I've just finished up with my first full school year here in New Zealand. My friends (and co-workers) have been asking how my year was. Some expect a simple statement about whether I liked it or not, but most want a bit more information. I've been trying to find the exact words for my experience and all I can think of is a black cat named Kiesha, aka Psycho.
Kiesha was our neighbour's cat back in Missoula. Our apartment was in a larger house that had been divided into four smaller apartments. We had a shared back yard and got along really well with pretty much all of the tenants. Kiesha belonged to the neighbour right next to us and we dubbed this cat Psycho pretty early on in our tennancy there. Psycho was svelte, mature, black, and had a remarkably good-natured way of approaching you with green pet-me eyes before lacerating your hands on the third or fourth stroke. She was very playful and an all-around good. But psycho.
Psycho loved to ambush all living things. She would hide behind the rose bush next to the walkway between the garage and the house. Sh pounced on everything: people, other cats and the occasional stupid pigeon. One day I had come home from the grocery store and parked the car in the driveway. Groceries in hand I headed for the back door. Having made it past the rose bush I thought is was in the clear until I felt four little paws contact my upper thigh simultaneously. Surprisingly, they came from the direction opposite the rose bush. I turned quickly to see what it was only to find nothing at all to my side, nothing behind me. I did see, however, the final movements of some very recently disturbed branches low down on the rose bush. Psycho had struck again and had made a clean getaway. I was startled to be certain, but unscathed.
This is basically how I feel about last year: startled by a series of not completely unexpected events, but unscathed and enriched by the experience. The year was unexpected in that I had my own notions of what teaching here would be like, mostly informed by my training in Montana. One of the biggest challenges I faced this year was matching up my current school demographic with all of the theory I learned in my University courses. Pretty much everything I learned in Montana had to do with the American demographic. Ideas where couched in the context of a co-ed environment that fostered independent thinking and learning, freedom of "thought-out and reasonable" expression and student directed curricula that teachers for the most part devise on their own. I won't say that these things don't exist in New Zealand, but I will say that they take on a very different form from what I was used to.
For starters, I work in an all-male environment. My classroom management style, consequently, has taken on a much more direct and procedural tone than I would use in a co-ed environment. This also means that students treat me differently than they treat male teachers, for better or worse. I had a group of students who, according to their male homeroom teacher, had a history of ganging up on female teachers in relatively benign ways. This would take the form of figuring out code words that a teacher would likely use and then make a particular noise each time a particular code word was said by the teacher. A number of students confessed to me over the course of the year that they tend to not listen to female teachers as much. "I don't know why, but I just don't," they'd say. Whether this is a result of societal gender rules or the admittedly top-down, highly disciplined nature of the school, cannot be said. What I do draw from this, however, is that many of my classroom management strategies and theories about the teacher-student relationship learned in college now mean exactly squat. I'm adjusting.
Similarly, students here tend to work in groups much more than in the States. Students here grow up with their desks grouped in bunches of four or six, facing inward, until the 8th grade level. They typically work in groups or, when given individual tasks, have ready access to group knowledge when they get stuck. This is a fantastic way to foster group learning skills and a sense of community within the classroom. This has a downside, though. I've noticed that when high school rolls around and students are forced to quietly perform at an individual level (i.e. in exam situations at least three times per year, every year), many students encounter problems that come down to thinking/logic skills and give up. I don't know how many times I've supervised exams where more than half of the class has stopped attempting questions beyond a certain point. The students here know the content but tend to grow up in a communal skill pool that delays their own internalisation of critical thinking, logic, process and editing skills. They don't learn to persist in academic contexts until university.
Consequently, I've had to adjust how much choice and ownership I give students over their personal courses of learning. Most of time that I've tried this style of teaching, the students choose similar projects or problems and then work as a group outside of the classroom to get the assignment done. Very few choose to go off on their own to explore their own ideas. Even fewer read texts and add comments to discussions that start with, "in my opinion..." or some similarly individually-oriented perspective. Most say "_____ is _______, right?" and try to pin down the facts and the "right way of reading the text". Students in my classes had a surprisingly hard time understanding that an essay is essentially arguing a unique or personally-driven idea gleaned from the text. American students jump on any opportunity to tell a teacher what they think. Here, many interpret the "what do you think?" question as, "tell me what the answer is." As a result they are reluctant to answer truthfully for fear of getting the answer wrong when there really is no wrong answer.
