Teacher Evaluations

This summer, all the teaching staff at my school went through a mandatory two-week training on a new teaching methodology for Language Arts. It's called the ECRI program, which stands for Exemplary Center for Reading Instruction. We were trained personally by the woman who developed the program, Dr. Ethna Reid (I think it's cool that she directs a reading program and her name is Reid...anyway...). In a nutshell, it's a direct instruction program (that means the teacher memorizes a script that can be used in several ways, and the students are instructed to give responses at certain times and their answers, if they listen closely and are doing what they should, are always right 100% of the time. That means I spent much of my summer memorizing directives (teaching instructions) and learning all about this program and how to appropriately integrate these things into my Language Arts classroom. Additionally, the implementation of this program dictates that all students spend two hours per day in Language Arts (with the exception of Wednesday...only an hour and a half).

This past week was our sixth week of school, so Dr. Reid came to our school yesterday to see for herself how we're doing the program after six weeks in school. However, it would be impossible for her to visit every single class going on. So what happens? You guessed it...my class was one of seven chosen to be observed by Dr. Reid for 40 minutes. Now, this amazing woman has spent decades developing and perfecting the program she created from scratch. She's in her eighties, I believe, but her mind is very sharp and she doesn't skip a beat. That means Dr. Reid knows her program frontwards and backwards, every directive word for word, and everything that ought to be done in a classroom that is doing ECRI. So you can imagine my anxiety and stress levels on Friday. I was told on Wednesday that I'd be observed by Dr. Reid, so I actually had about two full days to ponder my success (or lack of) in implementing the program in my classroom. Up to this week, I thought I'd been doing a pretty good job, for the most part. But then as I looked up directives given verbatim in the instructional manuals we were given this summer, I noticed all the little things I was doing wrong, and began to freak out.

Then Friday comes. If you read my last post, then you know how my morning was. When Dr. Reid finally came to my classroom, I had a weird feeling...I was nervous, but also confident at the same time. I knew that I was doing my best, my kids were performing their best, and things were going as planned. When it was time for Dr. Reid to visit another class, she asked if she could interrupt for a minute, and praised the class (and me, to my embarassment) for our success in the program. Something kind of funny...right after Dr. Reid left the room, one of my students turned to me and said my face looked ruddy. It's funny because one of the words I taught them this week was ruddy, which means a healthy, lively red color in someone's face. After she left, I was so proud of my children that I let them out for a 20-minute recess : ) . After school we had a staff meeting where Dr. Reid talked with us about some things she noticed, and she specifically mentioned how I did a great job and the kids were so bright. While she was observing us, I had the kids read some of their stories from their writing notebooks. They are supposed to write stories using as many new spelling words as possible in the correct context. After class, Dr. Reid asked if I could photocopy a story that one of my students wrote. I was proud, and that one student was very proud that he was being recognized. All in all, it wasn't nearly as bad as I thought it would be, and I found that I shouldn't doubt my abilities so much. It's nice to hear that you're doing a good job as a teacher.

TGIF?

After a long week of school, students, parents, grading, and staff meetings, it is finally Friday, a teacher's favorite time of the week. Time to relax, right? Well, I was fooled too. Yesterday morning, I made the mistake of sleeping in an extra 15 minutes and had to rush out the door to make it to school at a reasonable time. It usually takes me about 20 minutes to get to school...10 minutes actually getting to the freeway from my house, and then 10 minutes on the freeway (my school is about 30 seconds away from the American Fork offramp, fortunately). Since BYU school has started, getting to the freeway has been that much more difficult. Students are walking all over the place so you have to stop every 5 yards to let someone cross the street, and the roads are packed with students trying to get a somewhat close spot in the overcrowded parking lots. So after about 10 minutes, I'm almost to the freeway, having endured the never-ending student pedestrians and million-bazillion cars. The onramp is in sight, and I exhale a sigh of relief: I'll make it to school 10 minutes before classes start...not ideal, but hey, it's enough time to get the essentials taken care of before class.

I'm watching in the distance the final stoplight before the onramp, seeing that it's red...perfect. By the time I get there, it will be green and I can cruise on through and onto the freeway. As I drive on, I notice a man walking on the ill-marked crosswalk. I quickly judge that this man far enough away that my car is in no danger of hitting this pedestrian. I remember the rule that I learned in traffic school a year ago: the "halfway rule." This rule, provided by the police officer running the traffic school, states that regarding one's obligation to yield to pedestrians, one may pass through if the pedestrian has not yet walked halfway across the street and onto your side of the road. In this instance, the man using the crosswalk had not yet passed the halfway point. There were five lanes to intersect, from his point of view: two lanes heading east, then a turning lane, and finally two other lanes heading west. At the time I crossed over the crosswalk, the man was just beginning to pass in front of the turning lane. I was in the far right lane...meaning, the man was three whole lanes away from me. I had no sooner driven across the crosswalk that Provo police sirens went off and pulled not just me, but two vehicles. The woman in the car behind me also drove through the crosswalk.

Well, to make a long story short, this extremely rude cop issued a citation (I don't know if a citation and ticket are the same thing...we'll see, I guess) to both me and the other driver. I had no time to present an argument to the officer because I was busy trying to call my school and let them know I'd be late and would need a substitute to cover my first class that day, as well as keep myself from crying (unsuccessfully...I'm not a baby, but the stresses of the week and the utter unfairness of the situation were too much for me to take). The officer didn't take the time to ask why I was in such a hurry, or where I was headed, or what my point of view was as the driver. He simply instructed me to sign a sheet of paper saying that I will appear in court, and then left me with "have a nice day." Thanks.

