Orange.

I write. It's how I learn, it's how I communicate, it's how I process basically everything occurring in the world around me.

Escribo. Es la manera en que aprendo, es como comunico - es la manera en que puedo procesar lo que ocurre en el mundo.

And I don't want to forget everything I've learned (in regards to Spanish) and I want to take it further - eventually.  So I'm trying to solidify and maintain everything I know in preparation for taking "forward" steps.

Y...no quiero olvidar todo lo que aprendí (en relación a español) y me gustaría avanzar mi comprensión. Entonces, tengo la intención asegurar y mantener todo lo que sé en preparación para avanzar.

So, here I am - with notes in hand - and working out exercises for myself.
Obviously. I'm a teacher. What else would I do?

Aquí estoy, con las notas en mano, y ejercicios para hacer. Obviamente. Soy una maestra. Cual otra cosa haría? 

So, you may not know what you're looking at - but it's all verb tenses and phrases and words to remember...artfully put together in a practical and applicable way. Some of my students do really well with drawing comics and applying their words in that way, some do well in essays, other prefer spoken presentations, etc. Me? Poems. Stories. Every time.

Every. Time.

Quizá no entenderás lo que ves...pero todos son verbos y frases y palabras para recordar - conectados en una manera aplicable y practicable a mí. Algunas de mis alumnas tener éxito con comics - o con essays (ensayos?) - y otras prefieren hablar o dar presentaciones. Pero yo? Poemas. Historias. Cada vez.

Cada.Vez.

----

Camino con cuidado
y miro a donde voy -
para evitar el inesperado;
las grietas, los hoyos, y tú.

Pero con ojos azules y
completamente abiertos
te permití bajo pie
bajo mi piel
resbalé en tus palabras y
me caí dentro de tu alma.

O, quizá tiré la tuya dentro de mí.
Quién sabe?
Quién sabrá?

Huello ligeramente
alrededor el lugar
donde guardas los latidos de tu corazón
y pregunto a mí misma
- en voz alta, como Alicia -
cómo me caí esta caída lenta...
lentamente...
lentamente...?

Y por qué no me importa si nunca regreso al lugar donde estaba antes?

Eres la pastilla que hace que crezca, y
tienes todo el poder de hacerme sentirme pequeña
pero
no puedo imaginar que realmente lo usarías
porque haces que
pueda ver las estrellas con ojos diferentes y
tenga confianza y
me sienta importante a alguien en algún manera.

A tí, en la manera tuya.

Y si me pones el color azul,
te pongo el color naranja -
pero una naranja cálido, como la que puedes ver en los minutos antes la puesta del sol
porque eres mis minutos antes la puesta del sol,
porque eres todos los minutos,
porque eres el temblor anaranjado y cálido de la estrella Betelgeuse
porque cuando rías, está cálida
porque tus manos son cálidos
porque tus ojos cuando ven míos - cálidos, en llamas -
llamas anaranjadas.

Supongo que durante mi camino, nunca estaba mirando por llamas.

Will They Know?

As a teacher in a city-school, I have my bakers dozen of kids that make me cry. They make me cry for different reasons. I cry when they exasperate me. I cry when they distract the class from learning. I cry when I think about the system that is failing them. I cry when they fail. I cry when they succeed. I cry when they cry.

Tonight, I have one young man in mind. I knew 5 weeks ago that this would be a student who I would cry over.

The first days, he was hesitant to do anything. I could see his frustrations with schoolwork boiling up into his eyes and spilling out in a variety of ways: tears, dancing and singing, throwing stuff, fighting. Everyday with this young man has been an absolute battle.

Two weeks ago, we had an open-notes quiz. He had all the notes in his binder, but they were so disorganized he didn't want to look through them. Slowly, we went through and pulled them all out and when he realized he had enough notes to get a B on the quiz, the biggest smile came across his face and he looked at me and said, "Oh. I can do this."

Yes, I thought. Yes - you can. You've always been able to do this. But for him to recognize that in himself was the key. It was a pivotal moment in our teacher-student relationship, and his relationship with his schoolwork.

Over the course of the next few days, he handed in all of his assignments. The effort he'd put into them was obvious, and he beamed at me as he handed them in.

"I bet these ones will be as good as my quiz!"

