Purple Extra Fine Papermate Liquid Flair pens appear to be disappearing from the marketplace.
I finally purchased some liquid flairs …
I still think Pilot G2s (the .05 ones) are better.
English and journalism teacher. Reader. Writer. Photographer. Wife. Music-lover. Doggy momma.
I’m preparing to meet with some new teachers in my department, and I just came across this amazing resource from @itsssnix, which I highly recommend and will be utilizing myself, but that’s another post for another day.
Her post and my upcoming meeting prompted me to think about what I should say to my colleagues tomorrow. One is a first-year teacher, and two are second-year teachers. I’m not that much more experienced than them, but I feel like year three, which I just completed, is where a teacher really finds the roots of their style. Where things really start to solidify and stick and grow.
My first semester as a teacher was just survival. My second was experimental. I tried all kinds of strategies and procedures and techniques.
My first semester as a second-year teacher was better, but I didn’t think I needed to be as strict about procedures and rules as Past Me and told Future Me to be. And I was wrong.
But last year. Last year I finally got it. I was firm, but friendly. I had high expectations and welcomed all my students to reach them. It wasn’t a perfect year by any stretch, but the experience helped with the day-to-day management, and collaboration helped refine the teaching practices. And I still experimented with stuff, because that’s what teachers do.
So tomorrow, when I meet with these teachers, my main advice will be two-fold: follow through and try everything.
Follow through with all instructions for behavior and expectations. And don’t say anything you will not actually follow.
Try every kind of vocabulary activity, reading strategy, writing process you can find. Just see what works for you and for your students.
You’re going to have a very long mental list of all the things you are doing wrong (according to you) and all the things you want to start doing. And since that list will be so long, you will have to prioritize. And you’ll check things off this year, and then a few more things off next year, and so on. Don’t burn yourself out trying to get everything perfect this year. No year is ever perfect.
Teaching can be all-consuming during those first two years, and that is when anxiety can start (for me it had never been a problem until that first year) or peak (for others already battling anxiety, it can get worse), and self-care is essential. You actually will have 15 minutes before bed to read. Make that time. Drink your tea. Or wine. I love wine. And beer. Mmmm beer.
Sorry, got distracted there.
Watch your favorite show. Hang out with your dog. Or that person you share a home with who may have forgotten your name since they never see you.
Make time for you. Don’t be a martyr. No one is still here because they go into their room with the Freedom Writers mentality. We’re here because we go in with realistic expectations of ourselves and we know that it’ll all get done eventually, or that June will come and even if it’s not done, it’s over. And if it wasn’t done by June, it probably wasn’t that important to begin with, and should probably be cut out next year.
You’ll make it. And so will your students.
Just follow through, and try everything.
Indians love fireworks.
We make millions selling illegal ones to white folks.
Well, not millions for each of us, but you know what I mean.
A working definition of tolerance: When Indians make money from white
folks celebrating their independence.
Ever have a bottle rocket fight? I’ve got a burn scar on my left thumb.
Reservation rumor: an M-80 firecracker was as powerful as a 1/4 stick
of dynamite. Wasn’t true, but we pretended it was true when we
threw them into ant piles.
White eggs come from white chickens; brown eggs come from
Have you ever hidden an egg in your home for the Easter hunt, and
then been unable to find it for days or even weeks afterward?
A few years ago, we hid an ostrich egg (an ostrich egg!) in our living
room and never found it. It still hasn’t gone bad enough to find it
by smell. Every so often, I look for it.
When I was a child, I cracked open a bright green painted egg
and discovered a chicken fetus inside.
My high school girlfriend raised chickens. “About every fifty eggs or so,”
she said, “you drop a fetus into the frying pan.”
Sunnyside up, with lots of Tabasco, and four triangles of buttered toast.
White Jesus comes from white people; brown Jesus comes from
Pine trees, pine trees, pine trees.
My family didn’t have indoor plumbing until I was seven years old.
We lived in an epic, and gorgeous, pine forest.
Therefore, pine tree = poverty.
Therefore, poverty = epic and gorgeous.
There is some sort of bad logic in this, but I don’t remember the name for it.
I am asked this question at least a dozen times every year: “Do Indians
That’s like asking: “Do Jewish people celebrate Oktoberfest?”
The answer is: “Yes, Indians celebrate Thanksgiving.”
I just emailed a Jewish friend to ask about her feelings on Oktoberfest,
and she wrote, “Never thought about it. No way I’d buy
a BMW, though.”
