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Another Day In High School
They came back from lunch, sat at their desks and were fairly quiet for thirty-something seventeen-year-olds packed in a tiny room. The questions to the novel we read together were on the SmartBoard. My goal was to discuss the characters and themes. The students were quieter than normal, which falsely lead me to believe that they were really interested in our discussion. After all, this was a novel one boy had referred to as “a book I actually may buy.”
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Here’s Our New Video!
We’re on a roll! Here’s our second video. http://kdrausin.com/2019/07/07/introducing-rausin-writes/
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The Boy Who Gave Me Hope
The boy who gave me hope He came to class most days looking like he’d just crawled out bed. I understood. My mornings began at 4:30 am. A seven am. school start time was early! I’d begin class, and he’d put his head down and sleep. My heart sank. A little voice told me to teach to the other thirty that listened. Still there he was not caring at all. I reached out to him. Nothing. I explained that there was make-up work to complete. Nothing. As the quarter continued his incompletes accumulated.
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Writing From the Heart
I stood in front of the class and breathed. Would this work or would I fail? Could I take an exercise from a writing workshop and teach it to high school students? These past few weeks have been a whirlwind. I’ve taught and subbed for years but have never taught eleventh grade. My husband explained a phrase used in business, fail fast. Take risks, if you fail at least you tried, learn and move on. That’s been my motto these past few weeks as I’ve tried to keep thirty-four seventeen-year-olds engaged in class. Each time something didn’t work, I’d fail fast and try again. Sometimes what worked for one class didn’t…
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New Beginnings
It was six forty-five am. Drum beats echoed across the dark parking lot packed with cars. Wobble baby, wobble baby, wobble baby, wobble! Students danced in the courtyard as the sun lit the sky. Giant hand-painted signs: Class of 2018! Class of 2019! decorated the lawn.
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The Hardest Part of Parenting is Understanding Your Children are not Yours
The hardest part of parenting has been understanding that my children are individuals, separate from me. As much as I want to control their behavior and who they are and what they do–I can’t. Kai began teaching me this lesson early on. His humor, his temper tantrums, his speaking exactly what was on his mind, refusing to eat healthy foods or wear a jacket– I found shocking. I wanted to control him, make him eat the broccoli because then I’d be a good mom. But from the age of three he let me know it wasn’t going to happen. I could try but I’d have a huge, unnecessary battle on…
