End Times are Bittersweet

It’s been a while since I updated my Xanga. I decided I would today, because something special happened: All of my students cried today.

No, I didn’t yell at them.
I didn’t hit them.
I didn’t suspend anyone, nor did I expel anyone. 

I simply spoke of why I teach, what I appreciate about each of them individually, and my desire for them to go to college and to be successful. I told them I was proud of them for all of their hard work, and I know that their dedication to become better will take them far. 

My students have made tremendous strides in both their academic content knowledge and their character. I stole a piece from Rafe Esquith, a 1998 National Teacher of the Year. He helped me revisit Kohlberg’s 6 Different Levels for Motivation:

1)      fear

2)      rewards

3)      pleasing people

4)      follow the rules

5)      considerate of other people

6)      a personal code of behavior, doing things because that’s part of who you are

As a beginning teacher, I operated in only the first level. Everything had to do with rules and consequences; the more strongly you opposed what I told you to do, the more severe your consequence would be. I was very liberal with giving consequences, and I would publicly humiliate my students by being sarcastic (Case and point: A kid would be like, “You son of a bi_ch!” and I would respond, “Come on, don’t talk about yourself like that” to publicly embarrass the kid so he wouldn’t do it again).  It’s true that fear produces a façade of good management. Casual observers coming into my classroom always commented on the amazing management I had of my students. Truth be told, I was a jerk to my students and scared them to behaving the way I wanted them to. I realized that even as an adult, I would be turned off by a professor who was belligerent, demeaning, or sarcastic for whatever reason.

Now, I consciouly make the effort to never make fun of or yell at my students. I try to understand things from their perspective. The math is easy for me. For them, it's the first time they've seen it. Due to poor teachers in their past, some of them also have weak foundations. Therefore, when they ask questions, they aren't trying to be stupid or rude; it's a serious question that requires a solid answer, even if I have explained it 500 times. What's wrong with doing it the 501 times?

In terms of how I do manage my kids, I make them tell me all the time how they ought to behave and what a logical consequence for misbehavior should be. When a kid can state how they should behave and the logical consequence of misbehavior, they are much more likely to do the right thing. I tell all of my students this: "I trust you to know how to behave yourselves. You can make mistakes on any of the math problems but you better think long and hard before you decide to break my trust."

In addition to being more patient with my students, I have tried to help them enjoy learning. I have tried to fight the sytem that teaches our students to find their worth in the end-of-the-year test. It is unbelievable how every single PA announcement at lunch starts with, “There are ____ days left until the CST. We know that Johnnie Cochran Cougars will be successful on the CST.” Some incompetent higher up thinks that test prep and pep rallies is the end-all solution to the testing woes at the school. I thinking teaching our students that testing is EVERYTHING and then giving them all these shortcuts to “do well” on it is WRONG.

Instead, I tell my students to learn so that they can be successful in life. For example, I read the news every morning. Why do I read the news? Is it so I can be successful on the CST exam? I go to the store to buy something and mentally calculate the amount of change the clerk is supposed to give back to me. Do I practice mental math to get a good score on the CST test? Of course not! I do it because these skills are just part of the necessary tools to be successful in life. The classroom for them is the training grounds for real life, not the end-of-the-year test.

This has convinced my students, who know failure all too well, that it’s still worth it to try. Life is not about being perfect; it's about learning from your mistakes. And if my students can grasp onto the idea that the test doesn’t define who they are but only serves to tell them what they know or do not know, then they will be much more invested. My student thus have worked relentlessly with me; for months and months now, we’ve worked from 6:30am in the morning until 5pm. On days when I'm not too burned out or on some of my vacation days, I will visit the house of my students who need extra intervention. The message that I send to my students is to maximize their time and to work hard. Like my parents always told me, “Lost time can never be bought back.” It’s one of those things that isn’t available at Target.

My students, in working hard, have found the key ingredient to success. Not all of them are amazing mathematicians now. They are, however, better people – ones that work hard, love challenge, refuse to give up, and are nice and kind to people around them. The people that come to my classroom can testify to that; every principal in the local district, cherie gunther (the person in charge of secondary mathematics in lausd), incoming Teach for America corps members, and many others have made comments about the calmness and efficiency with which my students work. I am deeply thankful for the memories that they and I have been able to create together for the last 2 years.

I am working now on submitting their names to teachers in the LA region that I know will continue to look out for their well-being and education as I move up to Fresno to work at a charter school and take on more leadership positions. In my closing remarks for the day, I told my students to invite me back to their high school graduation. I promised them that wherever I am 4 years from today that I will make it back to see them off before they go to college.
 

