I miss…

I have finally cracked and am ready to admit (mostly to myself) that I miss my students. I was fraying at the edges; I heaved a sigh of relief at the chance to just breath without having lessons to plan and teach and assessments to mark. I left for March Break, just like they did, expecting to see one another in 2 weeks. 

It’s been 6 weeks since any of us have stepped into the hallowed halls of the school, sat in my classroom or seen one another in person. As much as I do not want to admit it, it does not seem like we will be going back to the physical environment of school until after this school year 2019-20 is over. 

My heart is heavy.

I miss..my classroom

The sunlight streams in the neat and tidy room. It is either too hot or too cold. The windows are so old that they don’t actually close properly. There is chalk everywhere, including my hands and pants. I’ve tried to “decorate” it, but it’s a high school classroom and teenagers seem to think you’re lame if you do too much to make it look like an elementary school. 

However, there are aspects of the room that they do not actually appreciate until they learn something or “see” it and make a connection. 

In my classroom, I work to build strong relationships with my students by focusing on connections. My classroom is a space where students encourage each other to try new challenges and cheer each other on, and even give each other a ribbing when they say or do something ridiculous. 

I miss…building relationships

At first, many of them don’t know me. They think they know me, because they’ve “heard” about me from the rumours and the stories or from my reputation, but they don’t really know me. Just like, I don’t know them. It takes time for us to get to know one another. Sometimes day, sometimes weeks, but usually before the end of the year, we have become a cohesive unit, a family of sorts.

They’ve learned to appreciate me as a teacher. They now know what I’m like – what my idiosyncrasies are, what drives me bonkers, how I run my classroom, when I’m kidding around and when I expect more. 

I’ve learned who they are – when something confuses them, when it makes sense, when they need to laugh, when they need to know I’m proud of their accomplishment and when they want me to know they are struggling. I see it in their faces, in their body language. I hear it in what they say and more so, in what they don’t.

I have said to my students that if the pandemic had happened in September, this whole online teaching forum would not work for me, because we would not have a relationship to fall back on in our understanding of one another. 

I miss…teaching in person

I miss my teacher radar – picking up on body language and the look in their eyes that let me know if they’re struggling with comprehension, aren’t feeling well, didn’t get enough sleep, or are upset about something. I miss using my teacher instinct – knowing pieces of information you don’t even know you know.

When you teach online, you have to flip between windows and applications and sometimes you miss the a-ha moment. No teacher would ever want to give up the a-ha moment. It is what makes the hard work worthwhile. 

Talking to a screen is not fun. It’s a little weird actually.

I hate sitting down so much. I’m not built that way. I have to walk around. Gets the blood moving. It helps my thinking. Keeps me creative. 

I miss…our talks

I love hearing everything they want to share – their hopes, dreams, worries, passions, interests and problems. 

I miss teasing them – the way they dress, the latest craze (which has moved from SnapChat to TikTok), their attempts at dancing, how the pen they are using they picked up in the hallway just before class, just life…

When a teenager wants to share with an adult, I believe you stop everything and listen. They are talking to someone, they are seeking a sounding board, or guidance and they have deemed you worthy of coming to – so you accept the heavy task.

When a teenage boy asks you to come to his *insert sport here* game, you go. Why, you ask? The answer is simple, it is something important to him and he asked you to share in that experience. Whether you go or don’t, he’ll know and it will impact how he sees you in his life.

I miss…the little moments

I took for granted all the “manly” handshakes, thumps on the back, awkward boy hugs, high fives and bad jokes each day. 

I miss the nods in the hallway, from my colleagues who went to grab a cup of coffee, to students who were once in my classroom but not this year.

I miss joking with colleagues in the math office or at the lunch table. I miss talking about last night’s Raptors game. I miss walking into another room and feeling the camaraderie of being a teacher with others I respect. 

I didn’t think I would ever miss these things, but I do. Why didn’t I appreciate these more?

I miss…traditions

I’m grieving for missed milestones: long-anticipated field trips, Batt Ball (aka Prom), Arts and Athletics assemblies and of course, the Leaving Class Ceremony. There is nothing that I, or anyone else, can say to make up for those moments and memories you are losing in what is supposed to be your last year as a high school student. 

So, what do I do?

I tell my students that I appreciate that they come to virtual class every day.

I tell my students that I miss them too. 

I let them know it’s okay to be sad and to miss being at school (even when they say it’s “weird” to miss school). 

