Someday, I'll try to go back and fill in the blanks on my lengthy absence from the blogging world, but for now, suffice it to say that the school year has been a pretty hard one. There have been some hilarious moments thrown into the mix, however; honestly, I work in a middle school how could there not be?
Case in point: last Friday, I walked into first period, sixth-grade science class and was immediately approached by one of the deaf students. Now, there are two deaf students (really, hard of hearing, but whatever) in this class; I interpret for one student, a girl, and a colleague interprets for the other student, a boy. The boy is the one who approached me...to show off his new hairdo. Which, as I'm sure you can infer from the title of this post, was eerily similar to Mr. T's famous coif. Coincidentally, this student's name also happens to start with the letter 'T,' so nicknaming him "Mr. T" would be perfect. Except that I can't use that name now because I made the split-second decision upon his approach to consciously ignore his new hair cut, for several reasons:
The first being, it looks ridiculous.
The second, I know this student pretty well by now and I knew that he was just looking to get a reaction from me, just like the times he played Charles Nelson Reilly with his glasses. Or tried to get me to arm wrestle in class (I actually caved once on this during some down time at the end of the period and soundly defeated him, which one would think would stop him from challenging me again and again, but it did not). Or stood next to his desk and attempted to moonwalk up and down the aisle while class is in session. Or various other wacky behaviors.
The third, because I know this student so well by now, I knew that he was going to be distracted by his hair for the entire day and me making a fuss out of his hair was just going to feed into that distraction. And he was distracted by his hair, literally touching it, pointing to it, and turning to the other students to get them to notice every five to ten minutes. And I'm not exaggerating on the time frame. I'm in the same classroom as this kid five periods out of the school day and the "look at my hair" behavior didn't stop.
The fourth, I was horrified by the mohawk and my mother taught me that if I didn't have anything nice to say than I shouldn't say anything at all. Thanks, Mom! (And sorry about the first reason, it wasn't very polite of me).
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
Good Reasons Why I Don't Work in an Elementary School Setting, No. 1
Today I went over to the elementary school to interpret for an afterschool enrichment/tutoring program. I was in the school's main office, waiting to sign in, when a little boy came in, crying. He was with a teacher who went up to the main counter to ask the secretary to call this boy's parents because he had "pooped his pants." At the mention of this, the little boy, who looked to be about kindergarten-age, started sobbing even harder. I hadn't even been in the building for five minutes before I encountered a strangely typical elementary school problem.
The middle school may have drama, but it does not have students who poop their pants.
The middle school may have drama, but it does not have students who poop their pants.
Thursday, July 16, 2009
Trendsetter?
Today I'm wearing a pair of silver ballet flats that I purchased to wear for my brother's wedding, actually they're the shoes that go with the dress I'm wearing in my profile picture, when I remembered a good story from school last year. I wore my silver shoes to school this past spring and one of the eighth grade girls for whom I interpret was very impressed with them. She asked me where I bought them, a Cato store, which they don't have around here, I actually bought them in Maryland, but I told her it was a store like Deb or Fashion Bug, which they do have around here. I didn't think much about it, until two days later when this girl came to school wearing silver ballet flats quite similar to my own. She, being in middle school, and thus more fashion-conscious than her dorky interpreter, choose to accessorize with a super-wide silver belt and bangly jewelry. I prefer a more understated look, but I'm an interpreter.
This experience in turn, reminds me of the time I worked in a first grade class, right after I graduated. I finished up the school year working for a local elementary school. There was a hard of hearing boy there whose parents and teachers wanted to try interpreting services to see if that would improve his learning. It did because they wanted to hire me for the following school year, but I ended up going to the district where I now work because they paid much better and I wasn't the only interpreter in the district, like I would have been with this little boy.
Anyway, I was in a first grade classroom for the first time ever (well, ever since I myself was in first grade); up to that point all of my interpreting experience had been at the high school and university level. The youngest students I ever observed for practicums had been fifth grade and my sixteen-week student interpreting had been at the high school level. I was pretty unprepared for how impressionable the little kiddies were. The first day I went to interpret in this first grade classroom, I wore a skirt. The second day I went to school, I noticed that well over half the little girls in this class came to school wearing dresses and skirts; none of them had been wearing a skirt the previous day. I still smile when I think about those kids copying me.
This experience in turn, reminds me of the time I worked in a first grade class, right after I graduated. I finished up the school year working for a local elementary school. There was a hard of hearing boy there whose parents and teachers wanted to try interpreting services to see if that would improve his learning. It did because they wanted to hire me for the following school year, but I ended up going to the district where I now work because they paid much better and I wasn't the only interpreter in the district, like I would have been with this little boy.
