The Meterstick of Self-Worth

Six years ago today, I was told that I should think about preparing my family for the worst case scenario.  Although I was still in a post-surgical haze, I remember being wheeled off for a series of body scans… "checking for lesions," the doctors had said.  I grabbed a picture of my family and held it close to my heart.  I prayed to God that I still had more time.  I bargained, as I suppose we all do, and I beat the odds.

I have experienced many losses since that day that feels like a lifetime ago, and yet like last week.  Most of them were unexpected, and several were young adults.  My former students, my IS alum.  I think of them daily, sometimes with questions, sometimes with immense sadness, and oftentimes, I just really miss them.  We (the seasoned teachers at IS) all miss them.  This thievery has changed each of us in different ways, triggering our thoughts to morph into action, forcing us to be less complacent, and catalyzing us to pursue our passions.

Translating these critical values into our lessons as high school teachers is tricky business.  Focusing upon the emotional well being of our teens while simultaneously presenting a well balanced curriculum leads to the age old question: What is our most important role as educators?  In addition, does anyone ever ask the students what they want/need from their educational experience, either during high school and/or beyond?  I often wonder who we are serving in this institution we call high school.  Obviously I have bought into the system if I have chosen to teach for twenty six years, but I do it because I am passionate about teaching kids, not about the infrastructure with which we have to work around.

Not a day passes by that I don't wonder, what about the students?  How do they feel about this decision or that?  Has anyone asked them to design a course sequence or a college application?  How many people are truly aware of the schedules that they keep?  How do we change the perception that not getting into a competitive college equates with "feeling like I'm not good enough?"  The unfortunate reality is that these guidelines are what our adolescents use as indicators of who they are as human beings.  GPAs, SATs, college acceptances, they are their metersticks of self-worth.  And the students work so hard to match a certain point of this nebulous guideline which, in reality, has no top end in sight. In other words, they have set the bar so high for themselves, that the goal becomes close to infinity, an unobtainable standard.  The reality is, even for the student who successfully makes it across the threshold into an elite college, he/she will eventually have to face the job market and face rejections.  He/she will suddenly equate inadequate cover letters and resumes with not being good enough.  And the story continues.

I wish I could explain to my students how I felt six years ago today.  Although I didn't have a near death experience as we have all read about, I did see my life flash before my eyes.  Then I forced my mindset to shift as I visualized my future before my eyes.  I needed to force myself to believe only positive things were ahead for me, and I flushed out all the negativity.  I have continued this philosophical approach to this day as it is my mode of survival.  I cannot waste my energy thinking about the things that I cannot do due my health limitations; I can only think about the snippets of life that are amazing and I meditate upon the experiences that I will create in the future.  I don't have a meterstick by which I measure myself anymore, or mode of comparing myself to my peers.  I wake up every day knowing that I will do the best job that I can do.  That is the most that I can ask of myself.

I live my life assuming the best case scenario until I am told otherwise.  In that arena, nothing has changed.  Six years ago today, I ignored the doctor's advice and never told my family what he had said.  I stuck out the forty eight hours until my test results came back and found out it was a misdiagnosis.  I wish I could wrap up this blogpost with a happy ending for my three former students who are no longer with us.  It is in their honor, however, that many of their former teachers have grown stronger and will work even harder to broaden the scope of defining student success. Because, in the end, the human spirit cannot be measured in centimeters and we are insulting the human condition to think otherwise.

Ode to Luis

Written by Ms. Berman

Fixating on pictures and texts, disbelieving
For hours each of us processing, grieving.
Riddled with guilt for flaking that day
Dwelling on words, all lost chances to say.

 

A piece of us broken, such angst and despair
Yet we know from reflecting now's the time we must share.
And continue to speak with you, continue to love
As we strive to connect with your spirit above.

 

We must be kind to ourselves, unleash horrid wrath
And cherish the memories you brought onto our path.
All the lessons we've learned in a matter of days
Will grow to make sense as we see through the haze.

 

We will accept questions unanswered, from dark hours we thrust
And work to find peace, spur a world with more trust.
We will all bond together, in your honor we take pride
No fear of emotions, no tears we shall hide.

 

Our love and our energy, we must all take collection
To regain solid footing through our human connection.
Luis, now at one with the sea, stars and sky
We all bid you safe travels, but it's never good bye.

 

Talent and Beyond...

Ms. Berman,

I just wanted to tell you that the showcase last Friday was amazing. What the staff and students gave to us was a joyful celebration of what our IS school and kids are all about. I left smiling.

I missed the showcase last year, so this was the first time I've had a chance to see, in person, how supportive of one another and lively the IS kids are as a community, on stage and off. Natalie and Bruno were great emcees—relaxed, confident, and clearly enjoying their classmates and teachers.  All of the kids who performed really showed what IS has given them and what they bring to IS, including their willingness to work hard on their own to bring their acts to the stage, the ability and confidence to put themselves out there (not an easy thing to do), and their clear desire to give something back to their school. And the kids in the audience were equally impressive, turning out on a Friday night en masse and cheering their classmates on. They completely won my heart when Mr. Robinson's began to sing "Lean on Me," then asked to start over, explaining that he wasn’t used to standing up alone in front of an audience and singing without a group. Suddenly he wasn’t alone: As the music started again, the audience was there to give him the backup he needed, clapping to the music, singing along with the chorus, and letting him know in every way possible that they were there with him. Not to mention having a lot of fun doing it.  He couldn’t have chosen a better song for the occasion.

None of this would have happened without the IS staff and administration that bring out the best in the students by encouraging them to take the lead and trusting them to bring their best to the school and one another. That freedom and confidence promotes the confidence, independence, and creativity that our kids share, as well as the strong community that we all value at IS.