When I asked other teachers about this aspect of education in New Zealand, it was mostly the teachers from overseas who had also noticed a lack of confidence in individual skills. These teachers were most keen to discuss with me why they thought this is the case. New Zealand born and bred teachers tended to attribute this lack of intellectual individuality not to learning styles in early and intermediate education, but to the NCEA system currently in place. NCEA is set up such that students must earn a certain number of credits spanning a variety of subjects and levels in order to leave school with a certificate. Depending on what they want to do after high school, they work toward the corresponding certificate level and then leave school once they have it. This may be sometime during Year 12 (11th grade equivalent in the US) or at the end of Year 13 (12 grade). New Zealand teachers have mostly jumped on board with the system, citing that it allows more students to set achievable goals and leave with something they can use. Most also comment, and rightly so in my opinion, that the students are now driven by credits, not the desire to learn the material. In other words, credits are credits, no matter whether you passed with a 60% or a 90%. Therefore, students put as much effort into the course as is needed to get the credits and then move on to the next item on the list. Most teachers acknowledge that this is a major problem for us in our desire to instil in students an appreciation of learning as a life-long skill and joy.
All of these things have changed how I perceive my role as a motivator and facilitator. More often than not last year I found myself asking students what certificate they were aiming for, not what they enjoyed or most understood about the material at hand. This isn't because I don't think the students have a ready answer for the second question, but that the first question always motivated the students to get down to work. Perhaps I was just an idealistic first year teacher who finally had her "grounding in reality" moment. Perhaps I just have a different set of factors to deal with here. It is most likely a combination of the two. All in all I've learned quite a bit about what drives the New Zealand male student in my school and will be able to better meet those needs next year.
Monday, December 17, 2007
Friday, November 23, 2007
Call for Postcards
Our school year is coming to a close and I'm filing away all of those miscellaneous bits of paper, lesson notes, attendance rosters and other detritus that collects on a teacher's desk throughout the year. During the filing process I've developed the habit of putting sticky notes on things that I want to change for the next academic year. Perhaps I'll get to this stuff at the end of this year or maybe it will turn into a project this summer when I'm not so busy. I'm also making plans in case I get my biggest wish for next year: a classroom of my own. This isn't some existential Virginia Woolfe-ian comment on that which I need to create art. A room is an actual, physical want of mine. At the moment I wander around campus teaching my four classes in seven different rooms spread across four different buildings. As you might have guessed, I'm sick of having to cart texts and supplies all over the school.
The biggest problem this mobility created was that my students didn't have a space that felt like it was "theirs." This year we were always using "someone else's" classroom; the walls in our rooms came pre-covered with posters and other students' work by the time we settled into a rooming schedule. We worked around this issue and eventually ended up settling into routines but things never really finished up in a satisfying manner. I didn't get to take student work off the walls and return it to them with a "thanks for letting us use your work this year."
One of the things I'd like to set up in my classroom next year (if I get one) is a display that represents the diversity of students and teachers we have at our school. This year alone I've worked with people from the UK, Canada, New Zealand (both pakeha and Maori), Samoa, Australia, Iraq, Cambodia, Korea, China, Thailand, Croatia, Russia, Scotland, Ireland, India, Germany and other countries that slip my mind at the moment. I made it a habit to know where each of my students came from and they made sure to grill me about America and Montana throughout the year. I learned quite a bit about the rest of the world, as you might have guessed, and this is one of my favourite aspects of my job. One thing that diversity creates is a sense of placelessness. So many of my students, and myself to a certain extent as well, struggle to make sense of what it means to have a history grounded in one culture while both of your feet are ankle-deep in another. All of us needed a way to create a place that truly was ours, even if for one school year.