The best thing about humans: Our ability to forgive. The second
best thing: Grudges.
About 70% white meat and 30% dark, with canned cranberry sauce. And
no, I don’t care how good your homemade cranberry sauce is.
On a New Year’s Eve when I was five or six, my mother, drunk
for the very last time, punched an older Indian woman in the face.
My mother hates it when I write about this.
Once a friend told me, “I heard your mother singing in church today. It
sounded like the river at night.” A nine-year-old Indian boy said
that about my mother! Where is that Indian boy? Did the poet
in him survive?
I am vaguely Catholic, so for the rest of this poem I will fast.
My wife, two sons, and I celebrate the New Year by drinking root beer
floats. I hereby establish the root beer float as the official Native
American New Year’s Eve drink. It should be the only drink
allowed for Indians on New Year’s.
Ain’t gonna happen.
I want to combine Catholic Lent and the Jewish Day of Atonement,
and begin each year with six weeks of apologies.
Dear Ants that I slaughtered with M-80 fireworks, I am sorry for my rage.
Dear Chickens-to-Be that I dropped into frying pans, I am sorry for my hunger.
Dear Family Outhouse, I am sorry that I failed to recognize your primitive beauty.
Dear Enemies, real and imagined, I am sorry for my grudges.
Dear Mother, For having written so many poems and stories about you,
I am sorry.
Dear Universe, I am sorry for all the times that I believed myself to be
the sun around which all of these planets whirl.
"Happy Holidays!" by Sherman Alexie (via corrodedvessel)
It’s a special kind of love when the dog farts on your lap and then walks away in shame.
By age four, toddlers in low-income families hear 30 million fewer words than those in high-income families, according to researchers. As a result, these children tend to have smaller vocabularies and fall behind in reading. Special correspondent John Tulenko of Learning Matters reports on one program in Providence, Rhode Island, that gets low-income parents talking more to their toddlers.
This is so great and important! (I love vocab studies and initiatives).
The phrase “soft bigotry of low expectations” is inevitably associated with George W. Bush, who used it frequently. But whatever your politics, the idea has undeniable merit: If schools don’t expect much from their students, the students are not likely to accomplish much.
A new international study, set to be released Tuesday, argues that the United States has an expectation problem.
"This much is clear: American students from low-income backgrounds are more likely to struggle in school than low-income students in many other countries (as Table II.A in this report makes clear). And American principals are much more likely to describe their students as disadvantaged than principals in many other countries — including some countries that are significantly poorer than the United States. Neither fact qualifies as good news."
I disagree with the assumption that principals who perceive their students as poor have lower expectations of them. At least in my school, we are working on finding ways to make projects and just participation in school more equitable for our low income students, but we don’t have different expectations for them. We just want to make it easier for them to participate in a system that isn’t built for them. We do this by providing materials for everyday use as well as project materials if needed, or we just don’t assign projects that require a lot of extra materials. Our lunch distributors are lenient with the fruits and veggies and many kids get extra. And if a kid is hungry, many teachers have granola bars or something else in their room for those kids. But kids who are perceived as low income are not given different academic expectations.
What if those principals are instead claiming students are disadvantaged because compared to their peers they are coming in with fewer opportunities? And what if those principals as a result are motivated to find ways to provide those opportunities? Our principal bases her perception on free and reduced lunch qualifications, and on what she knows of our community.
Here’s another paragraph from the article:
The usual caveats about correlation and causation apply, though. It’s also possible that an outside factor is driving the results of the survey question. The United States, for example, has an extensive and high-profile program of subsidizing lunches for lower-income children. If that program were driving principals’ definition of socioeconomic disadvantage, and other countries did not have similar programs, it could explain why this country is an outlier in the survey. In that case, American principals may or may not have lower academic expectations of their students.
I guess I just think this article is misleading, and it has no information from any US principals commenting on their perspective.
"You don’t measure love in time. You measure love in transformation. Sometimes the longest connections yield very little growth, while the briefest of encounters change everything. The heart doesn’t wear a watch - it’s timeless. It doesn’t care how long you know someone. It doesn’t care if you had a 40 year anniversary if there is no juice in the connection. What the heart cares about is resonance. Resonance that opens it, resonance that enlivens it, resonance that calls it home. And when it finds it, the transformation begins…"
Jeff Brown (via cosmofilius)