Something fishy

About a week and a half ago, Thomas and I were browsing through the meat section as Smith's. Usually we go to Macy's for our meat because they have the better meat prices, but we were at Smith's for breads and canned goods and stuff and just happened to notice that they had a few things on sale. We happened upon some Red Snapper that was on sale, so we bought it. I really like fish, and Thomas really enjoyed a Red Snapper dish we had while on our honeymoon cruise. When we got home we put it in the fridge, intending to eat it the next day, since that night's meal was already planned.

When the next day came, so did Tom's mom, who helped us with peach and nectarine canning all weekend. Let me tell you, canning takes up the entire kitchen...stove, oven, sink, counters...EVERYTHING!! So the red snapper didn't happen the next two days while we canned like crazy. Then the next day, I didn't feel like cooking so we went out to eat. Finally, the next day, we remember that the snapper is still in the fridge, and fish is something that you want to use up quickly. Sidenote: I'm trying to lose weight and have been working out at Gold's Gym for the past few months...to help with that, our trainer has recommended that we not eat our meals past 8:30pm so the food doesn't sit in our stomachs undigested or partially digested while we sleep. Anyway...that night it was already 7:45 when we discovered that our snapper was still in the fridge. Snapper takes a while to prepare and to cook, so at that point it was too late to start cooking it. But when we took it out of the paper wrapping, it smelled a bit fishy. Not too bad, but kinda fishy. We were afraid that the snapper would go bad in the next 24 hours, so we put it in the freezer, feeling proud of ourselves for preserving the now semi-fresh fish. Well, something we didn't think about was the fact the fish fillets were all mushed together in a giant lump when the package is all folded and rolled up, so the snapper froze that way in the freezer. When I took it out of the freezer the next day, I held a solid ice-clump of fish.

I desperately tried to thaw it by letting the fish mass sit under running cold water, but to no avail. All I got was a fleshy outside and a still-icy, rock-hard nucleus. At this point, I put the snapper in the fridge, anticipating that the cooler temperature will naturally thaw the fish without it going bad because it's still quite cold and icy. The next day, it was still as icy as before, which really frustrated me because any other kind of meat usually thaws in the fridge within a day or two. So, I thought, let's leave it in the fridge one more day to thaw completely. Next day...a little fleshier, but still frozen solid in the middle. So I let it sit in the fridge for one more day. Meanwhile, Tom and I get a nice whiff of old fish every time we open the fridge. Finally, tonight, Thomas and I take a look at the fish, which is now completely thawed out. On the downside, though, the fish smells nasty! Not only that, but while sitting in our fridge, it leaked out some yucky sticky fish juice all over the shelf. Eeeewww! Luckily, tomorrow is trash day, so we simply rewrapped the nasty disintegrating fish, wrapped it in a Smith's grocery bag, and threw it in the trash barrel.

Tom feels really bad because he HATES wasting food, and it was he who first insisted on getting the fish. As for me, I'm glad to be done with it. It's been like a burden hanging over me for the past week and a half, and now I can rest in peace (along with my nose). Moral of the story: buy fish only if you can eat it that night, or the next night AT THE LATEST!

"Legal" Woes

So Thomas and I will be going to Greece next year with my 8th grade students on an educational trip (yay!). My passport is still good for another few years, but I thought I may as well get a new passport issued with my married name. In order for me to get a new passport issued, I need to update my Social Security record. For some reason, I hadn't done this a long time ago when Tom and I were first married. So, now I'm trying to get my name changed on all my important governmental records. Today is the second time I've visited the Social Security office, and it's the second time I've been told that what I have isn't good enough documentation. First time I went, I thought that simply presenting two driver's licenses (one with my old name and one with my new name) would be sufficient. They told me that I must have my marriage certificate in addition to a driver's license. Today I went again (and even left school 45 minutes early to get to the office before it closed) and showed them our copy of our marriage certificate. Well, apparently, a regular copy isn't good enough. I need to have an "official" certified copy from San Diego County with the cool embossed letters and the shiny bumpy logo on it and stuff. Which means, therefore, that I have to spend $13.00 to get a "real" copy of my own marriage. I'm not trying to take over the world, folks! I just want to have my name changed! I didn't have to show all that stuff to get a Utah driver's license in my married name. Oh, and this is great...listen to this...so my "unofficial" copy of the certificate isn't good enough legal documentation...but, apparently, the cute little certificate that you get from the temple DOES!! But guess what? Thomas and I never picked up the cute little certificate from the temple after we were married! Grrr!!! So yeah, I only have a few months left to get my new passport issued, and I still have to get either a legal copy from the San Diego County Recorder, or get a hold of the San Diego temple and ask them if they have our certificate. We probably won't even have the "proper" documentation in our hands until next week, and our trip is in March. It's cutting it close, since Social Security takes forever to get anything done (I sat in their office for 45 minutes today just to have a 45 second conversation), and then I still need AT LEAST 6 weeks to get my passport information processed and stuff. I love our country and I'm glad we're safe and everything, but for goodness' sake.....I'm not an evil person trying to thwart the system! Just let me use my "unofficial" copy and get it over with. Seriously, it's not like I took the time to alter the text of the thing and pass it off as a real one. I'm just a normal person trying to get these tedious things done so I can move on with the rest of my life. Anyway....I hope I can get these things taken care of in time so I don't have to rush things before our trip.