The second quarter grade cards have been pinned to refrigerators by alphabet magnets, while the third quarter's grades begin to invade and peck away at month old standards. Some kids, without the distraction of sweat and out-door chases, begin to witness a transformation in their effort. Papers begin to be turned in and behaviors sometimes mellow. They do get louder, so much that the drone of hip-hop music from computer speakers meld with the lack of indoor voices during recess. I bat requests away for those long thirty minutes.
The gloss of mid-year testing also begins to lose its luster. Graphs are made and groups are organized. Progress is defined in alphabetic letters, green dots and abbreviations. In reading, a U score is great, the epitome of fifth-grade prowess and intelligence, but a U in behavior means you've had one too many outbursts to remain in class on a regular basis. It's all in context.
So parents come hoping to hear--something new, something old with a twist? I trot out worksheets and work samples. Sometimes the kids sit among their parents. I've had some tear and cry. Others stand awkwardly as if the amount of time already spent on school has drained them of blood and voice. Others roam around the room, comfortable in their surroundings. There are typically three types of conferences--well, 4.
1--The no-show/no appointment conference. These are the kids who you need to see urgently, but because of schedules, a lack of communication or lack of vigilance, never meet. They are not always behavior problem kids, nor are they ever not high achieving. But there's something in that student's progress, or lack thereof, that a teacher must get off their chest in a face-to-face meeting. Perhaps the parent's have been numb to past conferences, so they don't look forward to hearing anything the teacher has to say. These are the kids that take an extra week to return forms, the kids that wear the perpetual dirty coat--the clinger kid. The kid who is either always tardy, always leaving early, or frequently missing that one day a week when you teach new material.
2--The no need conferences. These are the kids that "get it." Teachers end up talking more about a student's personal endeavors rather than a test score, simply because the test is a given. While they are not always a teacher's best kids, most likely they are. These are the kids that lose out when a teacher begins ranting about a lack of concentration towards the kid who sits in the corner. These are the kids that demand more gifted and talented funding. These are the kids who also hold a school together. We say things like, "I wish they would behave more," with other teachers in the halls. The kid whose cheek you want to pinch. They are the "buy-in" kids. There are no gimmicks or incentives that they typically need to succeed. In our district, their parents see the saggy pants and brooding faces of junior high and wonder where their kid fits. They's rather home school them then to have them in the general population. On-line schools and magnet charters now purge the best of our district, simply because the neighbor down the street cannot control their kids. The parents have an impression that middle school kids are running the asylum. Perhaps that is all in perception, from rumor or from their own experiences. I used to think it was racial--the good white kid who didn't want to be around dark-skinned, deadbeats. But it isn't. It's class, it's a value system they feel is missing among their community. Who am I to argue?
The other 2 conference types are the keep trying and the stall. The keep trying kids are the ones who are not consistent enough to be great, but not struggling enough to be considered at-risk. The stall conferences are the ones teachers have that are awkward because of the elephant in the room. Typically it is from an academic lack of progress or they are having the type of behavior that not only impedes their learning but the others around them. I almost wish the parents from the no-need club were sitting behind me with a disgusted look on their face, waving a shame-shame finger at them. I know that's judgmental, confrontational and skirting the real issue of need. These are the kids that walk by everyday in the neighborhood that you wish would transfer to another school. Many times I have found that the results of a child is very much attributed to the struggles of the parents. What is there to say to a parent who can barely help their own kid read because they can barely read?
Blessings too, come from conferences. From my own (we haven't been to a conference this year, but then again, we haven't needed to), to the work that gets accomplished in between appointments, the conversations you have with colleagues. We each have our own strengths and personalities. If they all meld into a cohesive unit, you have a great school. Other times, the gifts and talents of many are squandered on the few because of a lack of direction, a lack of purpose.
So this week, to combat the winter blah fever, we've been playing cooperative team building games, singing songs and chanting mantras with my fifth grade class.
I am a new creation, deeply loved, fully pleasing and totally accepted. There has never been another person like me, in the history of mankind, nor will there ever be. I was made original, one of a kind, really somebody.
None of them probably know the above is taken from a Christian book, and how God fits into the meaning. We clap and sway to the tune of "Lean On Me." I use my limited movie-built knowledge of WW2 to discuss why being Switzerland is not what we want to be in life. Switzerland was a neutral country during the war. How can you sit idly by when evil is at your doorstep? Why laugh when someone is made fun of? Take a stand. Don't be a Switzerland. You think I could get that on a shirt?
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