Anyway, I was in a first grade classroom for the first time ever (well, ever since I myself was in first grade); up to that point all of my interpreting experience had been at the high school and university level. The youngest students I ever observed for practicums had been fifth grade and my sixteen-week student interpreting had been at the high school level. I was pretty unprepared for how impressionable the little kiddies were. The first day I went to interpret in this first grade classroom, I wore a skirt. The second day I went to school, I noticed that well over half the little girls in this class came to school wearing dresses and skirts; none of them had been wearing a skirt the previous day. I still smile when I think about those kids copying me.
Thursday, July 2, 2009
Summer Vacation
I love summer vacation. Much as I like my job, I don't really miss the kids or the hectic schedule. I do however wonder how the kids are doing at home. As I've mentioned several times before, none of the kids with whom I work have families that can competently, let alone fluently, sign with them. Any time we have an extended break from school I always wonder what the kids are up to and what they're missing out on.
I've been pretty busy lately with packing and cleaning and moving and now I have to start unpacking boxes. Plus, I don't currently have Internet service at home set up, but once I do, I'll be sure to get some more things up on the blog!
I've been pretty busy lately with packing and cleaning and moving and now I have to start unpacking boxes. Plus, I don't currently have Internet service at home set up, but once I do, I'll be sure to get some more things up on the blog!
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
Ten Years Ago, or, Random Thoughts About the End of the School Year
The end of the school year always makes me think about when I was student. I graduated from high school ten years ago, which makes me completely ancient to the little kids at the middle school. Today at school, the little sixth grade girl was looking at the newspaper and, for some reason, ended up looking at the obituaries. She pointed out one woman and made the sign for "old," but she inflected it to make the sign mean "extremely old/ancient." I thought she was going to show me some woman who had lived to be 98 years old or something but she pointed out a lady who had been born in 1944. The other deaf student and I started to tease her, both of us saying that 65 is not "ancient" old, sure it may be old, but to inflect the sign for "old" like that was not appropriate. I guess to a twelve year old, 65 IS ancient.
Today when I was leaving the building I ran into one of the deaf ed teachers from the elementary school (they have three in their building). This particular teacher's husband is a teacher in my building and she was dropping their son off on her way to an appointment. Apparently it was their little boy's last day of school (kindergarten) and he was sobbing about school being done for the year. I'm pretty sure that none of the middle school students will be as upset come Thursday. I'm also sure that no matter how much the tweens are anticipating summer vacation, EVERY staff member in the school is anticipating it a thousand times more than the students are. I don't remember wishing for summer vacation when I was student. I know I was glad that I had a break from assignments but I always liked school and I didn't want to be apart from my friends for three months. Now that I actually work in a school, I live for summer vacation. I LOVE having three months off. I like being able to sleep in (although for me sleeping in means not getting up until 8:30, maybe 9:00, instead of my usual 6:00 a.m.), I like being able to sit around and read books or watch movies or play on the computer for as long as I want, I like being able to go on trips and not have to feel guilty about missing school because there are no subs available for interpreters in my district, I like the freedom of not having a schedule.
However, if one was ever to ask me if I didn't like my job or working with the kids or wished to do something else, I would say, "Heck no." I love what I do. That doesn't mean that I don't appreciate a break every now and again, but I do enjoy my job.
One thing I liked about the last day of school when I was a kid was that our bus driver always brought popsicles for the kids on her bus route. That was pretty awesome.
The kids have been taking their district-wide end of the year tests the past few days. The kids hate the tests for the obvious reason that they're cumulative and therefore difficult. I hate the tests because they're always chock full of typos, leading me to wonder what kind of incompetent heads of departments think it's okay to expect the students to perform well on tests that are full of grammatical, editorial, and other errors. For example, this year's sixth grade science final repeats several questions verbatim, taking them from one page and then putting them on a page further into the test. One would think that that would mean easy points for the students; if they've already answered it once, they should be able to answer it again. But I just see sixth grade students who are frustrated by the time they get to question forty and don't realize they've seen that same question three pages ago. Not to mention that if a student did remember seeing that question before, it's possible that he answered it incorrectly the first time and will answer it incorrectly the second time, thus losing double the points.
Speaking of finals, I'll never forget the time I wrecked the curve for the class on a French final. Our teacher was going to grade the exam on a curve, which almost never happened at my school no matter how much certain students begged for it. She had to tell the class that she decided not to curve our test grades because one student earned a 103 on her test. Sorry, guys. When I was in high school, I was often exempt from most of my finals. A lot of our teachers wouldn't make us take the final if we already had an A in the class and our school had a policy that students could be exempt from one final exam for each grading period of perfect attendance (up to two finals per semester). I always opted out of my science or math finals. I mean, who really wants to take a calculus final? Yuck. French (I through III) was one of the easiest subjects I've ever taken, so naturally, I always opted to take the final in there.