At the showcase, it was clear that the support and respect you, Dr. Ankenny, and all of the teachers and staff of IS give to your students is reciprocated and shines through in who they are and who they are becoming. Thanks to all of you for a wonderful evening!

Rachel Myers

Sophie Mueller’s mom

Nothing can take away the Magic!

Written by Ms. Berman

There are some things in life that I know to be true with the upmost of certainly.  One of them is that the students at I.S. value the sense of community (frequently referred to as the I.S. family) to the highest degree.  When there is a perception that their safe haven is going to be reckoned with, many students cannot tolerate the thought of this potential disruption.  The School of International Studies feels like home for many adolescents, and has become the single aspect of their lives that they know they can count upon.

We are going through a period of adjustment at SDHS, no doubt.  It is no surprise that the financial turbulence that has affected our nation has ultimately impacted San Diego High School.   As an educator and club advisor, I have difficult decisions to make as to whether to shelter my students from the turbulence or involve them in the problem solving process.  The reality, however, is that our students are incredibly savvy, and have a keen sense of the climate at I.S. even when we aren’t aware that they are watching and listening.

In the end, this is what I hope students will take from the experience.  Adults sometimes get frustrated when they can’t do what they want to support their students, but, at I.S., there is an underlying code of conduct that is ultimately followed.  We stay united, we do our research, we use proper protocol, we garner community support, and we navigate through challenging times with dignity.  The important lesson learned, as an I.S. parent stated, is “not that doing the right thing always leads to the ‘right’ result, although that is what we hope for, but more importantly, that we continue to do what is essential to maintain integrity and justice regardless of the circumstance.”

As always, good arises from every difficult situation, and in this case, the upheaval has forced me to take a step back and evaluate what is creating so much angst for our teens.  This is essential if I am to properly support my students.  This turmoil is not solely about money, policy making, or regulations.  It is about the feelings that are associated with dedication, protectiveness, and camaraderie and the fear that stems from feeling threatened.  These are, in fact, all positive qualities about our students that we need to recognize and cherish at this time.  This is the essence of I.S.  

The I.S. Benefit Showcase is more than a fundraiser; it is a commemoration of our community.  It is an evening to forgo our concerns over policy making and procedural doctrines, and enjoy watching the culmination of this collaborative effort of our magnificent students.  It is a night to ignore calorie counting and indulge in the homemade delicacies that our students will manage to produce in the midst of all of their school work.  It is a time to enjoy the many talents of the students on the stage.

After all, the I.S. family is created by, and for, the students.  As long as they remain, so will the magic.

This I also know to be true: Nothing can take away the magic!  Why else would I.S. Alumni be flying into San Diego to attend the I.S. Benefit Showcase?  On March 23, 2012, at 6 pm, they will be a poignant reminder to all of us what it truly means to come home.

The Keyholders

Written by Alexander Jay Ludington

Class of 2010

I was in the Philippines for three weeks this January. I had heard of this well-known international school in my family's home town of Baguio City called Brent School. What I didn't know was that my family has a history teaching there: My great-grandfather taught there to support his eight children, and now two of my cousins teach there. I was also excited to learn, during my recent trip, that it is an International Baccalaureate school!

Beyond all the incredible things I learned in I.S. and lifelong perspectives it granted me, I think what validated the program's success was the conversation I had with one of those cousins who teaches IB English at Brent School. I had probably met her (Celeste Reyes) once before in my life, and our relationship that night reflected the polite awkwardness that distant relatives often share at such dinners. But once it was established that she taught IB English and I had graduated with a certificate in that class, the rest of the family disappeared from our periphery and all our attention was centered around this connection. We talked about the books that she assigns that I had read, the other classes I took that her school offers, and the overall effect of the IB program.

She was very interested in how my English teacher guided us through the curriculum, and strategies she used to engage her students. Since Mrs. Enochs was one of my favorite teachers, and I often think about the effect her class has had on me, I obviously had a lot to say. Verbalizing my experience in IB helped to shed more light on the incredible program it is. I explained to Celeste the four-part nature of the English department wherein each year would rely on concepts and terms that were expected to have been mastered the year before, and how there was amazing communication (or at least it seemed that way to me) between the instructors of each year. By senior year, I told her, we were able to dissect a page of narrative, rendering it nothing more than blocks of figurative language, themes, imagery, and a touch of authorial intent.

At many points of our conversation about the nature of IB, the Theory of Knowledge class was brought up. This was because we both are aware that this is really the cornerstone of the curriculum. It was then that I realized that what sets IB apart from all other types of secondary education, is its focus on meta-cognition. Instead of feeding the students information to the point where they could recite it to meet standards, IB really instills the value of knowing HOW to learn, and HOW we know what we know! These thought processes are what I will always have with me. This motivation to dig deeper and question everything is what I see as the mark of a true IB student.

The true success of International Baccalaureate is just that: it is international. There are other students being introduced to the joys of learning, and are being granted with the invaluable to synthesize information. As I said, this realization came to me during that awesome conversation with my distant cousin high up in the mountains of the Philippines. Thank you IB!

Unexpected Metamorphosis

Written by Ms. Berman
Dedicated to the c/o 2014

It is widely known that if there is a loss or change in the personal life of a teenager, a resilient young adult will undergo a paradigm shift and alter his/her behavior in order to compensate for this alternation.  But what happens when that change occurs in a school setting, and it impacts an entire group of students, rather than a specific individual?  This question can be analyzed upon my return to SDHS after a six week hiatus, and the results are quite remarkable.