One way to create this sense of identity and place is with a unique class display: maps covered with tacks to represent points of origin, flags and other such regalia that traditionally represent individual cultures, and pictures of landmarks and cultural events. This is a tired idea, though, and one that's been around the block one too many times.
I'd like to build something slowly over the course of the first term with my classes next year, as a group. We most certainly use and need a map along with the other stuff as a starting point, but I want to see my students putting their heritage out there for others to see. I want my students to share what it is that makes each one of them unique, and to do so in ways that are equally as unique.
To get this ball rolling I'm asking for your help. I'll need to model this project for my students and so will need the thing that best epitomise the diversity of America and her spirit of adventure: postcards! I plan to put up a map of the US and pictures from Montana so the boys can see where I come from. If anyone happens to be travelling through an airport or gas station this holiday season and spots a cool/unique/cheesy postcard, send it along. There will be no need to write anything personal on it because it'll be laminated and put up on the wall of a boys school. Just pop it in the mail, particularly if you are one of my wonderful family members or friends in Montana, California, Minnesota, Illinoise, Washington state, Nevada, Canada or points inbetween.
Hopefully, with your help, I can put together a groovy picture of America for my students next year.
The biggest problem this mobility created was that my students didn't have a space that felt like it was "theirs." This year we were always using "someone else's" classroom; the walls in our rooms came pre-covered with posters and other students' work by the time we settled into a rooming schedule. We worked around this issue and eventually ended up settling into routines but things never really finished up in a satisfying manner. I didn't get to take student work off the walls and return it to them with a "thanks for letting us use your work this year."
One of the things I'd like to set up in my classroom next year (if I get one) is a display that represents the diversity of students and teachers we have at our school. This year alone I've worked with people from the UK, Canada, New Zealand (both pakeha and Maori), Samoa, Australia, Iraq, Cambodia, Korea, China, Thailand, Croatia, Russia, Scotland, Ireland, India, Germany and other countries that slip my mind at the moment. I made it a habit to know where each of my students came from and they made sure to grill me about America and Montana throughout the year. I learned quite a bit about the rest of the world, as you might have guessed, and this is one of my favourite aspects of my job. One thing that diversity creates is a sense of placelessness. So many of my students, and myself to a certain extent as well, struggle to make sense of what it means to have a history grounded in one culture while both of your feet are ankle-deep in another. All of us needed a way to create a place that truly was ours, even if for one school year.
One way to create this sense of identity and place is with a unique class display: maps covered with tacks to represent points of origin, flags and other such regalia that traditionally represent individual cultures, and pictures of landmarks and cultural events. This is a tired idea, though, and one that's been around the block one too many times.
I'd like to build something slowly over the course of the first term with my classes next year, as a group. We most certainly use and need a map along with the other stuff as a starting point, but I want to see my students putting their heritage out there for others to see. I want my students to share what it is that makes each one of them unique, and to do so in ways that are equally as unique.
To get this ball rolling I'm asking for your help. I'll need to model this project for my students and so will need the thing that best epitomise the diversity of America and her spirit of adventure: postcards! I plan to put up a map of the US and pictures from Montana so the boys can see where I come from. If anyone happens to be travelling through an airport or gas station this holiday season and spots a cool/unique/cheesy postcard, send it along. There will be no need to write anything personal on it because it'll be laminated and put up on the wall of a boys school. Just pop it in the mail, particularly if you are one of my wonderful family members or friends in Montana, California, Minnesota, Illinoise, Washington state, Nevada, Canada or points inbetween.
Hopefully, with your help, I can put together a groovy picture of America for my students next year.
Saturday, October 13, 2007
Transition
You may be wondering why I've titled this blog "Touring New Zealand on the Heart of Gold." This is a nod to all of you Douglas Adams fans out there who long for the opportunity to travel long distances and experience intrinsically weird but not entirely unexpected things. This is the best allusion I can think of when trying to explain my experiences here in New Zealand so far.