I close with a story that is special to me, that speaks again to the power of hard work:

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A Teaching Moment 

“Mr. Lin. That’s sloppy, and I don’t like sloppy,” said Jessica. I looked down at my shirt, and then at my tie – nope, nothing there. I looked back at Jessica with a quizzical expression. “No, Mr. Lin. On the whiteboard,” Jessica said, pointing enthusiastically at the question that was on the whiteboard. I glanced behind me and quickly scanned what I had written on the board. Jessica had stolen one of my lines to let me know that I did not properly balance the equation, and needed to go back and correct the mistake. Jessica had come so far in thirteen months. I smiled as I reached for the chalk.  

I met Jessica on the first day of school, and it seemed clear from the outset that her primary goal during her first few weeks was my demise. Initially, I dismissed her behavior as youthful and naïve misconduct. She insisted she was unable to properly diagram the “Problem of the Day,” and even more, could not add or subtract two digit numbers. She encouraged other students to do the same, wasting precious class time with inappropriate comments. Month after month, this behavior continued, even after a lengthy conversation with her parents and an assurance from them that Jessica would no longer be a nuisance.

Rather than subsiding, however, her efforts grew in intensity and scope, even spreading beyond the borders of Room 102. A fellow teacher even thought to ask me what I had done to instigate such a smear campaign. To account for over forty missing assignments, Jessica lied to her mother and maintained that Mr. Lin refused to assign homework. In class, she continued to disrupt, disturb, and divide. She routinely interrupted my conversations with other teachers, desperately interjecting, “Why can’t you be my teacher? Mr. Lin’s class is sooo boring!” Apparently, these provocations were not enough. A few months ago, Jessica approached a school administrator and accused me of molesting her.  

I had every reason to move Jessica to a different classroom or school, but I instead chose to work with her. It was inexcusable to let my management problems or remedial students fall into the shadows of my classroom; to do so would defy the very reason that I had chosen teaching as my vocation. I implored her mother to make it mandatory for Jessica to see me outside of our class sessions. She needed the individual attention, and we spent many lunches and weekends discussing her personal issues. From her academic life (or lack of one) to family life to even her experience at the after school programs I had encouraged her to attend, I sought to know the Jessica beyond the standardized tests and report cards. It was a daily battle and a cultivated mindset to positively and constructively praise her as she achieved the incremental goals we set. Finally, it happened – the comment about my sloppiness. Her milestone comment manifested a trust that cannot be bought, but can only be arduously earned. We had a connection that transcended her immense personal obstacles, and I couldn’t have been happier for the progress that we made.  

Jessica’s story is one among many that have taught me the power of working relentlessly and having high expectations. High expectations is having an unwavering faith and an unflinching patience that empowers all students to achieve. It is loving people that are sometimes not the easiest to love, but need it the most. It is working not to move on or dismiss problems, but working through them without thinking of the opportunity costs. It is what I would like to imagine would allow every single junior higher in a classroom to raise their hands and say, “Mr. Lin, that’s sloppy, and I don’t like sloppy.

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The Good

Life is moving at a frightening pace! It seems things only get busier, and sometimes it’s scary to thinking about how much time has passed! Yet, these past 6 weeks have been some of the most rewarding

Teaching has been so amazing. I’ve been fortunate to be able to teach about 75% of the students that I had last year. My students are so well behaved. The second year is like day and night compared with the first year. When my program director came to observe me, not once in the entire period did I issue a negative command such as be quiet, sit down, etc. The first thing my program director wrote down in his card was, “Do you remember the first time I came to see you?” Samir’s one of the few people that’s been able to witness my students since their first week in 7^th grade. When he walked around, he observed 27/33 of my students answering correctly complicated balancing equation questions!

At our last teacher meeting, I shared with the teachers some of the upcoming topics that I’d be teaching my students. Some of the teachers suggested that I not teach those topics, because they said it was too hard and it was confuse my students. I showed them some artifacts of my student work this year, and they were impressed. I didn’t think I’d ever say this, but some of my students are just as sharp and as proficient in math as I was when I was their age. Though our class averages are the highest at the school, my Algebra class still has a lot of work.  A quote that I share with them is:  

"Impossible is just a big word thrown around by small men who find it easier to live in the world they've been given than to explore the power they have to change it. Impossible is not a fact. It is an opinion. Impossible is not a declaration. It is a dare. Impossible is potential. Impossible is temporary. Impossible is nothing."

