Fail Again. Fail Better

The first quarter is over. Midterms are in and grades almost finalized. Gandalf’s shout to the balrog thunders through my head at inopportune moments. I have a whole slew of students whom I’ve managed to invest in their grade, if not world history as a subject (I want to teach English! English!), and after-school tutoring sessions in the trailer are becoming popular (I played them Israeli rap last week as they worked… next up, Norwegian heavy metal).

I caught a kid cheating on his midterm. It was a bummer, because I’d already caught him cheating once. I handled it very coolly—most of the other students were unaware and continued testing in peace. I noticed him as I was reading a test aloud to one of my students (the school does not provide for IEPs) and doing one of my frequent gimlet-eyed room scans that misses probably 50% of what it’s supposed to catch. He had his study guide beneath the test, and was furtively checking it for answers. I picked up his test, marked a 0, and as his jaw dropped, replaced it with a worksheet for him to finish. The shame of it is, that by caring enough to cheat, he shows more motivation (albeit external) than a lot of students.

Later that night, I called home to say it’s the second time I’ve caught him cheating on a test. His big brother, who sounded his age, picked up. When I asked for a parent or guardian, he told me that their mom’s in the hospital and they don’t know when their stepdad will be home. Ouch. Self-righteous teacherhood just got punched where it hurts.

My last block is becoming more mellow as we share more and more jokes and the kids realize I’m for real and so are their grades. Earlier in the week they were making up motions to remember the scientists of the scientific revolution as part of a larger project testing various mnemonic devices, and when two of the best dancers (and most hyperactive kids) in the class stood up to mime hoola hooping as a mnemonic for Kepler discovering elliptical orbits, the entire class was floored and giggling. Man these kids can move. When I tried to copy the moves we all collapsed again—Ms. W really can’t dance!

Today my second block was all set to be a hot mess, but I’m learning the feeling of it and beginning to figure out exactly how to steer. Instead of anarchy, we had a really good debate about Locke vs. Hobbes, the nature of humanity, and, ironically enough, the danger of anarchy. I need more ideas on how to play with social studies and up the rigor, and hence engagement—all the buzzwords here are actually right on the mark. I’m getting bored without new stuff, which means the kids must be as well. French Revolution next week… we’re definitely barricading the classroom with desks. Now to figure out how to create a classroom-safe guillotine…

My third block was as good as they get. They're so good that I turned the discussion over to them, and during our literary period they debated passionately about whether 10 and 11 year old criminals should be left in federal databases or removed, while class had them arguing about whether the school would be better run in a Hobbesian or Lockian system. The school definitely is Hobbesian in nature, and I sometimes wonder whether a little more trust in the innocence of our students and their ability to unite to run things wouldn't invest them more than the police state that public school sometimes seems.

My newest mentra is Beckett’s terse lines urging readers to “Try again. Fail again. Fail better.” Fail again. Fail better. That sounds like every day at school, and each day that I try something new I fail better and better until perhaps, some day, without quite realizing it, I’ll reach success.

My third block left my 2nd block a message for tomorrow. I wonder how2nd will respond, and if it's as terrible an idea to leave it up as I suspect, or if it will play on their strong sense of class pride and for once I won't feel embarrassed in front of the custodian...