There are times when it seems like I've fallen back in time. If people in the States watch a film depicting Victorian England or some other society resembling it, we expect to see students in school uniforms that include skirts or shorts and clunky black shoes. Students stand when the Principle or other Head of Staff in the school entered the room. In these films the students always say "Thank you" at the end of the lesson as they run from the room to do some sort of wholesome activity like fishing at the creek or playing a modified version of cricket on the street outside of their house.
This isn't too far off from what I experienced when I first came to New Zealand. Granted New Zealand is a modern society and kids here are just as glued to their iPods as any other Western country, but things here smack of that which Americans only really experience through TV.
For starters, the majority of schools here have uniform policies that involve skirts and shorts and clunky black shoes, as well as polo shirts with matching sweaters to go over these in the winter. Students are meant to stand, and do so promptly, when the Principal or Headmaster or a Senior Management member enters the room. If you release a class with a compliment such as, "well done today, guys, see you tomorrow," you will always get a chorus of "thank you, Miss," in return. It isn't uncommon for junior high aged boys to play jump rope at school, or high school aged young men to play Four Square with a tennis ball. In fact, I have to practically drag my 16 year old students into home room every day because they always have a game going on outside of the classroom by the time I get there. Once they're in, though, it's back to the song and dance I know so well: "why where you absent yesterday, bring a note tomorrow and here's a notice that you need to take home for your parents to read."
The students I taught when first arriving in Wellington were generally very polite and referred to their teachers as either "Sir" or "Miss". At first I took quite a bit of offence at constantly having pre-teenagers wave their hands in the air and shouting "Miss? Miss?" What where they trying to do, hail a cab? Get a topper on their coffee? I would give these students attention but not after giving them some sort of lecture about giving people the courtesy of learning their name. After all, I had just learned 27 names that day. The least these students could do is to learn the names of one new teacher.
After noticing that none of the other teachers seemed bothered by this I asked if anyone else felt bothered by the fact that students didn't address them by their proper name. All of the teachers I spoke to seemed genuinely taken by surprise by this question. They always responded that the students always addressed them "with the appropriately polite and formal title of 'Miss' or 'Sir.'" Alarmed that I wasn't being treated politely they asked of the students were saying anything that they needed to know about. Now painfully aware of a cultural divide, I assured them that the kids were being just a polite with me as they were with permanent staff members. I explained that calling a teacher "Miss" in the States was a pretty rude thing and that American teachers expected their surnames to be used or, at the very least, a title and their last initial. Kiwi teachers are always surprised and interested in this difference between NZ and US schools.
The social formality of the schools here has been the biggest hurdle for me to get over. Not only have I had to stifle knee-jerk responses but I've had to alter the vocabulary that I use with students. Students respond much better "well done" than they do to "good job"; they smile more widely and tend to repeat the task/skill at a higher rate if given a "well done" at the end of an activity. I can't hold a grade over kids heads here because so much of their grade comes from an exit exam at the end of the year. If I want a student to take me, the lesson, or a punishment more seriously, however, all I have to do is tell them to tuck in their shirt or pull up their knee socks. Here, I have to utilise procedure to put an event or my words into a formal context. This may just be due the highly disciplined structure of the school I currently teach in. I'm fairly certain, though, that if I were to use the same trick at another school I would get the same response.
Recently I've taken to reading professional journals and trade books from the US to remind me of my roots. If I ever move back to the US I predict that I'll have some adjusting to do. Could you imagine what would happen if I told a kid to sit up straight as a way of re-establishing a formal tone in the classroom? I'd get a glowering stare and some retort along the lines of, "who died and made you Ms Marple?"
There are times when it seems like I've fallen back in time. If people in the States watch a film depicting Victorian England or some other society resembling it, we expect to see students in school uniforms that include skirts or shorts and clunky black shoes. Students stand when the Principle or other Head of Staff in the school entered the room. In these films the students always say "Thank you" at the end of the lesson as they run from the room to do some sort of wholesome activity like fishing at the creek or playing a modified version of cricket on the street outside of their house.