My sophomores in Honors Chemistry, commonly called “the little kids,” began the first week or two of my absence expressing varied emotions, most of which mimicked panic.  Finals were rapidly approaching, semester grades were on the line, and there was a series of substitute teachers coming in to temporarily fill my position.  Every measure possible was taken to offer the students reassurance that things would work out, but with the competitive college application process on the horizon, self-assuredness is not easily maintained.  In addition, Chemistry is a difficult course to grasp conceptually and can rarely be self-taught. 

My peer tutors, known as Science Scholars, offered their support during this tumultuous time, as did their Honors English teacher who gave up instructional minutes during her class to allow for Chemistry tutorials.  This is one of the beauties of having dedicated colleagues working together in a small learning community.   The more important message gleamed, however, is that my sophomores gradually learned to become more self-directed, more assertive, and more willing to have faith that their choices would lead them to the desired results.  I don’t believe, for most of them, that any of this occurred on a conscious level.   I do know, however, that this transformation did occur because upon my return, they were not the same students.

My sophomores have collectively, in terms of sophistication, matured into juniors.  They no longer have the same attitude typical of a group of underclassmen.  There is an unspoken level of maturity that transcends throughout the classroom.   They can form lab groups in a matter of seconds, gather supplies, and get themselves on task.  They know how to ask probing questions, and even if they are too shy to ask in front of the class, they know how to contact me to get the assistance that they need.  They have developed a newfound level of patience and trust with respect to me, as they now understand that I always have their best interest at heart.  They are no longer “the little kids,” and I now look forward to more effective classroom discussions, laboratory collaboration, and test preparation with my students as a result of this unexpected metamorphosis.

A New Beginning

Written by Ms. Berman

Sitting at Islands Restaurant, on Friday the 13th, I was trying to absorb the upcoming teaching plan that Dr. Ankeney had laid out before me. "So Kelli Connaughton can take your IB Bio class and Carla Valdez will take over Marine Science. This will allow you to focus on your Honors Chemistry students upon your return."  Being that we were discussing other aspects of the Science Department, the students, and general school issues as well, I didn't have time to fully process this information until I got home.

I went into my office and sat staring at my computer screen. I wanted to bring up my IB Biology class roster, but couldn't bear to do so.  Although I would still be posting grades for the remainder of the semester, these students were no longer mine.

Instead of the icon for school attendance, I randomly clicked on The Common Application Online icon.  My list of seniors, for whom I had written college letters of recommendation, appeared, all with the word submitted next to their names.  Checklist completed!  There is this section on the teacher letter of recommendation form in which the instructor rates the student on 15 categories, with options such as average, above average, top ten percent, top five percent and "one of the top few I've encountered."  The highest assessment, "top few I've encountered," most of us educators rarely mark, or we will lose our credibility with the Admission's reps.

Just as a particular student may be "one of the top few I've encountered," on rare occasions a class will also warrant such a rating.  This is not to denounce the individuals whom I have taught in previous years, but rather to acknowledge that sometimes there is a magical combination of students who are all focused, thoughtful, collaborative, intelligent, and simply a pleasure to teach.  I was blessed with such a group of 41 students this past fall in IB Biology.

I am acutely aware that my medical leave has inconvenienced many people.  Decisions must be made that are in the best interest of the students.  And Dr. Ankeney is rightfully trying to create a schedule that will lighten my work load so that I can focus on the students who have been most impacted by my absence.  In addition, Mrs. C. is a stellar teacher who will take on the class with the energy and enthusiasm in which the students deserve.  Every justification validates this transition.

But what I am grappling with is that students are not merely a list of ID numbers.  Each one has their own story.  Some were new to me this year and I hadn't even had the chance to get to know them.  But for the ones whom I had, it was never about the Biology for them, but about my role in validating their self-worth.  I am thinking about the ones who had been told that they were not college material, or whose parents were unemployed and they knew I would find a way to discretely spot them cash for a school event, or the students who feared they couldn't handle the demands of the full IB Diploma program and trusted me to break that news to their parents.  This is what I am leaving behind.  This is what makes it so painful.  And yet I am the adult here.  I am the one expected to model adaptive behavior.  It is my duty to make my exodus with gratitude for the time we did spend together, as well as provide a genuine welcome to their new teacher and mentor.  After all, I am the one who recruited Mrs. C. to SDHS.  I should be proud to afford her the opportunity to work with these once in a lifetime students, and they with her.

I glanced back at my Common Application roster.  I reflected upon how once that letter is submitted, my professional relationship with the student begins to shift.  In many ways, it is liberating, as the element of academics is removed from the equation.  I typically sigh with relief as I close their file of transcripts, essays, and resumes, and transition to mentoring them as needed.  Perhaps this is the philosophy that I need to adopt with my Biology students at this time... It is not really good-bye after all... It is more like a leave-taking.  Although I won't be the IB Biology teacher on record, I will still be teaching.  For Mrs. C. and I don't work in a vacuum, but as a team, and will continue to do so.  Our collective brainstorming and energy always has, and always will, center upon the needs of the students.  I will support the students by hosting tutorials in order to prepare them for the quizzes and exams.  I will assist them with their upcoming college applications.  I will continue to talk to them about "life skills."

Just as I have been a mentor to over thousands of students throughout the years, I have been fortunate to have received professional support and guidance from my superiors as well, in this case, Dr. Ankeney.  Once I allowed myself to reflect upon this teaching plan from a renewed perspective, I realized that it was in best interest of everyone involved.  This is not the end of my teaching career.  It is a new beginning.

Honors Chemistry Question Site

Hello Honors Chemistry Students:

Being that not all students use the Science Scholars Facebook site , texting, nor have they joined the Science Scholars website, I have chosen to use this venue as a threaded forum for this class.

