Hot Mess

Sleep is such a luxury here, she should have just been happy I woke up 10 minutes early to shower yesterday morning. But since I'm her "girlfriend," Jaquavia did what any good girlfriend would do and gave me some constructive criticism about the downward spiral of my appearance from morning to afternoon bell. The kids were working silently on their daily "Check Your Understanding" when Jaquavia politely raised her hand and directed me to come closer. She pulled me down close to her desk and whispered, "Ms. Miller, you probably shouldn't wear your hair in a ponytail anymore...it doesn't look so good." Now, my classroom, packed with 30 sweaty people, deodorant failing fast, does not have a working air conditioner. So even if I could muster the energy required to fix my hair on 4 hours of sleep, ocean breeze and neck sweat would ruin all efforts and my frizzy, damp Amazon hair would be pulled back before the 8am bell. So I shook my head, told Jaquavia I appreciated her honesty and that I would take her heartfelt fashion advice into consideration.. but to be honest, taming my hair is the least of my concerns right now.

I hear the learning curve is steep for new teachers and I'm choosing to cling to that truth for dear life, because I have a long way to go. I'm supposed to teach these giant "objectives"(teacher lingo for 'skills students need to know') in 45 minutes time, which must include at least 25 minutes of hands-on practice with the material and a daily assessment and I am having the hardest time getting these kids to comprehend the week's worth of info I'm throwing at them every morning. I'm running around the room like a crazy person, shouting out percent to fraction conversions, sweating, barking at them to write this and write that because the inconsistency between time needed and time actually given makes me a Loony Toon. It's manic. "A hot mess," as Elaysia so bluntly noted on her in-class assignment today. The kiddies think it's great; anticipating the next crazy thing Ms. Miller will say or do has become decidedly more interesting than the day's math objective--and that became blatantly obvious when I graded their "Check Your Understanding" worksheets after class this morning. Oh I checked their understanding...they didn't understand. The students love me as their entertainment, but as their teacher, I'm a hot mess.

But I think I've decided on my first step to improvement, and that is to face my fear and ask our school director to come and observe me in action. There are hoards of important people, with their clipboards and checklists in-hand, coming in and out of my room all day to critique my teaching skills (or lack thereof), so it's not the being watched that freaks me out. It is the act of approaching the most important person at my school site and admitting to her that I'm floundering; it's a cry for help that I never thought I would have to make. I need her to see the impossibility of the situation, I need her to see that the gap in learning is too wide and too deep to solve in 45 minute increments 4 days a week. I mean, these 7th graders need to learn their multiplication tables for Christ's sake; reducing fractions and long division are skills these students have only mastered in my dreams. I need her to tell me how to manage the gap and manage my time to sufficiently teach these kids, my kids, enough material to, in good conscience, move them onto the next grade. Tiffany (the school director) is one intimidating diva, but I think at this point it's best to just skip all the bureaucracy and hit up the big dog. I'll let you know how it goes.

Total Hours Slept Since Monday: 12
...............I know, right?
And thanks for all of the comments and messages about the blog. I'm glad you're enjoying it and I love hearing from you so keep 'em comin'. Miss you.