This isn't too far off from what I experienced when I first came to New Zealand. Granted New Zealand is a modern society and kids here are just as glued to their iPods as any other Western country, but things here smack of that which Americans only really experience through TV.
For starters, the majority of schools here have uniform policies that involve skirts and shorts and clunky black shoes, as well as polo shirts with matching sweaters to go over these in the winter. Students are meant to stand, and do so promptly, when the Principal or Headmaster or a Senior Management member enters the room. If you release a class with a compliment such as, "well done today, guys, see you tomorrow," you will always get a chorus of "thank you, Miss," in return. It isn't uncommon for junior high aged boys to play jump rope at school, or high school aged young men to play Four Square with a tennis ball. In fact, I have to practically drag my 16 year old students into home room every day because they always have a game going on outside of the classroom by the time I get there. Once they're in, though, it's back to the song and dance I know so well: "why where you absent yesterday, bring a note tomorrow and here's a notice that you need to take home for your parents to read."
The students I taught when first arriving in Wellington were generally very polite and referred to their teachers as either "Sir" or "Miss". At first I took quite a bit of offence at constantly having pre-teenagers wave their hands in the air and shouting "Miss? Miss?" What where they trying to do, hail a cab? Get a topper on their coffee? I would give these students attention but not after giving them some sort of lecture about giving people the courtesy of learning their name. After all, I had just learned 27 names that day. The least these students could do is to learn the names of one new teacher.
After noticing that none of the other teachers seemed bothered by this I asked if anyone else felt bothered by the fact that students didn't address them by their proper name. All of the teachers I spoke to seemed genuinely taken by surprise by this question. They always responded that the students always addressed them "with the appropriately polite and formal title of 'Miss' or 'Sir.'" Alarmed that I wasn't being treated politely they asked of the students were saying anything that they needed to know about. Now painfully aware of a cultural divide, I assured them that the kids were being just a polite with me as they were with permanent staff members. I explained that calling a teacher "Miss" in the States was a pretty rude thing and that American teachers expected their surnames to be used or, at the very least, a title and their last initial. Kiwi teachers are always surprised and interested in this difference between NZ and US schools.
The social formality of the schools here has been the biggest hurdle for me to get over. Not only have I had to stifle knee-jerk responses but I've had to alter the vocabulary that I use with students. Students respond much better "well done" than they do to "good job"; they smile more widely and tend to repeat the task/skill at a higher rate if given a "well done" at the end of an activity. I can't hold a grade over kids heads here because so much of their grade comes from an exit exam at the end of the year. If I want a student to take me, the lesson, or a punishment more seriously, however, all I have to do is tell them to tuck in their shirt or pull up their knee socks. Here, I have to utilise procedure to put an event or my words into a formal context. This may just be due the highly disciplined structure of the school I currently teach in. I'm fairly certain, though, that if I were to use the same trick at another school I would get the same response.
Recently I've taken to reading professional journals and trade books from the US to remind me of my roots. If I ever move back to the US I predict that I'll have some adjusting to do. Could you imagine what would happen if I told a kid to sit up straight as a way of re-establishing a formal tone in the classroom? I'd get a glowering stare and some retort along the lines of, "who died and made you Ms Marple?"
Wednesday, October 3, 2007
A day in the life
People ask me what the school day is like here. My usual response is something along the lines of, "the same as it is everywhere else; the kids come to school, either do their work or they don't, and then they leave. The teachers stay later than they want to, getting things graded and ready for the next day, and then we all fall asleep on our respective couches as soon as we get 10 minutes into our favourite TV shows."
After having a group of American teenagers visit our school last term, I realised that the little day to day stuff can be pretty interesting if it's different enough. At this point it's all a comfortable routine for me. But at one time it was new and foreign. Morning tea? Five and a half hour school days? No tardy bell? Kids in bare feet all day? Shorts in winter? Huh?
I can't speak for all high schools in New Zealand on this topic. I can, however, give you a snapshot of what your average boys' high school student/staff member experiences on your average day. I'll try to hit the big points that are likely to be similar to other schools here in New Zealand. I'll also mention some things that are what I assume to be unique to our particular school because, well, they're kind of unique.
