The Schedule

My main focus in this blog is twofold.

One, I did not record any of my previous educational experiences. Most of it I remember, minus the sleep deprived years of grad school, but I know now that I'll later want to look at what I did during this time in my life. Ergo, write a journal.

Two, though, if someone else is trying to decide whether it's worth it to drop everything and go after a dream, maybe I can help answer that question. My hope is that the answer will be positive, but as this is a work in progress, who knows?

Having said that, I've been in class for two weeks now. Most everyday, I want to leave crying. It's not that I can't do the work--quite the contrary. It has nothing to do with the professors, who all seem like really nice people. Most of the classmates are really cool, despite my description of a couple of the more noticeable ones. No, it's none of the above, but is in fact the classes themselves that are becoming the problem.

My Mondays:

K-6? Literacy:

Class begins at 11:30, after the prof, Dr. S, has placed bowls of candy on the desks. At first, I thought it was very sweet of the old lady to provide candy; now I realize it's to keep us awake during class. In four of the last seven classes, we have watched a video tape on phonemes. Not several video tapes--ONE video. She provides the paper with headings for which we are to take notes on said video. Despite providing the paper for notes, we did not receive a syllabus until Monday of this week, which she spent all of Monday reading to us. When trying to have a class discussion, she dominates the conversation with tales of how she has fought the system; sadly, I think the system she is referring to was in the 1950s, which would be when she last taught in a classroom other than college setting.

Her biggest pet peeve is seriously the lower case letter k not being written correctly and the class not participating. My biggest pet peeve, other than being treated like a five year old, is the fact that she has yet to even ask our names and refuses to call on those of us who raise our hands--I should really start yelling out answers to her rhetorical questions in order to gain some attention. Of course, she's already proven that, despite her "warning" that class participation is a big part of the grade, she doesn't care about our participation. Or us.

Class: Teaching math to students with mild learning disabilities.

Ms. D assigned a lesson plan for the first homework assignment on the first day of class. Since she has only learned she would be teaching the class the day before, I remain impressed with her preparation. Granted, there were no comments on the assignment, but we are using them to learn how to write IEP (individual educational programs).

Wait! We're learning in that class. There's a concept. While the class isn't overly challenging to me, I have to remember that I'm not the new teacher this class is designed for and give her a little slack.

The real challenge is going to be dealing with BJ, who gasped when she realized that, oh noes!, she has to write a different IEP for each discipline the student needs one for, as well as a separate IEP for any behavior or emotional issues. She was visibly not happy.

I missed the memo that special education did not require paperwork; in fact, I thought it was partly responsible for the Amazon's decreased tress.

Next up: Behavior/Emotional Disorders.

Dr. D's first day of class met her with a meeting that ran into class time and no ordered book. As she had only been employed here for a week, she had not had time to order a book and was frustrated that one had not been ordered. That's understandable. Having an attitude with her class and verbally chastising us for this, however, is not. Homework was to read a power point presentation that she had printed out for us.

This week's class, she seemed to be in a better mood. Books arrived 30 minutes prior to class, so while few of us had them, at least they're available. She tried to learn names when she spoke with us. She seemed a little friendlier.

Then she opened the power point presentation, the same one we had read for homework, and proceeded to read it to us slide. by. slide. Why should I spend time reading and doing homework if I'm going to be doing the same thing in class? I could be doing so many other more interesting things, such as washing my hair or returning videos.

Somewhere in between page 4 and 5 of the 3-slides-per-page presentation, she sidetracked into her own experiences. At least this gave me the opportunity to wake up and quit hitting my hand with an open pen to stay awake. She told a story of a student with an emotional problem whose IEP had stated he was too dangerous to actually be in school; the school allowed him in and during the school year, he stabbed another student in the ear with a pencil, causing severe damage.

Wow. She caught my attention, but I did have a question: Where is the system of checks and balances for school systems that do not follow an IEP?

Her answer: She told a story of a student with an emotional problem whose IEP had stated he was too dangerous to actually be in school; the school allowed him in and during the school year, he stabbed another student in the ear with a pencil, causing severe damage.

No, I did not make a mistake in repeating that. She repeated the story for an answer. Maybe my question wasn't clear (though, "checks and balances" is pretty clear language): I asked the same question but in a slightly clearer way.

Her answer: She told a story of a student with an emotional problem whose IEP had stated he was too dangerous to actually be in school; the school allowed him in and during the school year, he stabbed another student in the ear with a pencil, causing severe damage.

I gave up.

Next time: Reading, Curriculum, and LD.