Please post questions and concerns regarding Honors Chemistry on this site, rather than texing or emailing me.  I am striving for efficient and effective communication with all of you.

I apologize if I don't respond to every email and text of support.  I enjoy hearing from you and look forward to my return in a few weeks.

Ms. Berman

Everyone has an Opinion

Written by Ms. Berman

Dedicated to all of my SDHS students

"Have you tried acupuncture?"

"You shouldn't be eating XYZ..."

"Your brother can get you an appointment with the top neurologist in LA."

"You should take off the rest of the school year."

Though well-intended, these words come at me like porcupine quills as I am trying to decipher the recommendations the professionals are providing me.  As I step outside myself, for a snippet in time, I realize that my life is momentarily not so different from that of some of my students.  Suddenly almost everyone has an opinion  about what I should and shouldn't be doing.  I know that these suggestions stem from their love and concern for my well-being, and yet it is not my responsibility to please others.  Sometimes in our attempts to calm and satisfy those around us, we drain ourselves of the energy required for our wellness.

The human body is a real life application (RLA) of Le Chatelier's Principle.  When equilibrium has been displaced, it must work diligently to restore balance.  At times, medical intervention is needed to assist in this restoration.  The teenage brain, however, is also an RLA of this principle.  It is taxed on a daily basis as equilibrium is shifted for a myriad of reasons and a young adult must utilize energy until the body has equilibrated.  Being surrounded with positive people who provide a calming influence will enhance this process.  Associating with critical, impatient, and demanding people can impede it.

If it is a challenge for me, a strong-willed, established adult, to remind my loved ones that I must pave my own way, I can only imagine the obstacles that some teens face.  This post does not devalue the immense support that I receive from many wonderful people on a daily basis.  Support being the key word here.  It is merely a reminder to all of us, young or old, that even during difficult times we should be collecting data and having faith in our own hypothesis.  This is not only what we have been trained to do, but it was what we were born to do... as the scientific method is within all of us.  Sometimes we might just need a little space in order to recognize it.

'Tis the Season

Written by Ms. Berman
Inspired by my co-teacher, Ms. Kelli Connaughton

Dedicated to my IB Biology Students

You only have to do two of the three free response questions, I told my IB Biology students as they were starting their test last Friday.  We had just finished a fast paced tutorial and I was excited because I knew that they were ready for the exam.  “Can we do the third one for extra credit?” a high achieving student asked.  Shocker!  I should have seen that one coming, I thought.  An incredibly polite and hard working group of students, I wanted to say yes, but wasn’t sure if I was letting down my guard too early in the semester.  I turned to my co-teacher, who was on her prep period working at the computer, with a questioning look, and she gave me the perfect answer, “’tis the season.” 

Okay, so here’s the thing.  Can a teacher simultaneously cut her students some slack and yet push them to do a substantial amount of work for her class?  Students in this generation are under such incredible pressure, do they really need one more teacher threatening them with grades in order for them to succeed?  If I merely set the bar and define clear expectations, will my juniors keep up with the rigor, or will they push me for more opportunities for extra credit, cutting corners on assignments, asking to turn things in late?  These are questions that can’t be answered at this point in the school year as this is the first time that I have taught this course as an IB non-testing class, and have had the luxury to set my own pace.  This is the first time that I have had 41 students in a classroom with no discipline problems.  This is the first time that all of my students are motivated and I don’t have a single student failing at the 12-week grading period.   

So, juniors, formerly the sophomores who felt negatively perceived by the IS staff, you are the members of my experimental protocol.  My hypothesis is that given the proper data pool (i.e. a certain level of maturity on the part of the students), an IB science course can be taught in a less stern and rigid manner.  Students will maintain a sense of decorum, do the required assignments because it is the right thing to do, and successfully learn the curriculum.  In my analysis, I will address the fact that when a student asks if the non-required free response question could be used for extra credit, a progressive instructor should be thinking, “Isn’t it grand that my students know enough Biology to tackle that optional question?”

Attitude is like a Virus

Written by Ms. Berman

Attitude is like a virus.  Just as a virus cannot exist without hijacking a host cell and taking over its machinery, attitude cannot exist without entering a person’s mind and becoming a part of his or her thought processes.  Some viruses are innocuous and don’t have a significant impact on our immune system, just as some thoughts have little effect on our way of thinking.  In other cases, the effect can be more unhealthful and destructive. 

All of us hear negative messages spoken on a daily basis.  The decision we have to make is how to respond to such messages.  Useful questions to ask are “What are the odds that there is validity to this information?” and “How does this information benefit me and/or the people I care about?”  It is critical to take the emotion out of the intellectual processing of such situations in order to properly assess the value of the many incoming messages that are flung upon us each day.  We, as humans with the ability to reason, get to choose which statements we are willing to process and integrate as a part of our stream of consciousness (or subconscious mind).  In addition, we choose which messages we will reinforce by either repeating such messages to our peers or ignoring them.   The relatively recent emergence of the internet and smartphones has made it easier for “attitude networking” to occur.  Thus, a simple statement, initially based upon opinion, can quickly start to appear as a fact as it is transmitted through a network of people in a short period of time.  As humans, it is easy to forgo control over our cognitive processing center, and react on an emotional level to such statements as they typically elicit such a response. 

The old clichés “thick-skinned” and “let that roll off your back” are applicable to the concept of attitudinal responses.  Those who tend to be less reactive to the attitude networking that typically occurs in any group environment, will usually end up with fewer negative messages cluttering their brain.  This requires filtering fact from fiction, but enhances autonomy and self-empowerment when it comes to decision-making down the road.  There are enough things in life that are beyond our control.  Attitude, however, is within our control and drives everything that we do in life.  In fact, self-esteem and attitude have been proven to be more essential than raw intelligence when evaluating whether an individual will achieve success, happiness, and contentment in life.  At the very least, if we listen with discretion and take control over what we are willing to internalize, then we can aim to develop more positive thought processes.  Over time, the mind will be freed up of the influx of negative messages, just as the aim for a healthy body is to be virus-free.