I do what I know how to do as a teacher: I acknowledge that what we are going through is hard right now, I reassure them that this is temporary and if we do what the experts tell us to do, we will all get through this, I listen to what they want to share, and keep our class moving along, because remember, my class isn’t just a math class, it’s a life class.

Sao Paulo – Leader’s Quest

4 days jam-packed with experiences that spanned favelas and penthouses. I don’t know if I’ll do it justice in trying to explain it, but bear with me as I try to find the words.

We, literally, kicked off the Quest at Pequeninos do Jockey (PDJ) – a widely recognized soccer club in Sao Paulo that trains Brazil’s future stars. Founded in 1970 by Jose Guimaraes Junior, PDJ boasts the most coveted team of amateur players from underprivileged and elite backgrounds alike, who have trained more than 200,000 youth over the past 45 years. We visited the training grounds, met the founder who is a spry 81 years old, and spent time playing a friendly game (the boys were quite polite in playing with some teachers) and talking to the players (who wanted to know what winter in Toronto was like).

Our dinner was with leaders from Sao Paulo’s business, social enterprise, and not-for-profit sectors. They shared their personal stories, insights and perspectives on the socio-economic, political and cultural fabric of the country over slices of pizza (which they eat with a fork and knife).

Our first full day entailed separate groups and mine went to visit Etel Interiors. It was a luxury furniture workshop and showroom inspired by Brazilian modern design and indigenous woods. Lissa Carmona, CEO of the family business and daughter to Etel Carmona, the creator of the company, spent the morning with us, discussing their deep commitment to making woodworking a respectable and desirable profession, creating artisans who are proud of their work, and building a sustainable business.

The entire time, I thought my brother would have loved and respected the furniture, the time spent in creating it, the dedication of the workers and the beauty of the product. I was impressed by the women I met and the challenges they faced and the opportunities that they have created for the people they work and interact with.

My afternoon was spent at CDI (Committee for Democracy in Information Technology), an NGO that has, for the past two decades, been on the forefront of of using technology to create social change in communities. Since 2013, Brazil has been one of the top five global markets for smartphones and over half of its population has access to the internet. CDI is using digital inclusion to empower young people to use technology as a force for good. It provides courses in IT and citizenship for youth and teacher training programmes in public schools to bring technology into classrooms. I met some amazing youth who have created apps that left me in awe. I would love to think that my own students could create something so inspiring and moving that would change the world one click or tap at a time.

That evening we went to a traditional Brazilian Churrascaria, Fogo de Chao, beef galore and it was perfectly seasoned and dished out.

The second day we spent time with children, visiting communities and the local public school to gain insights into Brazil’s mainstream education system and the everyday lives of teachers and students. My group visited Estrela Nova, a community movement for holistic development. Born in 1980 in Campo Limpo, a desperately poor area, to bring hope and new opportunities to a community in need. They built a daycare and kindergarten for 150 children, a recreational center for teenagers and tried to alleviate the strain in the community while still valuing its pride.

That afternoon we went to a secondary school and met teachers, like us, who value the work they do and the students that they teach. We heard about their challenges and listened to them tell us how much they work and how they still feel that it is not enough. I listened to students who told me just how much they appreciate their teachers, but know that they are stretched thin and that the learning that is taking place happens in the streets of the favelas as much as in the classroom. Those teachers are like us. Those students are like the ones we teach. Each of us wants the best. Each of us wants to make a difference. And yet, we all fight to succeed.

From the impoverished neighbourhoods of the favelas and overflowing classrooms of a school, we had dinner at the penthouse home of Helio Mattar, President of the Akatu Institute for Conscious Consumption and co-founder of the Ethos Institute for Business and Social Responsibility. This man was definitely an impressive force to sit at a table with and moved me when he said that we need to always be true to ourselves, regardless of the fact that being authentic or emotional may be seen as undesirable by others.

My final day was spent entrenched in experiencing the housing shortfall in Brazil. An estimated 6 million people – city migrants and skyrocketing rents are main reasons why thousands are made homeless each year. The movement organizes squatter settlements by occupying unused plots and abandoned buildings in the city center. I stood in one of these occupied buildings, and in the “rooms” of a family with 6 daughters ranging from 6 months to 17 years, and a 3 year old grandchild and wondered how this was even possible?  The richest 10% of Brazilians enjoy 50% of the country’s income and the poorest 10% receive less than 1% – how can they possibly have aspirations, let alone livelihoods and priorities?

The entire experience has left me with a lot to think about. Some of which I’m not even sure I’ve processed completely; however, regardless of everything that I saw, Brazil left me with the sense that its people are some of the most loving people in the world.