I also took two years of German when I was in high school. Of course, my trusty sidekick, the Snicklefritz, in her pre-Snicklefritz days, was with me. This morning I randomly thought of one of the great tragedies of our high school careers... As I've mentioned, I was exempt from most of my final exams, so when I was senior I had close to a week off between the last day of official classes and graduation because all of the other grades were taking their finals during that week. Sis and I went into the school a few times during the week for graduation rehearsal, various end of year things, etc., and it was on one of those trips into the school that we found out that the facilitator of our German class had thrown out our final German project. We took German class through a satellite feed from Kentucky, so all of our projects and tests were mailed to the teacher and then sent back to us at the school. Our final project that year was to put together a calendar of German-related things, so Sis and I pulled the only all-nighter of our high school careers and created a calendar featuring famous German athletes. I can't even remember all of them, but I know we included Michael Schumacher, Steffi Graf, Boris Becker, and Katarina Witt. We were so ticked when we went into the school that day and the lady who was responsible for mailing our schoolwork to the teacher in Kentucky told us that she had received the graded calendar and then thrown it out because we weren't at school that week and she "didn't think that we would want it back." Ten years later and my blood pressure still rises when I think about it. Sorry Sis, to bring up the bad memory of that experience.
Today when I was leaving the building I ran into one of the deaf ed teachers from the elementary school (they have three in their building). This particular teacher's husband is a teacher in my building and she was dropping their son off on her way to an appointment. Apparently it was their little boy's last day of school (kindergarten) and he was sobbing about school being done for the year. I'm pretty sure that none of the middle school students will be as upset come Thursday. I'm also sure that no matter how much the tweens are anticipating summer vacation, EVERY staff member in the school is anticipating it a thousand times more than the students are. I don't remember wishing for summer vacation when I was student. I know I was glad that I had a break from assignments but I always liked school and I didn't want to be apart from my friends for three months. Now that I actually work in a school, I live for summer vacation. I LOVE having three months off. I like being able to sleep in (although for me sleeping in means not getting up until 8:30, maybe 9:00, instead of my usual 6:00 a.m.), I like being able to sit around and read books or watch movies or play on the computer for as long as I want, I like being able to go on trips and not have to feel guilty about missing school because there are no subs available for interpreters in my district, I like the freedom of not having a schedule.
However, if one was ever to ask me if I didn't like my job or working with the kids or wished to do something else, I would say, "Heck no." I love what I do. That doesn't mean that I don't appreciate a break every now and again, but I do enjoy my job.
One thing I liked about the last day of school when I was a kid was that our bus driver always brought popsicles for the kids on her bus route. That was pretty awesome.
The kids have been taking their district-wide end of the year tests the past few days. The kids hate the tests for the obvious reason that they're cumulative and therefore difficult. I hate the tests because they're always chock full of typos, leading me to wonder what kind of incompetent heads of departments think it's okay to expect the students to perform well on tests that are full of grammatical, editorial, and other errors. For example, this year's sixth grade science final repeats several questions verbatim, taking them from one page and then putting them on a page further into the test. One would think that that would mean easy points for the students; if they've already answered it once, they should be able to answer it again. But I just see sixth grade students who are frustrated by the time they get to question forty and don't realize they've seen that same question three pages ago. Not to mention that if a student did remember seeing that question before, it's possible that he answered it incorrectly the first time and will answer it incorrectly the second time, thus losing double the points.
Speaking of finals, I'll never forget the time I wrecked the curve for the class on a French final. Our teacher was going to grade the exam on a curve, which almost never happened at my school no matter how much certain students begged for it. She had to tell the class that she decided not to curve our test grades because one student earned a 103 on her test. Sorry, guys. When I was in high school, I was often exempt from most of my finals. A lot of our teachers wouldn't make us take the final if we already had an A in the class and our school had a policy that students could be exempt from one final exam for each grading period of perfect attendance (up to two finals per semester). I always opted out of my science or math finals. I mean, who really wants to take a calculus final? Yuck. French (I through III) was one of the easiest subjects I've ever taken, so naturally, I always opted to take the final in there.
I also took two years of German when I was in high school. Of course, my trusty sidekick, the Snicklefritz, in her pre-Snicklefritz days, was with me. This morning I randomly thought of one of the great tragedies of our high school careers... As I've mentioned, I was exempt from most of my final exams, so when I was senior I had close to a week off between the last day of official classes and graduation because all of the other grades were taking their finals during that week. Sis and I went into the school a few times during the week for graduation rehearsal, various end of year things, etc., and it was on one of those trips into the school that we found out that the facilitator of our German class had thrown out our final German project. We took German class through a satellite feed from Kentucky, so all of our projects and tests were mailed to the teacher and then sent back to us at the school. Our final project that year was to put together a calendar of German-related things, so Sis and I pulled the only all-nighter of our high school careers and created a calendar featuring famous German athletes. I can't even remember all of them, but I know we included Michael Schumacher, Steffi Graf, Boris Becker, and Katarina Witt. We were so ticked when we went into the school that day and the lady who was responsible for mailing our schoolwork to the teacher in Kentucky told us that she had received the graded calendar and then thrown it out because we weren't at school that week and she "didn't think that we would want it back." Ten years later and my blood pressure still rises when I think about it. Sorry Sis, to bring up the bad memory of that experience.