Labels

Written by Rebecca Chhay

In Theory of Knowledge last year, we took a field trip to see the latest movie about education, Waiting for Superman. In the film, there was an animated clip of a factory that illustrated the track system in education. In the track system, students are sorted off into tracks based on their abilities.

I’ve been in a track system before. I didn’t realize it was called that, but at Roosevelt that was what we had. Two completely different sets of teachers separated the tracks, and it didn’t matter if you were stellar in one subject but you couldn’t deal with another; you were generally put (or later transferred) into the easiest track possible.

We were taught to take pride in our tracks, in the labels the administration stuck on us. In seventh grade, I was part of “Adventure 7”, which sounds nice at first but that effect diminishes after you realize it’s a form of segregation. It didn’t stop there. In our tracks, we had our sub-tracks. For Adventure 7, that meant we GATE students were separated from the seminar students.

Occasionally, when a seminar student was absent, and he or she took a make-up a test in my class, I would hear the inevitable remark about how much “crazier” and remarkably “different” my class was (as I sat next to the empty table in one of my classes, and thus was the recipient of all comments). 

The comments puzzled me for a great deal of time.  I didn't understand as to why there would be such a difference.  We had the same teachers, and the seminar students were just as ethnically diverse, etc. And in fact, I would probably still be puzzled if my 8th grade history teacher didn't insist on switching me to the seminar class even though I didn't have the proper Raven test score for it. The only noticeable difference I could discern after the switch was the fact that these seminar kids knew that the expectation, given their shiny “seminar” label, was that they were going to do all the work and be geniuses. Maybe not everyone in there was a genius, but each student definitely did all the work. 

Is the power of labels really so great?

In high school, we don’t have “Adventure 7”, “GATE”, or “seminar”. Instead, at San Diego High, I am reduced to the label of an “I.S. student”. I don’t deny its accuracy, but I protest at the one-label-fits-over 500 idea.

I have a background, a future, and aspirations. I am so much more than an I.S. student; so much more than a label.

Walls

Written by Ms. Berman

I am sitting on the floor of a dirty hallway, alongside my students who are lined up against the walls of the building, engaged in their studies.  I allowed for differentiated learning today, and this group is reviewing while the other half of the class is taking a test.  I notice Z. successfully tutoring her friends and make a mental note to later ask her to become a Science Scholar.  I slide over to another group of students who don’t openly admit that they are lost, but I can tell that they need assistance.  I think about the fact that I am sitting on the floor, which is odd for a woman my age, but if I try to kneel or stand, I will lose this teachable moment.  And I am not willing to do that. 

I reflect upon the events of the previous day.  In preparation for the upcoming Chemistry exam, I had decided to schedule an after school tutorial.  Immediately after school, when only a few students showed up for the study session, I wasn’t sure if it had been worth it.  Thirty minutes into the review, a room filled with students, when N. said, “My brain just got rocked,” I knew that it was.  As educators, we call these “aha” moments.  A switch is flipped, and all of a sudden a concept makes sense.  This is especially pertinent in a Chemistry course in which there is a processing period for most people to fully comprehend the material.  Every time I conduct a successful tutorial, it is a poignant reminder of how important these small group connections are for true teaching to occur. 

After an hour and a half of tutoring, I had to ask the students to leave my classroom so I could rush off to the Board of Education to take care of some HR paperwork.  Upon my leaving the district building, I noticed several news cameras.  “A lot of media at Board of Ed,” I texted Dr. Ankeney.

“Barnett’s budget plan discussed at tonight’s mtg,” he responded. 

Oh, yes, of course.  “Doom and gloom… think I will pass,” I sent back to him as I started my car.  I couldn’t help but think about the contrast between the ominous news being discussed inside the walls of the Board of Education and the positive energy that I had just experienced within the walls of my own classroom. 

So I guess that gives this blog post a theme… walls.  As teachers in today’s society, we have to deal with walls every day.  Breaking down walls in order to reach our students at large while building up walls to shield ourselves from the negative media.  We must work at holding onto the positive energy produced within the walls of our own classroom and, at times, help our students create artificial walls that they can use to protect themselves during turbulent times.  And sometimes we might find ourselves randomly sitting against walls, in an effort to connect with that one student who hasn’t spoken to us all school year.

Breaking Away Together

Written by Ms. Berman

Dedicated to the students and families of the Senior class of 2012

“My mother says I am the devil child,” an IS Senior recently said to me.  “Ask her to call me and I will tell her stories about some truly bad kids,” I responded in a semi-sarcastic tone.  This flippant comment from my discouraged student, however, continued to resonate with me long after he had left the room.  I find myself wondering why we, as a society, are so set upon recognizing birthdays,  graduations, communions, weddings and so forth, and yet we do little to recognize and prepare both young adults and their families for the one of the biggest life transitions of all: breaking away.  This processes spans over an entire year, as the student begins applying to, planning for, and ultimately going off to college.

Perhaps we underestimate the emotional drain that the application process places on the student, and all of the close family members involved.  When my own children were going through this process, my husband philosophized that it’s an evolutionary necessity for children to get combative enough that we actually want them to move out.  Otherwise, he contended, how would we ever let our little darlings go?  Thus, as a child’s yearning for greater independence and control escalate, so do the family arguments based around the child’s ever changing wants and needs.  This signals that the process of breaking away has begun.