This young man is tender-hearted, but he's impulsive. Like most 12 year old boys, he acts before he thinks. He sees a friend in the hall, he's going to go to the hall. He feels like chatting with his buddy 6 rows over, he's going to get up and chat with his buddies. He hates the girl behind him? He is going to tell her, and when she comes back with "Boy, I'mma slap the shit out of you" he stands up and meets her request for battle.

This week, his impulsivity got the best of him.

5 weeks of piecing together the puzzle of this young man - so, so delicately - has been shattered. His eagerness and desire to please - to be included, to be heard in this world....those things took over.

He brought a knife to school. Kids were threatened.

It's heartbreaking. Just as we were making progress. Just as he was beginning to believe in himself, just as he was starting to understand that you can play the game of school without getting played yourself - that classrooms can be a place where we learn and grow and laugh and love and cry and live...

Over. Before it even started.

So I worry. I cry for him. I wonder - will there be another teacher in his future who will give him the time and space he needs to grow? Will they keep him in the classroom and let him know that he belongs there - not in the office? Will they let his behaviors keep him from learning?

Will they let his behaviors keep them from trying to teach him?

Superlatives

I left school yesterday feeling pretty sick. Some virus has been hitting the students & teachers at Anthony pretty hard, and it is my turn.

But, even in my hour of illness, I found it absolutely essential to keep my promise to the students I taught at Armstrong - and so I put on my sweater and braved a high school football game. Well, part of one anyway. I left after an hour. I just stayed long enough for the kids to see me.

This morning, I'm paying for that little excursion. But it seems a teacher's work never ends because, despite the fever and the other stuff, I'm sitting on my floor surrounded by vocabulary story-quizzes and student research for the quarter final project.

And you know how I am...I hate to be selfish and keep these little gems of student work to myself. So I'm back...with some funny student stuff, and a short photo essay that illustrates my week. Enjoy.

*Weird side note: I told the students exactly how much work they needed to do for an a/b/c/d/f and it was amazing at how many students elected to get a b/c of their own free will! Especially because if they'd used one or two more words in context correctly, they'd have gotten an A....

Student Research:

Who are you researching? Ellen Degeneres
What have they done to make a positive change? Well, she's gay. So obviously she supports gay right.

Who are you researching? Abraham Lincoln
What have they done to make a positive change: Tried to end slavery (and kill every vampire in America).

Best one-liners from the vocab story-quizzes:

- Then all of a sudden my excitement abated when my friend got pissed.
- My sister and I were vexed by the malevolent George Bush.
- The malevolent and languid man, who was the epitome of a behemoth, woke up in his scintillating, yet derelict, house feeling vexed - though it was nebulous as to why; his ephemeral temper about this subject shortly abated when he got up, absconded with his roomates wallet and usurped the ring of power from Sauron.
(Yes, that 7th grader really wrote every word in one sentence).

Most common sentence used:
It was behemoth.

The music video we watched and analyzed this week (which became a huge hit and now my students walk around singing it):

The video that got the most smart phones taken away this week:


My week in photos:

Word of the Day: Languid

If you would have walked by my window at around 6 pm yesterday evening, you would have found me cross-legged on the floor, sobbing over a stubbed toe.

But the tears weren't really about the stubbed toe at all. I was crying because it was - as they say - the straw that broke the camel's back.

I'd had a rough day. Week...2 weeks. I've been having a rough few weeks. Your first year of teaching is no joke...

Anyway, yesterday I had a substitute teacher. The whole English department did! We were on a "data retreat" where we spent the whole day in a long meeting about MYP, IEP's, GTT, IB, FI...WTF? IDK.

In the afternoon, there was some planning time. So that was nice.

As I was saying, it was a long day. I walked away from it feeling this much more inadequate and that much more like I'm breaking all my students, and ever so slightly irked that my life has seemingly disappeared. School, home + chores, grading, sleep, school!

And then I stubbed my toe. I'd had enough! So I cried for an hour without being able to articulate why. In fact, I couldn't articulate anything at all.

So as you can imagine, I got ready for work this morning in a languid fashion. I was unsure of how I would reign in my already rambunctious kids after a day-long-party with a sub. But when I walked into my room, I was greeted with a blackboard filled with drawings like this:

(this one is actually a few days old, but I forgot to take pictures of the ones today).

They said things like, "We miss you Ms. Hansen - period 1" and "Tristen loves Ms. Hansen" and "we love you!" and "Ms. Hansen is the most awesome teacher ever."

