortar schools? If I have students who get sick or have to have surgery requiring them to miss a week or two or seven of school, am I going to be expected to teach them while they’re at home if the parents want that for their children? Am I going to have to be prepared on any given day from this point forward to teach students at home too while most students will be physically present? If I have to have surgery that requires me to be out but I’m able to teach from home, will I be allowed to do it? Should I be allowed to do it? Is it one of those just because we can doesn’t mean we should scenarios for both students and teachers? Also, just an FYI, it takes three to four times as long to cover material virtually than it does in person. Students will get less done and learn less if this set-up is now part of our new forever. 

      I’ve got all kinds of other things on my mind, and I know the above is all rambly and gluey and incoherent in places, but at this point, I’m not worried about being eloquent. 

      And I’d love for all those Higher Ups in education, whether at the school level, district level, state level, or national level, to be alright with their workdays being recorded and listened into by whoever just so happens to walk by while they’re being live-streamed into people’s houses. Just saying. 

      Posted in teaching, writing | 4 Comments | Tagged teaching, teaching during a pandemic, teaching middle school, virtual learning
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