I hear the complaints from both the student and parental points of view.  Parents will contact me behind their child’s back (which I always tell them may backfire and encourage honesty when seeking my input), saying that their child has suddenly turned secretive and defiant.  The student doesn’t want to listen to the parent’s advice regarding college choices, nor topics for his/her personal statement.  A student’s typical rebuttal: “That’s what AVID is for.“   As the parent pushes harder to stay involved in the decision-making process, the student often resists even more. 

The student from the same family may come to me, complaining that all of a sudden new restrictions are being placed upon him/her, such as an earlier curfew or fewer opportunities to use the family car.  “It’s often about control,” I try to explain.  “As you withdraw from your parents, you create suspicion, and it is a normal response for them to try to keep better tabs on you.  Share your life with them,” I suggest.  “Be the one to initiate doing the things that you used to love doing together.  When is the last time that you actually went out and had fun without talking about IB exams, college applications, or career choices?”  Most students can’t remember.

No one is at fault for this dilemma.  Trying to evaluate the situation from the other person’s point of view and realizing that this is difficult for all the parties involved can sometimes lead to a little more patience.  Knowing that most families go through some type of adjustment during this period of time, and merely acknowledging that this is one of life’s most stressful transitions, can help the family members be less reactive to each comment and gesture as they arise.  It does not have to be a tumultuous time for both the student and the parents.  Focusing upon strategies that will create more successful ways to “break-away together” can make all the difference.

The Art of Advocacy

Written by Ms. Berman

Dedicated to the class of 2014

For the past two days, the low scores on the latest Honors Chemistry quiz have been concerning me.  It is the same quiz that I give every year at this point in the semester, my students are top notch, and yet the failure rate was unexpectedly high.  These are the moments I envy the teacher who can accept the situation as status quo, walk to her car at 2:30 pm, and leave the work day behind her.  I cannot. 

Today I prepped my Science Scholars for their after school tutorial, making sure that the focus would be upon achievement.  My students need to know that they still have multiple opportunities to recoup their grades.  I can’t imagine what it feels like to live in this competitive pre-college environment, and I will go to great lengths to promote success in my class.  Where I stop, however, is that I don’t “gift” grades; students must rise to my standards and earn them.

One problem with our educational system, where it stands at the moment, is that open communication is discouraged.  Recently my students were disappointed because I didn’t go over the homework assignments during class (due to time constraints) and yet no one asked if I could make an answer key available.  I have a Science Scholars website to assist them in any way that will enhance their understanding.  Scanning the answer keys and posting them online is an easy solution to this dilemma.  And yet, not one of my students asked me if it could be done.  Lectures are posted online.  I told them old quizzes could be posted online.  Why would I withhold homework answer keys if it would increase student success?

This leads to another key element that is lacking in most classrooms, apparently in mine, and that is the element of student-teacher trust.  When a student is in elementary school, he/she knows that the teacher can be counted upon for comfort and support.  Somehow that thread of trust is squashed in the high school years, and teachers and students are viewed on opposite teams.  This is damaging in a class such as Honors Chemistry, when the process of accessing the information is unique for each person, and communication is critical.  Obviously, if a group of students put any teacher on the defensive, they will be shut down, and their needs will not be met.  Advocacy, however, is an imperative component of education. A student should have the ability to politely state his/her needs to a teacher who is striving to enhance student success.  Unfortunately this is not usually the case. 

Too many students in this era are withdrawn and in fear of repercussions.  They are not in the habit of their ideas having validity.  Allowing for student input in the teaching process does not undermine the authority of the instructor, but empowers the students to take part in their own learning.  When students identify ways in which they will be more successful in a class, they are developing  life skills that will carry them through college.  Taking the next step, and learning the art of advocacy, is one of the most important lessons a person can learn in high school.  Therefore, students, I now challenge you to think about how you best learn, seek the help you need, politely share your ideas, and work with me to achieve a memorable and successful year in Honors Chemistry.  For, regardless of what you may think, I will not accept this as status quo.  Although it sounds great in theory, I will not leave my work behind at 2:30 pm, until I am certain that you all have mastered the content of this course.

MVPs

Inspired by my Marine Biology students, MVP Arts
Dedicated to all of my students facing academic challenges; you're all MVPs!!

Okay, MVP’s, we are starting on a journey.  I listened to each of your concerns and will address them throughout the school year.  Now we need to focus on a new topic.  Learning.  Once you walk into my classroom, learning is the main thing.  That does not mean you will be sitting in your seats for 90 minutes listening to me speak nor reading from a textbook.  You will be a part of the teaching and learning process, each and every day.  We will not be focusing upon grades because, in my class, I insist that your scores will be good.  You will work, you will learn.  We will learn together. 

Marine Science is a course of discovery.  Like the hidden gems of the sea that take effort to uncover, so does a person’s talents in the field of science.  In order to fully comprehend the remarkable secrets of the ocean and its surrounding environment, basic concepts in Biology and Chemistry must be attained.  Therefore, we have our work cut out for us, already six weeks into the semester, and some catching up to do.  Consider it a challenge.  I am like your coach, the one who will push you beyond the limits you knew you could achieve.  However, this is important work.  For it is only the educated who will bring positive changes to our society, and save the beautiful things we all enjoy, such as the seacoast, coral reefs, and exotic fish.

Just as with a coach, you will not always like what I have to say, but you will respect it.  Just as with sports, sometimes you will grow weary and want to stop, but you will keep trying.   And sometimes things may not seem fair, but you will trust that I am making the best possible judgment in each situation.  This is our classroom code of conduct. 