Monday, April 20, 2009
Meanest Interpreter in the World
Who's the meanest interpreter in the world? It could be me, considering I made a sixth-grader cry on Friday. But, I'll let you be the judge.
I interpret for two deaf students in the same language arts class, a little boy and a little girl. Last Thursday, the little girl was absent (a frequent occurrence). Friday, both students were back in class and the little girl had picked up her make-up assignment and started working on it during class. I was interpreting the current day's lesson for her and the other student when this little girl started asking me for help on her make-up work. I stopped interpreting for a moment to tell her, "Not right now, the teacher is talking, pay attention," and went back to interpreting the lesson. Apparently my response to her demands for help was unsatisfactory, because this girl then started hitting her desk to get my attention and was emphatically pointing at her make-up worksheet. I looked at her and then pointed to the teacher and again said, "Pay attention."
At this point I could see that she was getting very frustrated with me. Her paper was on her desk and she kept poking at it and hitting her desk. Now, keep in mind, there is another deaf student in this class, the teacher is busy teaching a new lesson, and this little girl has used no language whatsoever, she's only been hitting her desk, pointing to her paper and angrily looking at me. So, I said, "Excuse me," to the little boy and then stopped interpreting for a minute to talk to the little girl. In a basic English translation, I told her to knock it off. "I'm in the middle of interpreting. The teacher is talking and not only are you missing the information, but now [the little boy] is missing it too. And, if you need my help, you could try asking for it politely, saying 'please help me,' instead of being rude and pounding on your desk." I lectured this little girl for probably 45 seconds. At the end of my lecture the little girl just sat still for a moment and then she started to cry. I gave her some kleenex and then I just left her alone for a little bit because I didn't want to draw too much attention to her (she didn't need all of the other students to stare at her) and the teacher went on with class.
I felt kind of bad that this girl started to cry because of me, but I don't think I was too harsh with her. The two of us ended up talking about it a little bit later and she was okay then.
I interpret for two deaf students in the same language arts class, a little boy and a little girl. Last Thursday, the little girl was absent (a frequent occurrence). Friday, both students were back in class and the little girl had picked up her make-up assignment and started working on it during class. I was interpreting the current day's lesson for her and the other student when this little girl started asking me for help on her make-up work. I stopped interpreting for a moment to tell her, "Not right now, the teacher is talking, pay attention," and went back to interpreting the lesson. Apparently my response to her demands for help was unsatisfactory, because this girl then started hitting her desk to get my attention and was emphatically pointing at her make-up worksheet. I looked at her and then pointed to the teacher and again said, "Pay attention."
At this point I could see that she was getting very frustrated with me. Her paper was on her desk and she kept poking at it and hitting her desk. Now, keep in mind, there is another deaf student in this class, the teacher is busy teaching a new lesson, and this little girl has used no language whatsoever, she's only been hitting her desk, pointing to her paper and angrily looking at me. So, I said, "Excuse me," to the little boy and then stopped interpreting for a minute to talk to the little girl. In a basic English translation, I told her to knock it off. "I'm in the middle of interpreting. The teacher is talking and not only are you missing the information, but now [the little boy] is missing it too. And, if you need my help, you could try asking for it politely, saying 'please help me,' instead of being rude and pounding on your desk." I lectured this little girl for probably 45 seconds. At the end of my lecture the little girl just sat still for a moment and then she started to cry. I gave her some kleenex and then I just left her alone for a little bit because I didn't want to draw too much attention to her (she didn't need all of the other students to stare at her) and the teacher went on with class.
I felt kind of bad that this girl started to cry because of me, but I don't think I was too harsh with her. The two of us ended up talking about it a little bit later and she was okay then.
Saturday, March 28, 2009
"FAMILY FUN: Your Mom and Her Sister"
Again, from Stephen Colbert's I Am America (and So Can You!) 2009 desk calendar, this entry for March 19 kind of piggy-backs on my last entry about twin sisters:
"Is your mom the one who 'got the looks' or the one who 'got the brains'? Either way, she resents her sister for getting the other one!"
"Is your mom the one who 'got the looks' or the one who 'got the brains'? Either way, she resents her sister for getting the other one!"
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