The school day begins for students at 8:45 am. Many make their way via public transit busses that dedicate their space to school students in uniform. If you don't wear a school uniform don't even try to get on these busses. Some students drive, but these are in the minority. Most have to catch the bus or walk. Very few ride bicycles through Auckland's clogged streets.
The school I work at operates on a 6 period day. The school also uses a 6 day "week", which means that every 6 days of class is considered one week. We still meet Monday through Friday, but we jut count our weeks differently. Classes rotate to different periods on different 'days'. For example, Day 1 sees classes A, B, C, D, E and F assigned to periods 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 and 6 respectively. Day 2 we organise the day as classes F, A, B, C, D and E in periods 1-6 respectively, Day 3 is E, F, A, B, C and D, and so on. This ensures that the kids don't get stuck with having the same class 6th period every day. Certain times of the day, such as just after lunch or last period, simply aren't conducive to learning. The kids, and teacher, are either falling asleep or are mentally exhausted. A rotating schedule helps give everyone at least a few days a week to meet at times of the day when students are most awake and ready to focus.
We have the first two periods back to back and then a Form period, which is basically a 10 minute homeroom on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays. These periods are used for collecting and dispersing forms, letters, detention notices, incident reports and other such official stuff that the students need to know and the school doesn't want to pay to mail out. Much of it is individual, so it's handled between the Form teacher and the individual student. Announcements also get read out loud since we don't have a PA system. Students can use Form time to go to the Deans' Suite to take care of business or go to the Careers counselor's suite to sign up for out-of-school courses and programs. Tuesdays and Thursdays we have 20 minute Form periods. The younger kids may do team-building activities, games or study skills workshops with their Form teachers on these days. Older students mostly use these as a study hall or catch up time with their friends. Most Form teachers of these older classes let the kids organise their own time during these periods.
Form periods are short three days per week because on these days we have a 25 minute assembly in the Auditorium. The whole school leaves Form period and gathers together, all 2,100+ of us, to spend time as a whole school. Students sit in assigned areas with their fellow class members, staff sit on stage behind the podium, and deans and student Prefects (akin to Student Council members in US schools) stand out in the seating area to monitor student behaviour. Those boys who misbehave during the assembly are told to stand for the rest of the assembly; students who are "stood up" during this time have to go to the Headmaster's office afterward. This helps keep behaviour in line.
Assemblies are called to order with a hand bell at the beginning, whereby the students need to stop talking and sit quietly while the Deputy Headmaster and Deputy Principals walk onto the stage. Once they are appropriately quiet, which takes about 10-15 seconds on a normal day, the Deputy Headmaster tells the students to stand while the Headmaster enters the Auditorium. The students must stand "still and quiet" while he walks down the aisle and onto the stage. Once he is behind the podium he tells the boys to sit, which they do without talking, and then the events get underway. For the most part the boys know what is expected of them; it's emphasised that assemblies are formal occasions that demand formal, proper behaviour. The pomp and regalia (the Headmaster wears a black ceremonial robe much like a graduation robe) give assemblies an almost religious tone to my eye. They are designed to mimic the days of tradition and ceremony that the private British education system once cultivated here. Our high school is only about 40 years old and this is one tradition that is in the process of being cultivated. Most schools in New Zealand have whole school assemblies every now and again. Those are a bit louder, and are usually held in gymnasiums; students sit on the floor. Our school is a bit different in that we have three per week for the duration of the school year.
Monday and Friday assemblies are dedicated to Sports. Results and schedules are read out, and successes are celebrated with any certificates, plaques or medals that members of the student body have earned. We have a lot of students involved in Club, regional or other non-school sporting activities. These students typically do pretty well in competitions and when they achieve high standings or rankings they are recognised. Wednesdays' assemblies concern the Arts, academics and other cultural issues. These assemblies begin with the students standing for school song. We typically have some sort of guest speaker on these days to speak to a topic of interest to the school. Student representatives from groups like 40 Hour Famine, the Buddies program or Amnesty International may stand and tell the students who they are and what they do. Sometimes performing arts student perform a piece of music or dance for the school to raise awareness of the work that they do outside of class hours. Outstanding academic achievements are recognised.