Learning, true learning, is not easy.  It requires questioning, reasoning, problem solving, and compromise.  But in the end, succeeding in a rigorous science class will be one of the most satisfying experiences of your high school career.  More important, however, once you have mastered all that I have taught you in this course, you will have rightfully earned your title of MVP, which, in this case, does not stand for most valuable player, but for most valuable person.  And that is precisely what each of you are.

ISAmbassadors: Initiators of Change

An IS parent approached me at Open House and remarked that this is the worst he has ever seen the state of public education.  As I was about to readily agree, I looked over at my students gathered by the IS tree.  Many were just hanging out with their friends, but a few were waiting for me to collect their proceeds from the Pancake Breakfast ticket sales.  "No," I responded, to the surprise of both of us.  "This is the best that it has ever been.  "In the case of my students," I elaborated, "large class sizes, limited supplies, and the economic strife in their personal lives has led them to take action.  This has all manifested in a program called IS Ambassadors."

I have been reflecting upon this conversation for a week now, and decided to share it with my students at our club meeting today.  "Look at the number of people in this room!" I exclaimed.  "And the wait list is growing daily.  Everyone wants to be a part of this experience.  Our current budget stands at $5,643.17.  That will afford our students the opportunity to do things they never thought possible, such as going on a college tour.  This is all due to your hard work; you made it happen."  The students broke out into applause. 

The School of International Studies is a microcosm of society at large.  When a group of people become dissatisfied and/or frustrated about something that really matters to them, they can become discouraged and apathetic or they can be the initiators of change.  One reason ISA has evolved at a logarithmic pace is because students are yearning for outlets for dealing with the multiple forms of deprivation and inequities they witness on a daily basis.  Although most students are not looking at the big picture right now, I can see it.  Gen Y-Not? will be better off for having experienced these tumultuous times and attempting to drive these social changes within our club, our school, and our community.  These students will not be complacent in their future careers and endeavors.  They will know how to advocate for themselves.  They will know how to define their goals, mobilize quickly and work as a team to achieve arduous tasks.  They will be comfortable with spontaneity, adversity, and diversity. 

As I am writing this, I glance at the bookcase in my office and notice a binder entitled "Life Skills Training: High School Teacher's Manual."  I can't envision a program in the country that empowers students to identity their needs and collectively meet them in a more positive manner than this student-designed program called ISA.  Therefore, I view this time as the height of my career as an educator, witnessing major shifts in public education which are catalyzing  students to take ownership over their present and future.  Indeed, in many ways, things have never been better.

The Roles We Play

Written by Ms. Berman

Rules.  They are a valuable component of any society.  They help us define our roles, keep us safe, and set boundaries.  Roles can be useful when one is in need of a purpose.  But what happens when the roles defined for us don't coincide with the person whom we really are?  Should we "fake" the role in which people expect us to play, to make them feel more comfortable with us, or should we be ourselves (within reason) and allow people to learn that it is okay to be atypical?

This is a question in which I grapple with every year at this time in the semester.  Teachers are told to "never smile before Thanksgiving."  Allowing students to see our more personable side will diminish their respect for us, and potentially erode our class control.  This theory of classroom management has been engrained in me for over twenty years of teaching.  The reality, however, is that my greatest success stories, my "little miracles" as one student has coined them, have never arisen through intimidation, but through encouragement via the teacher-student connection.  Creating an environment in which students feel comfortable taking risks, asking questions, and seeking help is not in alignment with the role of the foreboding teacher.  It is not only unnatural, but it is dishonest, as it is not me, and the students will soon come to realize this.

Open House was difficult tonight, as I could see parental apprehension when I stated that I don't believe in loading on the homework.  The look of concern was clear, as parents want assurance that their children will receive a top notch education.  I am sensitive to their concerns, but teaching my students how to create balance in their lives is a priority for me.  I am continually striving to create meaningful work, and focusing upon quality over quantity.  As long as I see my students thrive in the learning process, I will continue to limit the amount of homework that I assign.  Yet again, I am not playing the role in which I am expected to play, and I know that it makes some people uncomfortable.  If I weren't a teacher with whom students share some of their innermost feelings, I may have a different approach or teaching style.

This school year I have decided to start off the semester playing the role of myself.  My students will see that I have a sense of humor and that I believe in the importance of having fun.  I don't think that I am better than they are, and won't pretend that I am.  I love my career, and the students are the driving force of my enthusiasm.  My classes are based upon mutual respect.  My Science Scholars are the anchor of my success as an educator, and I give them credit for all that they do.  I sometimes make mistakes, and it is okay if my students do, too.  This year I will break the teacher covenant and will be smiling long before Thanksgiving.

The Privileged Mind

Inspired by Nidia Davenport
Dedicated to all IS and MVP Arts Students 

It is mid-August… the time in which most dedicated teachers begin to reflect and dream.  I have been an educator since 1987, have had minimal problems with classroom management since my first day of teaching, and yet I occasionally have the typical anxiety dreams… students out of control in my classroom.  It always strikes me as odd when I awaken, because discipline is not an area in which I ever plan for or concern myself with.  And yet, being that Honors Chemistry and IB Biology tend to be courses that many students fear taking, I know subconsciously that unknown challenges await me… challenges primarily focused upon building student confidence that anyone can indeed tackle the rigor of my science classes, regardless of their previous educational and/or social experiences.

Today as I was driving home from a Big Bear retreat, I reflected upon a question that had been posed to me by a bright young lady of the same age as my upcoming students:  “I have thought about being a teacher,” she had said, “but I wouldn’t want to have to teach me.  How do you handle the kids with an attitude?” 

“I don’t have students with an attitude,” I initially responded.  “I shut them down before they get to that point.”  But then I took a moment to think back to last year, to the brief altercations that could have escalated between specific students and me.  “Well, you know, H,” I told her, “you don’t get an attitude unless something is really bothering you.  The trick, as a teacher, is to get to the root of the problem.  It’s all about showing the student a little respect.”