The Finish Line

There is no tired like end of year teacher tired. Most of us are just trying to make it to the finish line. We’ve slogged through stacks of marking and handed everything back. We’ve made our exam review packages and are carefully crafting the final exam to basically watch our students’ faces contort in agony (at least, that’s what they believe). Tag on to that the fact that we are basically dragging our students across that same finish line, and they aren’t always cooperative about it.

Meanwhile, our cup of caring is on the last dregs. You see, we’ve given you (our students) everything we have. We’ve taught you, cheered you, scolded you, shouldered you, cajoled you, chastised you, pushed you, pulled you and even shaken our heads at you wondering what the heck you’re up to. We have reached the point that we wonder if we’ve done enough, if there is more we can give, and if so, what the heck is it?

And then, there is a moment. When it happens, you stand in awe and sometimes can do nothing more than let the moment wash over you. This year’s moment happened as I left the movie theatre on Sunday of the long weekend (an unusual setting). I was headed back to my car and I heard my name, not Fatima, but that of my alter ego, Ms. Remtulla. I froze. The thought “was I doing anything un-teacher-like?” flew across my brain. A car drove up next to me and the young man in the driver seat said my name again. I stared. Literally stared. My brain sifted through the filofax teachers store of past students’ names. He said his name, and I was like, yes, of course. We had a lovely, yet short, conversation where he told me that his life was good, he was happy, school was great etc. He asked me about my work. He introduced me to his sister in the passenger seat as “his high school math teacher” and I beamed with pride. He didn’t have to acknowledge me or call my name, as I wouldn’t have seen him otherwise, but it is the fact that he did that makes it all the more poignant.

Once we parted, I continued toward my car and was completely bursting. I was so happy to hear he was doing well, that he was thankful for what I’d done for him in the past, that he remembered me, that I’d made an impact.

I needed that moment. I can now make it to the finish line.

Elevate your (Basketball) Game

After taking a couple of weeks to step back from our U14 Basketball season this year, I am finally ready to take time to reflect on it.

Before I even get into the season itself, let me share some praise:

1. First, I had a lot of fun coaching this year, something that I’d been missing. Coaching with a colleague that you already get along with makes the time commitment to the sport easy.  JJ and I had the best time together, sharing our prior basketball experiences, drills, coaching styles, laughs and oh so much more.
2. Second, we had the most amazing BBC parent and team parents. I have never seen such support for an U14 team. Our parents came out to every home game, most made it to our away games, and a handful came to our tournament in Ottawa. I was in awe of their unwavering support, the way that they encouraged all the boys, not only their son, and the way they supported JJ and myself. They supported our decisions during practice, on the court and off the court. That respect and kindness meant so much to us. Thank you.
3. Third, and perhaps the most important, was our team of boys.  They were great, fun-loving and hard-working basketball players.

JJ and I have both coached many teams in our time. We’ve taken our share of school buses, coach buses and trains.  We’ve brought home championships and taken kids to tournaments. We’ve also had heartbreak and faced loss.

Let me put into perspective something about our team – at the beginning of the season, only 2-3 boys were taller than my measly 5’3″. This does not favour well in basketball, especially when you face monsters who are 6′ at the age of 13 or 14. This was one challenge that we could do nothing about except wait for time to pass and pray that they got taller.

We’d won almost all our games during the season (except for three in total, two against St. Mikes and a one-point loss to Sterling Hall) and were headed into the quarter final game having beat that team by 15 points during the season. We weren’t overly confident (read cocky), but excited knowing that this match would be something we could win after all the skills we’d gained over the year and knew we had a good shot at the semis and finals.

And then the game happened – we just couldn’t seem to get a play going without getting called for a foul, we’d go for a loose ball and get called for fouling, or we’d get called for traveling. Now before I digress into a pit of fury about these calls, I will tell you that we lost in the final seconds of the game 33-31. JJ and I stood there stunned. Our boys were stunned as well, but their disbelief immediately melded with their sadness as the realization that their season was over slowly sank in.

No one lost their temper. No one got called for a technical. No one screamed at the referees.  No one was ungentlemanly or un-sportsmanlike.

Yes, we had boys cry. Yes, we had parents who were in disbelief. Yes, we as coaches were dumb-founded but we knew that our boys were looking to us for our lead. We held our heads high, we told them truthfully just how much they meant to us, just how proud we were of the way they played, that they never gave up, and they kept playing regardless of what was happening. We told them that they had grown as players and as boys and that they contained strength of character that was to be respected and admired.