When they actually arrived in classes I found out that the sub:
1.) called a student in first hour (my perfect class) a slut. uhm...what?
2.) made her own rules despite me leaving her our class norms.
3.) referred to herself as the rockstar sub.
4.) allowed students in 6th hour to get into a physical altercation that left other students feeling unsafe.

Needless to say, the students were happier than ever to see me. There were many requests that I "never, ever leave again."

Of course, they felt differently at the end of the hour. But that doesn't stop them from drawing hearts for me. <3 p="p">

To Teach

To remind myself why I'm doing this:

Hey Teacher! How You Sound?

I am looking through the students' binders before I actually grade them. Kind of a "first reading" - if you will - so that I don't get distracted while I grade. Here are the gems so far:

Things that helped my students:

This most helpful thing was the word of the day because instead of just you telling it to us, we used it in sentences.

I like how you eased in to homework. It helped a lot. I think we can now get a little more since now I am used to it.

I liked that you gave us the T.S. Eliot poem because it was challenging.

I like that you let me draw what's in my mind when I'm having trouble writing it. 

You helped us by showing us pictures.

This week, I'd like more time to write in class. I found it helpful that you often had directions on the board as well as saying them. 

Examples of hyperbole:

He's so cheap, he licks other peoples fingers at KFC.

My teacher is so nice, she should win the Nobel Peace Prize.

My teacher is so tall, she bumps her head on the moon.

Examples of personification:

The eraser hungrily ate up the chalky letters, his appetite never satisfied and always ready to try new things without hesitation.

Favorite misspellings of the week:

wore : whore
neighbor: neybior

I Can Tell That We Are Gonna Be Friends.

School has been in session now for 7 days (I subtracted the weekend/holiday). Everyday as I am leaving I think to myself, "Gee, Nikki. You really ought to sit down and write about what you're doing. Write about what happened today." So I sit down. I grab a pen. I open my laptop.

Whatever.

I try to write, but nothing comes.

Okay. That's a lie. Lots of things come to mind when I sit down to write, but I can't put the words together in a fine, prose-like fashion. If I let the words loose, they will come out jumbled and jagged. Unruly and loud. They'll slip and stumble instead of aligning neatly.

Actually, that sounds a lot like my 7th graders.

Because I seem to be unable to write everything I'd like to, I'm just going to write a list of the things I have found interesting thus far:

1.) I did not experience any 1st day jitters. None!
2.) A large, stuffed teddy bear can do a lot to calm down energetic children.
3.) My largest class (40) is easier to contain than my 5th hour class (25).
4.) iPods are not the enemy.
5.) Students will still ask you the directions, even after you have had them repeat the steps back to you at least 3 times...
6.) Sometimes, it's more effective to just use a regular speaking voice than it is to yell.

Actually, let's talk about #6. Something crazy fascinating happened in my last hour, today. They were (understandably) unruly. We had a lot to get through, and 3/4 of the class was waiting on 1/4 of the chatty cathy's to shut up. So, instead of yelling, "Quiet down, folks!" I just started using my "normal" voice. I gave the directions, and then started reading the excerpt we were focusing on. The kids who wanted to hear me actually came and stood in a circle around me (a decision they made totally on their own). This really caught the attention of the kids who had been off task, and they came and joined the circle. Soon, everyone was silent and engaged - we were totally able to complete our learning goal.

So there you have it.
The kids are crazy, the expectations are high, and I am exactly where I am supposed to be.

Hey, Teacher.

Chapstick, Chapped Lips and Things Like Chemistry.

I have been a student for 18 years.

This means 18 years of sharpening pencils, trading erasers, passing notes, lunch hour, markers, tape, glue, construction paper, posters, book reports and papers. For 18 years I have walked school hallways, high fived friends, loaded up my binders with pictures and poetry. In 18 years, I have written a novel's length worth of witty comments in the margins of my books. I have signed my name as

Nikki W

Nikki C

Nikki A

Nikki M

Nikki P

Nikki I

Nikki S

Nikki J

and of course, as Nikki Hansen, all on the left hand side of my notebooks, near the coil that holds the paper together. In 18 years I have collected numerous, hilarious drawings of people that I know or knew. Phone numbers. Snide comments. Lightbulb moments. Impromptu poems. 18 years of who I am, how I've grown lives in writing around the edges of my notes.