I then told her about R, and how she had started to talk back to me last fall.  I explained how I carefully guided her into my hallway without drawing the students’ attention to the situation, and then cut to the chase.  It quickly became apparent to me that R didn’t feel respected nor intelligent in my Honors Chemistry class, and wasn’t sure how she was going to grasp the overwhelming amount of material being presented in the course.  Previous experiences freshman year (and probably prior to that year) had tainted her feelings about education, and more important, about herself.  I scheduled a lunchtime tutorial with R for the following day, in which she made huge strides during a short period of time.  Reassurance.  So little effort made such a huge impact, and from that day forward R worked toward becoming a stellar Chemistry student.  It was easy for R academically because she had a privileged mind and comprehending the difficult material came more naturally than she had expected.  Comprehending her feelings about herself, the course, and me were not so simple to attain. 

So when I am asked if students “give me an attitude,” I would have to say no.  I work at being proactive and recognizing that self-expression exists for a reason.  It is not necessarily a bad thing.  It is rarely personal and, even if it is, my job is to disseminate information, which sometimes requires cutting through some barriers.  And thus my anxiety dreams may also be a reflection of the students who have their own feelings to deal with at this time of the school year.  My future students are now facing the fact that the easy-going days of summer are about to come to a close.  Homework will be starting up again, as will projects and exams.  Some students may be feeling uneasy or a bit out of control as they don’t know exactly what to expect from each of their future teachers.

The reality, however, is that all of my students come to me with privileged minds, they just have to learn how to best work with them.  With clearcut expectations and the amazingly dedicated Science Scholars at IS, all students have the ability to succeed in my classes.  Thus, the true challenge is not in the teaching, nor in the disciplining of unruly students, it is in convincing the struggling students that they are worthy of learning.  And that daunting task as an educator is justification for anxiety dreams, even for the most seasoned of teachers.  For it is the most driven of teachers who know just what is up ahead and how important it will be to access all of the privileged minds that will be brought before him/her.

What's the Point?

Written by Ms. Berman
Dedicated to my brother, Michael, for keeping the memories alive

“Ms. Berman, sometimes I wonder, what’s the point of life?  I am not depressed or anything; I'm really just trying to figure it all out.  Right now it seems as if all we do is work hard in high school so we can get into an amazing college.  But then we will have to work hard in college in order to get into grad school, and then after that, we will be working our butts off to earn a living (or so we are told).” 

Knowing that I owe this student a satisfactory explanation, and he is a right-brained thinker, I decided to frame my response as an analogy:  If we were to compare a person’s life to a two hour movie, I started to explain, the singular moments could be thought of as the snapshots within that movie.  Although the bigger events within the life of a teenager, planning for college, career, and possibly later, a family, are all important, they are the infrastructure which affords a person the opportunities to have the best case scenario of snapshots throughout his/her developmental young adult and later years.

How do we know when we have experienced a meaningful/successful/positive snapshot?  Let me begin by addressing deprivation and disappointment.  We, as humans, go to great lengths to avoid both of these situations for ourselves and for our loved ones.  If you think about it, however, when has food tasted better than ever?  Often when eaten after too many hours of going without.  When does success feel the most rewarding?  Often after repeated failures were experienced prior to achieving such success. The point being that it is only the contrast of the positive and negative experiences in our lives that allow us to recognize the beauty of the good.  Rather than feeling shame for our negatives, it would be better to view them as a baseline of comparison by which we learn to appreciate all that is exemplary around us.

In reference to the snapshots of life, I am talking about the short-lived moments, or even a period of days, in which our actions, or those of another person’s, have a subtle, but profound impact on our personal happiness and well-being.  These snapshots occur every day and are unique to each of us, as our personalities guide us in our human gestures.  As a young child my Grandma told me: “You don’t know the number of people whom you will affect on this earth.  Be kind to everyone, for the person who is the least kind to you, is probably in the most pain.”  And thus the recognition of snaphots began in my life, following the wisdom and faith of this half blind woman who could still “see” twice as much as the rest of us.  It is typically best if societal snapshots, in which we are primarily giving to others, are balanced with personal snapshots, in which we are in the giving/receiving mode.  For me, my societal gestures vary but are usually based upon listening to a stranger telling me their “life story.”  My family and closest friends tease me that I have a “tell me everything” sticker on my forehead, and perhaps I do.  None-the-less, I tend to bring out the more personal side in people, as the thing that they crave most is to be listened to and validated.  

                My most significant personal snapshots, however, revolve around my family and close friends.  I have seen too many friendships and families torn apart by internal squabbles over money, control, jealousy, etc. and I avoid letting those issues destroy my relationships.  So whether it be participating in the July 4^th Fun Run with my 24 year-old daughter, discussing philosophy with my son, taking the dog for a walk with my husband of almost 30 years, planning a trip to a winery to celebrate my younger daughter’s 21^st, or enjoying a day at the beach with my girlfriends, I cherish the moments that I spend with the most precious people in my life.  These personal snapshots cannot be bought for any amount of money, nor are they dependent upon what college I graduated from.  These are the snippets of life that matter the most to me, as they bring me the deepest kind of joy and satisfaction. 

                It is important to note that no matter where you are within the context of your movie, know that you are making a difference along the way, even when you don’t think that you are.  So continue planning the script for your movie, but be sure to savor those shapshots.  These sacred moments are what give most of us our sustenance.  Remember life is about the sharing of ourselves with everyone with whom we come in contact, in order to bring a collective support system to our society at large.   And that, my student, is the point!