I believe it’s possible for my students to attain the same math scores that would be respectable at any district anywhere in California. That is my big goal this year, and what I have poured much of my time, energy, and thoughts into. Like I told Samir, “It doesn’t matter what people think of my teaching, how my students score on my assessments, or how well behaved they are. In the end, there is one thing that matters and that is their CST score. It’s wrong, but the high schools use that as the sole determinant of placement in classes. Once students are on a certain track, they stay in that track. To a large degree, that determines their future prospects. So, to summarize it, they NEED to get the CST, or end of the year test right.”

I find it so funny that several of my kids have internalized the messages that I’ve sent them. The other day, I skipped a step in one of my problems, and a kid raised her hand. She said, “Mr. Lin, you skipped a step. That’s sloppy, and I don’t like sloppy.” Haha, that made me smile because I always use that line with them. The other day, some of my students were complaining about how much work they get in class. I used the line, “I make you do lots of questions because it makes Mr. Lin smarter.” The kid responded, “No, it doesn’t make you smarter. It makes us smarter.” Haha, that’s how the class responds when I say that now. My students are truly precious to me. We have come a long way.  

The Bad

The one class that has caused my great frustration and anguish is my 5^th period class, which is mainly special ed and students on discipline plans. Some special person in the district thought it was a good idea to mainstream the special education students into general education classrooms. What that means is that you have special education and general education students mingled together, with the hopes that special education students will be influenced for the better. Whoever came up with that idea has probably never taught in the classroom, because it’s such an erroneous thought. There is definitely a pull and an influencing of one group with the other, but it’s in the wrong direction; the special ed students often times hold back the general education students.

Last week, I saw one of the most ridiculous things I’ve seen in a while. We spent a ridiculous 70+ minutes lining up, because 3-4 of my students could not shut up! Since I hate sloppy execution of directions, I made them go in and out of the classroom over 15 times! At the end, I was so frustrated, I let them know what I was thinking. I said, “I am a little frustrated, but what I’m really feeling is disappointed. I’m worried about you. You’re like a 15-year old who is still getting your diapers changed and you’re still learning how to crawl because you can’t walk. That’s what I think of your behavior and your math ability. It’s not where it’s supposed to be.”  I spent the remainder of the period calling their parents, and asking for permission to hold them an hour after class. A lot of my students gave me push back on this, saying that it was unfair to punish the whole based on the actions of the few. To that, I responded, “If you think education is a waste of time, then you’re view of education is so wrong. Friends, punishment comes 10 years down the line when you’re trying to find food in the dumpster. Education is not punishment.”

Some of their IEP’s, or individualized plans, say that they are not supposed to reach grade level standards. Some of their teachers have told me that it’s impossible to try. The thought has crossed my mind. At times, I wonder, “How is it possible that you can be so tragically behind and so blatantly disrespectful?” If I wanted you to suffer the ultimate punishment, I would give up and stop teaching you. Yet, in my heart and in my mind, I fight to believe that it’s possible. I made a promise to them, which is that I would visit each of their families and speak to their parents. I told them that I refused to let them give up, or to take the easy way out. It’s a fight that I don’t know if I’ll win, but I have determined to try.

I try, because I believe that education is the way out of their oftentimes very difficult circumstances. To illustrate, a kid named D___ said someone’s mother was stupid out loud in class. That obviously warranted a phone call home in class. When I told D to come to my desk, he said he would hit me if I made the phone call. I responded by saying, “You touch me and it’s game over. You lay a finger on me and I WILL take you down.” I proceeded to make the phone call to let his guardians know about his behavior, then sent him to his counselor. Later on, I learned that: 1) all his teachers had sent him to the counselor prior to my class 2) his mother had gone to jail the day before 3) his sister had been kidnapped from their house just a few months ago. In my mind, I was thinking, “Will, what an idiot. The kid must not feel very good right now. You just reprimanded him in front of the whole class to the point of tears. If you were him, you’d probably want to die.” Most definitely, I made the apology to the kid on the phone (I had suspended him for a few days). I let him know that I always wanted to give him that safe space, and I wanted him to let me know what’s going on. I cared about him, and I wanted him to learn in my classroom.

A lot of my students have lives that are tough, I know. I never claim to understand their lives, because I don’t. I know it’s tough, but I haven’t experienced anything like it in my life. I tell them that I am always willing to listen, and willing to give them their space. I also let them know how important it is for me them to continue to try and to do their best to learn, because it is their way to a better life.

Some funny lines that I used in the classroom:

1) The zoo’s in San Diego. This is the classroom.

2) Are you OUT of your MIND?! 

3) I only make you do so much work because it makes me smarter.