Oh yes. Notes. For 18 years I have taken notes. The alphabet, times tables, sentence diagrams, mice and men, geometric shapes, musical theory and happy daggers. For 18 years I have had a notebook as a steady companion, with little pockets to hide secrets and house schoolwork in. For 18 years, I have had a fairly predictable routine: waking up, packing my back pack, going to school, doing homework.

I cannot remember life as anything but a student. Sitting in desks, staring at chalk boards...then white boards...overheads, then projectors. A place to put my lunch and hang my coat. My best friends sitting next to me, keeping me distracted from the schoolwork I love almost as much as I love them.

Naturally, the fact that in May I will formally leave the structure in which my whole life has taken place scares the hell out of me. Or maybe it scares hell into me. I'm not sure which.

Either way, I feel a little ridiculous. Every time I pick up my green four subject notebook, I get a little emotional. I know that it is the last notebook I will own as a student seeking some form of degree. I can see the bright light shining - telling me that, soon, the page will turn and there will be no more curled edges. No more notes to take. No more "I like your pen you" or hearts being drawn, no more swirls or butterflies or "hi's" - no more phone numbers being scrawled across the top of the pages, no more drawings of teachers, cats, bff's holding hands. No more pictures of farmer dan, who has appeared on the pages of my notebook for a steady 10 years. No more snarky remarks written to the person next to me, and no more critiquing the things I like or dislike about the ways my teachers teach.

There will be no more teachers.

I will be the teacher.

I will watch the girls and boys scribble on their notebooks - songs and notes and awful pictures of me and everyone else they know. Poems and signatures of names they hope they never have to change, or someday get to have. I will watch them doodle, and I will let it happen, knowing that they only get to be students for so long and that life is being written on those pages.

I'm Gonna Run Right Up This Hill - Summer Sky or Winter Chill.

Today was my first day at Crosswinds as an actual teacher. Granted, I'm only there teaching a one-week unit as part of an assignment, and it's all very safe and contained....I am still very excited about the whole ordeal.

So, we're teaching our units in groups (I'm paired...or trio'd as it were) with Ali and Teran. Our unit is a print journalism unit, and by the end of the week the kids will have written little articles that we will then put into a class newspaper! We're very excited about it - at least, I know I am very excited about it - which is why I think it hit me so hard when one of the kids told their friend during the passing period that they found the class boring. Seriously. I guess when you put your heart and soul into something, you just want them to love it as much as you do.

I will say that I really enjoyed trying out some "classroom ecology" techniques. My class is a mix of 6, 7 and 8th graders...so getting them (and keeping them) all on task has been pretty difficult....especially because we aren't their regular teachers, they aren't getting graded and... oh...they're all the struggling readers or the students that are falling behind. FURTHERMORE - the broadcasting journalism teacher told one of them that print journalism is boring and useless.

Thanks.

I wish that the students were being held accountable for their work in the class. They really have no incentive to participate.

It was awesome to see the different group dynamics between periods 1 and 2. Group 1 was quieter and a little more difficult to motivate. Group 2 was energetic and full of opinions (and slightly hard to keep on task). Even though it has been one day, it's been interesting to think about how we will have to adjust for the different classes. Tomorrow, I am being recorded for an assignment and I'm pretty nervous about it. But I am also excited to be able to review myself and see what I could be doing better (and also give myself some praise for the things I'm good at).

I wish we had done a better job with making the assignments relavent (just for today). We did some really meaningful activities, but we didn't really bring them full circle. I also think we could have focused the classes attention's a little more. I think we got swept up in the chaos of the first day - by the time I'd realized what we'd done, I couldn't jump in and save us. Our window had passed.

But, there is always tomorrow - and I think it will be a good, productive (and more guided) day.

And this is my theme song:

An Interview with Myself

This is an entry to a log which I am required to keep until Dec 5. Enjoy.

What life experiences have influenced who you want to be as an English teacher?

It's funny, really. When I first started college, I was of the mindset that teachers should pour knowledge into students' brains. I was of the mindset that passive learning was learning, and that was good enough. I suppose I didn't really think it in those exact words, because I hadn't been introduced to terms like 'passive learning' - but I didn't have a problem with the traditional classroom experience. It had worked for me...why wouldn't it work for everyone else?

