Search

“But nobody here listens to me,” Saul lamented as he tried to explain why he was in my office yet again this week. “I don’t know why I even bother to come here.” His refrain is a familiar one in my large, suburban high school. I have a feeling it’s a familiar one in high schools across the country. Our kids are crying out to be heard, and unfortunately, those cries often result in disciplinary referrals.

Alabama’s new law—with provisions against hiring, harboring or transporting undocumented immigrants—is bad enough for adults. But it is potentially disastrous for kids.

As a student teacher, my mentor Paula told me that the best teachers were lifelong learners. Following her own wisdom, she took fiddle lessons every week. She practiced daily. Be a student—of anything—she said. That way you'll always empathize with those you are trying to teach.For the last three days, I've been learning complex choreographed dances right along with my students. I am being schooled in my mentor's lesson and in dance.

One clear advantage of extracurricular activities is that they tend to get students’ undivided attention. Most young people have a real connection to their sports team, choir, theater group or other organization. The coach, director or advisor enjoy unique opportunities to see students really concentrate on a consistent basis. This creates a powerful opportunity for us as educators when it comes to issues of diversity. We can model fairness, equity and inclusion, as well as provide experiences for our students to be exposed to positive diversity messages.

Today’s conventional wisdom is that English language learners (ELLs) need to master English as quickly as possible. Everything else is secondary. If these students remain fluent in their primary languages, good for them. If not, no big deal.

Every marking period I contact the parents of my most remarkable students to tell them how great their kids are. I do this for a few reasons. Too often, my attention is consumed with kids who need refocusing, redirecting and all the other IEP-mandated practices teachers do anyway. But mostly I contact the remarkable students because I’ve noticed that the kids who do good work often go unacknowledged.

The first time I met Donnie (not his real name), he was wearing a green dress with gold trim, had shoulder-length hair, and wore glasses frames with no lenses. His hair was matted and he was covered in dirt. His eyes were bloodshot and filled with tears. He would not speak to me for the first 20 minutes. And then, in a flood of emotion, he began to tell me his plight.