We loved our time with this team and we hope to see them on the court again very soon.

Burp

Today, my back was turned to the class as I wrote a few examples of inequalities on the board, some student let out a burp.

I paused for a second, craning my neck so that I could hear the “excuse me” that should have followed but didn’t.

I turned around. I raised an eyebrow and my voice questioning my students as to who decided to be impolite by not apologizing for their ungentlemanly behaviour.  Silence was the only response I received.  I waited.  I stared around the room, the Year 1 boys slowly began to squirm in their chairs. I continued to wait. I really do feel that a simple act of apology would have sufficed, yet, no one owned up to it. I decided that if they could not act as gentlemen, then they would lose the privilege of being dismissed at the end of class and work during recess.

I know that some of my colleagues who think I’m very strict will be laughing as they read this. I also know that my Year 1 students who did not commit the offense may think my repercussion was unfair; however, I do believe that learning the lesson about owning up to one’s behaviour and being respectful to others in the room are good lessons to learn.

I don’t think there will be any burping in my classroom any time soon.

Slang Throwdown

Recently, one of my IB1 Math Studies students asked me what my favourite slang word was. This had me thinking for a few days. Admittedly, working with teenagers, I tend to use slang words, or pick up on their terminology since I spend so much time with them. However, I don’t like all of them, nor do I understand the context of all of them or they just seem plain silly, but that could be entirely because I’m now considered “old” and it’s not my generational slang time period.

Sometimes, the new slang word is something that is just a modification of an old phrase – the perfect example is YOLO (you only live once), which I dislike and much prefer the original CARPE DIEM (seize the day). Don’t mess with the best, or you’ll die like the rest (had to throw that in there).

The Huffington Post just wrote about the Slang Words of 2014 and some of them evade me, others I know I’ve heard in the hallways of my school. Take a look and see how many you know, have heard, or use yourself.

A Teacher’s Winter Wishlist

One of the benefits of teaching is when your students acknowledge your presence and impact on their lives. It usually happens around the winter break mark (if you’re lucky) or at the end of the year.  Sometimes, it’s in the form of a gift or sometimes a card (this is a big ask from a boy, let me tell you); however, this is really what teachers want:

1. From my administrators – Respect. Trust me, I know what I’m doing. Help me do my best by supporting me, standing by me, cheering me on, rallying for me and guiding me. With your support, I can do anything.
2. From my colleagues – Respect. We are all in this together. Let’s share our ideas, our excitement, our plans and our shared desire for our students to succeed.
3. From my students’ parents – Respect. I want your child to succeed. Sometimes your child may not like me very much and that’s ok. I’m not here to be your child’s best friend. My job is to help him to learn and to leave my classroom better educated than when he arrived. That doesn’t mean just with math computation, calculation and formulation, but also life lessons that he can implement as a human being and a man. I can’t do it alone. I need your support. Talk to me about how we can work together to make things better for your child.
4. From my students – Respect. Listen carefully, please. Cell phones down. Eyes up front. Pencils at the ready. I have knowledge to share, and we have learning to do – together. I want you to succeed. The only reason I come to school everyday is because of you. I am always thinking about ways to help you, ways to engage you through interesting and relevant lessons plans. I want what is best for you. If you got a 65% on your report card, it is not because I hate you. It’s because that is the mark you earned this term. And I promise you, I will do everything I can to help you improve but you need to do your part too.

   Try a card. A simple note of thanks. Acknowledgement and respect – it’ll do wonders.

Pausing for Polytechnique

The Canadian parliament proclaimed December 6 as the National Day of Remembrance and Action on Violence Against Women and in an effort to get Upper Canada College Upper School students to appreciate its importance, teacher Carl Beaudoin (French teacher, Hockey Coach, and respected by students and staff alike) delivered an impassioned plea to the boys as part of the assembly in Weston Hall on Monday morning.

Before he began speaking, they showed this spirit shattering clip:

Here are excerpts of Beaudoin’s speech: 

“For 45 minutes on Dec. 6, 1989 at École Polytechnique, an enraged gunman roamed the corridors, saying, ‘You women have no right to be here. Entering a classroom, he separated the men from the women and, before opening fire on the classroom of female engineering students, he screamed, ‘I hate feminists!’  He then systematically killed 14 young women.” Beaudoin listed their names and ages.