This, of course, has all changed. My experiences with students, and even with my own siblings, opened my eyes to the fact that lecture style 'learning' doesn't work for everyone. Watching teachers struggle to find ways to reach each of their students inspired me. Watching students succeed because they were given the opportunity to express themselves in different ways softened me at the core. It made me want to be the kind of teacher who would be able to provide a classroom where all students, with their various learning styles and forms of expression and opinions and backgrounds and whatever else they bring to the class, would have a place where they could learn in a thoughtful and productive way.

I suppose my exposure to various educational theory and content, as well as my experiences with students, would really be the major influences as to why I want to be who I want to be.

What do you believe is the purpose of English as a discipline?

How does one even begin to answer that question? I feel like English teachers not only teach the fundamentals (grammar, writing, reading skills), but also everything else under the moon. This includes: social skills, respect, how to interact with the various medias students are exposed to, critical thinking skills, creative writing skills, analytic skills and more. Beyond that, English class isn't just for novels anymore. It's a place where students learn to connect with the world they live in.

Why teach literature in middle and secondary schools?

Literature is powerful. Through literature, students are able to experience things they wouldn't have ever experienced. Through literature, students experience the world from different perspectives. They connect with and learn from situations they read. Literature can help students through their personal issues when nothing else can reach them. Providing literature to students of this age can be a powerful tool in changing/challenging the way they think about and experience the world. In some way, I feel like providing students with literature keeps them from having to learn things the hard way...while still getting the experience. I'm sure that sounds naive, but that's how I like to think about it.

English Major on strike.

I think I should have stuck with dental school.
One more semester of science and math classes and I could apply.

I always loved the idea of being a dentist. I am good enough to be a dentist. I'm even smart enough.

Truth be told - I'm tired of defending my major.

Person: "What are you going to school for?"
Me: "English."
Person: "...Oh."
Me: "and secondary education."
Person: "You want to be a teacher!"
Me: "yes."
Person: "I have a friend like you. She's in Med School."

....

I feel like it's never good enough - the English major. The teaching plan. I'm tired of feeling ashamed and inadequate - like somehow being an English teacher is an unworthy cause.

Sometimes the convos go:
Person: "What's your major?"
Me: "English... and secondary ed."
Person: "You know, 3 out of every 5 teachers doesn't make it through the first 5 years. They quit or work outside the realm of education."

-----
What are you trying to say? That you think I'm one of them? That I'm not strong, smart, tall, bold or brave enough? What will make you happy, people?

Maybe I will just go to dental school... and when I do - you better hope you don't end up at my practice. I might just forget to inject your lips with lidocaine.

Rah!

I bet you didn't know.

I bet you'd never guess that I, some alien behind a Macbook, am a writer. Even more surprisingly, a painter, a singer, a flute and piano player and one helluva cook.

I am sitting here, next to an empty plate. I made the perfect pavlova earlier. The larger part of it looks slightly sad now, sitting cut in half on a cookie sheet.... but it won't have to worry much longer. Soon, it will be gone... joyfully eaten by all who pass by.

Poor poor pavlova.

Pavlova makes me think of my friend. Take away the "a" at the end, and you've got him. He's an interesting fella. I dunno if he'd actually consider me a friend... but my guess is... well, yeah, probably. I don't usually tell people all my secrets the first time I hang out with him - but that's what I did. He knows me better than a lot of people. I wonder if he can remember all the things I said. It's probably better for him to forget. You're probably confused, but that's okay - it's not for you to know.

School is starting up again. Back to school.... back to school :/ ... yuck. To be honest, school and I have never been great friends. I hate it, it hates me. I have no real motivation to impress teachers, and frankly, they don't really want to be impressed. If I write a sucky paper it doesn't mean they aren't getting paid. They don't care. Why should I? Oh ... because it's my future? Hmm. Well, I could always drop out 3/4 of the way through and go to Le Cordon Bleu. I'd love to cook for a living. People don't sigh or moan when you hand them the perfect piece of pineapple upside down cake or serve them a homemade chicken pot pie.
People DO moan and sigh when you say, even with enthusiam, "today we are going to diagram sentences" or when you hand them Lord of the Flies. I am going to be the enemy... and at the end of the day people will find refuge with their hot meals and tasty desserts and curse my name.

I think my younger brother is trying to imitate an elephant seal.
I better go watch.