Goodbyes

Today, my bilingual coworker, Mr. P, lost a student to a non-bilingual class down the hall. Just after the little girl changed classrooms, I taught Mr. P's students English math. All of the little girls were sobbing and wiping their eyes as they walked into my classroom. The overall mood was hectic, and I worked several minutes to settle them all down. When the students had finally quieted, the little girl appeared in the doorway to say "hi" to her old classmates. I shooed her off after a few minutes, and fierce sobs broke out again from the girls. "She's just next door," I tried to console. But to no avail. I suppose goodbyes are just hard, regardless of the distance.

Testing

My students are being tested within an inch of their lives. Reading tests, math tests, cognitive ability tests -- the tests never seem to end. I sometimes feel that my job title should be "proctor" instead of "teacher." Because they are bilingual, my kids must take each test twice, first in English and then in Spanish. While undergoing a difficult and long reading test, one little girl said, "We have to do all of this? We are going to be so old!"

The past month: a synopsis

According to Educator Harry Wong, there are four stages of teaching: neophyte, survival, mastery, and impact. I had hoped to bypass the survival mode (probably neophyte mode thinking), but in the past month, I've found that I was not immune it it.

Several weeks ago, I had to administer a reading test individually to each of my students in Spanish. Non-bilingual teachers had other teachers pull students out to administer the test, but as my kids test in Spanish, I had to administer the test myself. This meant that for an entire week, my students worked on nothing but worksheets for math while I crammed testing into the afternoon.

I finished the testing on the day it was due, squeezing eight tests into the last day. The week following, I came down with bronchitis and a 103 degree fever. I drugged up and continued going to school, but survival mode was certainly in effect.

Last week my kids took a district math test and did poorly on it. I was pretty discouraged, but now at least I know some of their weaker areas and can focus on them.

This job certainly presents a host of obstacles. Of course, the language is one of them. While I can communicate with my students, my academic language is still very low. I've started spending my evenings building it up, learning words like "hundreds thousands place" or "dividend." Strangely, I never learned those words in Spanish 4.

Another obstacle is my particular group of students. Of the two third-grade bilingual classes, my class is certainly the lower one. In their diagnostic math test administered at the beginning of the year, my class scored about 60 percent lower than my coworker's class. I've had some of the second-grade teachers talk to me, wondering how I ended up with their lowest students. Some of the students were even passed onto third grade expected to fail and to be retained.

Yet another obstacle is the system itself. Bilingual children are unable to be considered for special education services until third grade, due to their language difficulties. I have had numerous teachers from the earlier grades suggest that I get this or that student tested for a particular disability. While this means a lot of paperwork for me, it also means that some of my students have gone for years in school without receiving services for things like dyslexia and other learning problems.

Honestly, in this past month, I have had moments when I've wanted to quit. I wonder why I thought I could do this, and I especially wonder why teaching still has the reputation of being the career for people who cannot do anything else. But as always, there are those moments, albeit few and far between, when I see clearly why I am doing what I am doing.

So, for now, I guess I'll add a few hours to my already 10-hour days, buckle down, and work a bit harder.