“The ‘Montreal Massacre’ happened 25 years ago and immediately became a moment that transcended grief into outrage about all violence against women…The killer learned that violence was the way to relate to women who, he believed, were responsible for his own pain and failures. He held a set of values that still many Canadians hold: that women are not worth as much as a man; that women don’t belong in certain jobs/places/roles; that women are somehow taking over things when men should be in control.”

“I think we need to examine the root causes of gender-based violence and create a cultural shift that helps bring us to a future without violence — a vision for masculinity that embodies the best qualities of being human. Where the comment ‘Be a man!’ refers to the freedom to cry, the ability to understand, communicate and self-regulate emotions, to be empathetic, nurturing and loving.”

The boys and teachers at UCC are participating in the White Ribbon Campaign – the wearer making a public pledge never to commit, condone or remain silent about violence against women. White Ribbon’s philosophy is that, while not all men are responsible for committing violence against women, all men and boys must take responsibility for helping end it. Wearing a white ribbon is both a personal and a collective statement that our future has no violence against women. It is not an act of collective guilt, but rather an act of collective caring and love for women in our lives.

Beaudoin moved the entire auditorium and spurred on other remembrance activities that would take place including a massive morning yoga session to enlighten the boys and learn to embrace the ideologies of mindfulness and self-control, often stereotyped as female. It ended with the instructor warmly suggesting to the boys that they honour the women in their life.

Teacher Pet Peeves

I know a lot of teacher and professors and there are things that drive all of us bonkers!!  Here are the results: some of the “don’ts” for how to interact with your teacher or professor.  For what it’s worth, #2 was by far the most common complaint.

1. Don’t use unprofessional correspondence.

Your instructors are not your friends. Speak to them as though they are your teacher and respect that relationship. Learn how you to interact with a teacher face-to-face and via email.  We expect to be addressed, we expect that you’ll not only present a problem or situation in the correspondence, but also a potential solution or two.

I am a stickler for this one – in fact, I tell my students on the first day of school what an email to me should look like.  I’ve found over the years, that these clear guidelines have helped my students and I to communicate better with one another as they know what my expectations are.

2. Don’t ask the teacher if you “missed anything important” during an absence.

No, you didn’t miss anything important.  In fact, I was so sad that you were missing, that we didn’t do anything at all! Of course you missed something important!  We are teachers and we teach!  Thinking everything we do is important is an occupational hazard.

If you’re concerned about what you missed, try this instead: Get notes from a classmate, read them over, take them down into your own notebook and make notes or write questions for the material you don’t understand, and drop by for extra help to discuss it.  Check Haiku for any homework or additional information that may have been posted.

3. Don’t pack up your things as the class is ending.

We get it.  The minute hand is closing in on the end of class, there’s a shift in the instructor’s voice, and you hear something like “For next class…”  That seems to be the cue for everyone to start putting their stuff away. Once one person does it, it’s like an avalanche of notebooks slapping closed, backpack zippers zipping, and cell phones coming out.

Don’t do it.  Just wait 10 more seconds until the class is actually over. I get it what you are doing and why, but it is so frustrating to see students packing up when I’m still giving instructions.

Trust me, we appreciate that you respect us enough to wait until we are done speaking.  Also, it prevents me from having to answer the same question about what I was saying that you missed while you were packing up.

4. Don’t get mad if you receive critical feedback.

If an instructor takes a red pen and scribbles all over your work, that’s a sign that they care.  Giving negative feedback is hard work, so the red ink means that we’re taking an interest in you and your future.  We do it because we care enough about you to try to help you become a stronger student and thinker.

Some teachers have even taken to using a different colour aside from red to make it easier psychologically. I still gravitate toward red.

5. Don’t grade grub.

Definitely go see a teacher to find out how to study better or improve your performance, but don’t go in expecting to change your instructor’s mind about the grade.   Put your energy into studying harder on the next exam, listening and participating in class. That will have more of a pay-off in the long run.

6. Don’t futz with paper formatting.

Paper isn’t long enough?  Think you can make the font a teensy bit bigger or the margins a tad bit wider? Think the teacher won’t notice?  We’ve been staring at explorations, essays or written submissions for thousands of hours. We have an eagle eye for this nonsense. Work on the assignment, not the document settings.

7. Don’t be too cool for school.

You know those students that sit at the back of the class, hunch down in their chair, and make an art of looking bored or distracting others from paying attention in class?  Don’t be that person.  Teachers and Professors are the top 3% of students.  They likely spent more than a decade in places of higher learning. To stay on their good side, you should show them that you care too.

I may have more to add in the future, but this is what I’ve got for now…