A Teacher’s Success Story in FSUSD: (From Kristen Witt's newsletter)
I have a student who never turns in any work (almost literally), is often late to class and is generally just insubordinate. Some might look at him as a BIG problem on campus--I think I did. This student wouldn't even shake my hand.
I was often at my wits end on how to reach this kid. I can honestly say that I was ready to give up and just let him fail. I witnessed another adult on campus treat a similar student with compassion and figured I owed it to him to give it another try.
I can't pinpoint what it was exactly that I did--other than change my attitude towards him. I didn't confront him, nor did I lambast him (which he probably deserved)--I made a point to be positive and calm--it was tough. I didn't continue to point out all of the things he was doing that were incorrect/out of line. He must've seen it or been in a place where he could see it and understood. What happened next surprised me--Recently on a Monday morning he showed up on time and shook my hand. That day he turned in an assignment! Since then he has turned in a number of assignments and they were even well thought out and complete. He had not turned anything in for months. He didn't become an angel, nor has he turned in every assignment--but he has turned in most and he is now participating. He is respectful and is not causing as many disruptions and I am very thankful that I was open to learning that even the seemingly unreachable can be reached. I am left with the understanding that I made a difference and that this student has made a difference in me too. He has helped me remember that some students need me to not quit on them. It seemed like I gave him 100 chances--when he needed 101.
I am reminded that these kids can change and will change if we give them the chance.
A Letter to Teachers From “That Kid”
( From Amy Chavez's newsletter)
Dear Teacher,
I’m that kid. The kid who gets under your skin. The first grader who colors on your walls and spits on my table partners. The high school junior who mouths off and smirks from the back row. The child who knows exactly how to push your buttons, and does. Regularly.
I taunt. I terrorize. Sometimes I hit. I destroy. I curse. Rolling my eyes often seems like my favorite thing to do. I talk back. Maybe I’ve even made you cry a few times.
Don’t take my behavior toward you personally.
I know that doesn’t make any sense, since it’s mostly directed at you. But you know that old saying about having a bad day at work and going home and kicking the dog? Well, you’re the dog.
(I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.)
I really am a good kid deep down. There are so many things I care about. I have skills and strengths that I want to use to help other people. In fact, I secretly want for you to know all these good things about me.
But unfortunately, you don’t get to see these good things.
I am afraid. I am in pain. You know how if you put oil and water in a container together, the oil will float to the top? It’s like my fear and pain are the oil, and all the good things about me are water. Every once in a while, you might shake me up and see just a glimpse of those good things on the surface, but no matter how hard I try, the fear and pain will bubble up and cover everything again. It’s easy to think that the way that I react to fear and pain—the anger, the defiance—is the real me. In fact, I’ve even started to believe it.
The fear and pain I feel is different than what you may think. It’s not always actual physical fear or pain (though sometimes it is). I might be afraid that I’m not worthy of love, since my dad left me and my mom after I was born. I might be afraid that I will grow up to be like my mom, who is an alcoholic and misses all my baseball games. Or I might be in pain because my family and culture say I’m not manly enough since I cry a lot and am not really into sports. I might be in pain because someone who is supposed to love and protect me said something deeply hurtful that I won’t ever forget.
Maybe you look at me and think there’s no excuse for the way I behave. You might think, “This child has a stable family, loving parents, and a secure environment. I know kids with a lot less who behave perfectly fine.”
But please remember that there is always more than what you see.
What you might not know is that the pressure to be perfect or different than who I am is so intense and crushing that I believe I’m a failure, and I’m too scared to tell anybody that.
Or maybe my home life is fine, but I’m learning a very dangerous message—that I’m inadequate, unlovable, or not worthy of belonging—in some situation outside of home, or inside my own head. Maybe something is going on, or has happened, that nobody, not even my parents, knows about but me, and I do a really good job of faking that I’m happy or that I don’t care.
I know that I’m making things hard for you. I know you don’t deserve it. But I feel like you should know this: Somewhere, on a level I’m not even aware of, I’ve chosen you to behave this way toward because I know you’re a person who can help me.
This is a cry for help.
I want the same things everybody else does, but I’m asking for it in the most confusing and unflattering of ways.
I don’t know how to fix all of this (or I would have already). And I don’t think it’s necessarily your responsibility to fix me. But here’s how you can help me.
Start small. I’m fragile, and I’ve been hurt. Because I’ve got so much junk at the surface, maybe don’t try to remove it all at once or ask me to open up right away about my fear and pain.
Show me that you notice me—not my behavior, but something about me.
Ask me questions.
Don’t give in when I try to rile you up.
Maybe, slowly, I will learn to trust you. Or maybe I will take a long time, and you won’t see any progress in our time together, but your patience and kindness toward me will plant a seed that will sprout many years later.
But please, please, please don’t give up on me.
Love,
That Kid
SBAC Celebration on Monday:
Come prepared with your list of names that you will be reading. I will read perfect scores first. We will start with 3rd grade. Former grade level teachers go up and read the names of their students from last year together. Read ELA first Proficient/Advanced, then read ELA band jumpers. Students stay up front. Read Math next Proficient/Advanced, then read Math band jumpers. All students stay up front until all names are read for each grade level. If you have a new student in your class this year, you will be reading their name and recognizing them.
Come prepared with your list of names that you will be reading. I will read perfect scores first. We will start with 3rd grade. Former grade level teachers go up and read the names of their students from last year together. Read ELA first Proficient/Advanced, then read ELA band jumpers. Students stay up front. Read Math next Proficient/Advanced, then read Math band jumpers. All students stay up front until all names are read for each grade level. If you have a new student in your class this year, you will be reading their name and recognizing them.
Mrs. Merodio's last day will be on Tuesday. Thank you for going above and beyond to meet your students needs and even meeting with those students who are not part of your daily groups. We appreciate your dedication to our school!
Observable Fish Moments at SV:
Be There: Thank you staff for making our front office staff feel appreciated for ALL they do!! Thank you Heather H. and Kristin for helping out the front office.
Choose your attitude:
To actually choose how you respond to life, not just react, you must be intentional. Ask yourself throughout the day, "What is my attitude right now? Is it helping the people who depend on me? Is it helping me to be most effective?" NO EXCUSES!!
Make Their Day: Thank you Daniel for always stepping up and going the extra mile. Thank you Ariel and Carole for our fun spring sing concert.
Play: Thank you for making it a fun day for our office staff all week long.