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goes one-to-one, parochial, and single-gender in one fell swoop. var sc_project=296215; var sc_partition=1;

Updated: 2009-11-24T12:12:00-05:00


Notes From a Poetry Unit Draft


Download Poetry Unit This is a very rough draft that I will keep on the back-burner over the holidays. Since I will teach poetry in the spring, I have some time to figure out if my outline is feasible. I...

Teacher Work Day aka Rise of the Coolest Six-Year-Old Ever


Mr. Hipteacher took Hipkid to school the other day only to find that it was a teacher work day and the kids had no school. Fortunately, Mr. H didn't have any classes of his own to teach that day--because he...

Where I Become *That* Parent


Lord, help me. I don't want to be *that* parent. Those parents drive me crazy on a regular basis. The mom who, last week, claimed that her daughter had spent three hours a day for three weeks working on her...

Broken Down Teaching


I have much to learn. On Thursday, I had to leave school early because I got a freakish visual migraine. It was pretty bad this time. I went almost completely blind, and the regular migraine and fever that followed is...

Manage This


I am taking a classroom management class at school. Being assertive and authoritative continues to be my "growing edge" as a teacher. Part of it is because I have this strange desire to teach ninth graders, but my students are...



Pumping at work is an adventure. I want to continue breastfeeding my daughter, so I have to pump at work to keep up supply and provide a bottle to daycare for the next day—not that the child actually takes a... Pumping at work is an adventure. I want to continue breastfeeding my daughter, so I have to pump at work to keep up supply and provide a bottle to daycare for the next day—not that the child actually takes a bottle, but that is another story. Right before school started, I awkwardly asked the chair of my department, a fairly enlightened dude, if he had any idea where I would be able to pump. He suggested the bathroom in the faculty lounge. I felt like pumping in the bathroom might be a little gross, but on my first day, I dutifully went down to the faculty lounge to check out the facilities. No chair. No plug. No pumping. I ran to the principal’s assistant, who unlocked the counselor’s office for me to use. It was nice and comfortable, but I watched the door like a hawk, frightened that this counselor, who I hadn’t met yet, might decide to come to work for a little pre-planning. Thankfully, she didn’t. She’s a super nice lady, but nobody really wants to make a first impression under those conditions. It has gotten better. By the odd stroke of luck, I ended up with an office (Yes, I still do not yet have my own classroom—in my seventh year of teaching. I’ve got to stay in one place for more than three years!) that happens to have a utility closet. I share said office with a colleague who has a baby and who also pumped at work all last year. Fantastic! I’m so grateful that I don’t have to feel embarrassed or like I am infringing on her office space when I pump. But it is still hard to manage my time with my new at-work responsibility, especially because I am sort of teaching six out of seven classes. As often as I can, I go to yearbook during one of my planning periods because I am assisting with the book. I try to pump during lunch, hence my penchant for watching edtech conference podcasts in my little closet.There are hazards though. The other day while in mid-pump, the fire alarm rang out. My officemate, who happened to be teaching in the attached classroom, ran in to turn off the office light and lock the door so that I could hide out. She promised to send someone for me if it turned out to be a real alarm. Another time, I pumped during lunch and didn’t have time to run down to the fridge in the faculty lounge before the bell, so I stopped by another colleague’s classroom because she has a mini-fridge in her room. Unfortunately she hadn’t gotten back to her classroom yet when the bell rang, so before really thinking, I handed my precious bottle of milk to a random student waiting outside the teacher’s room and asked her to put it in the fridge. When I swung by at the end of the day to pick up the bottle, the teacher laughingly told me that the student approached her with the bottle and quietly whispered a question: “Ms. English Teacher, was that breastmilk?” “Yes, Sweet Student, it was.” “Oh...” Now when you read about Siddhartha’s dream where Govinda turns into a woman, and Siddhartha drinks from her breast, you will understand what is going on—unlike my sophomore class that was very confused and appalled by that scene. You’re welcome for bringing you the facts of life.          [...]

Jumping off the bridge


I am a sometimes early adopter of new technology. Since family life has hit me in the face, my energy for newness has slowed somewhat. Mr. Hipteacher's jollies about iPhone apps haven't rubbed off on me--mostly because he's jazzed to...

What Gets Lost in the Ether


I am now teaching at a school which boasts a one-to-one computer program. All the kids have laptops. All the teachers have laptops. All the classrooms have smartboards, even humanities classrooms! So, I've died and gone to teacher heaven, right?...

Watch Me Grow


Do you like my new banner? My sweet and super-talented friend Heather designed it for me as a little present. Yes, I was much happier to receive her sketch than another pink pink pink baby outfit with little bows and...

Bad things come in threes, etc.


I had all these serious things I wanted to write about--well, one serious thing and several funny things--but, to be completely honest, I'm not feeling it because this was one of those days that I had to will myself to...