All in all, these assemblies are pretty interesting. I get to see what my students are up to outside of the class and what's going on in the wider school life. There is a definite rumbling in the student body, however, that assemblies three times per week get a bit tedious. The students see them as something that gets them out of class, for good or bad; the administration sees them as a time for the school to get together, bolster school spirit and pride and promote achievement. Teachers have mixed feelings, as we typically would really like to have that 25 minutes to get caught up on paperwork instead of listening to speakers talk to kids. It's a good cause but a tedious one nonetheless.
After assembly is Morning Tea, also known as Interval. This is a national phenomenon whereby a workplace or school grinds to a halt for 20 minutes while everyone takes a break. Our morning tea happens at 11 am. The boys will eat half of their lunch outside while the staff heads to the staff room for a cup of tea and perhaps a snack. Some staff, myself included, use the time for a bathroom break, then grab a cup of tea or coffee to drink while we catch up on our photocopying or other paperwork. I tend to not take down time in the staff room. While I like the concept of spending 15 minutes every morning to relax with your co-workers, I tend to have a smoother day when I can use that time to take care of those little odds and ends that clutter your brain.
The boys enjoy what basically amounts to recess for grown-ups. They get to hang out outside because they have nowhere to be that is 'inside.' Classrooms are organised into small buildings called "blocks" that may have a hallway in them but for the most part no place to really spread out. Most kids play a game called Handball (or Four Square) on the quad, both simple games that involve skilfully bouncing a tennis ball past your opponent. A lot of other boys organise touch Rugby or soccer games out on the fields. For the most part they run around, blow off some physical steam and get sweaty before coming back to class.
After morning tea we have third and fourth periods. A little information about class changes is in order here. Those of us who grew up in the US public education system remember very well the 'tardy bell,' that audible finish line that signalled the end of our 4 minute dash to the next class. This bell determined out late or on-time status and provided a very solid and fair reminder of the daily schedule.
The tardy bell does not exist in New Zealand. If it does, it's probably gone feral and is hiding in the bush somewhere.
Here, you get teachers who wait patiently for students to get to within shouting distance or line-of-sight proximity of their class. They then start giving the students a host of clues that tell them that lateness is really at the teacher's discretion. Most teachers are sympathetic to the plight of the kids who have to get changed after PE and are racing to get from the changing rooms across campus to the English Building. Others have a hardline policy: if I'm here before you are, you're late. Most teachers don't hang out in one classroom all day. Most of us have office space in a shared departmental work room and teach in a variety of classrooms throughout the day. The physical environment is a lot like a University campus. The bells, however, remind me just how relaxed (read 'subjective') a lot of things in New Zealand are. This means that teachers often have to race across campus just like the kids, or at least make their way from office to classroom. This helps to lend credibility to the "if I'm here, you're late" rule. After all, most of us are either pretty old or wear high heeled shoes. "There really is no excuse not to beat me here, boys," is a well-like and well-accepted phrase among the staff.
Lunch for the students and staff is from 12:50 to 1:30. The late lunch isn't so bad once you remember that breakfasts here are eaten around 7 am and most people have a snack at 11. Most kids pack a lunch from home and carry them in plastic grocery sacks. They have access to a school store called a canteen that sells hot pies and sausage rolls along with cup o' noodles, chips, drinks, and candy bars. The canteen itself is a small building that operates like a Dairy Queen. It has large windows that opens directly to a wide open lot area. The boys line up at the window assigned to their class (for organisational purposes) and teachers are on duty to make sure the shoving is kept to a minimum and that food fights don't happen. Food choice is pretty limited at the canteen, so most kids choose to pack a lunch. There is no hot lunch service, nor is there a cafeteria.
At lunch and morning tea our Deputy Headmaster wanders the grounds with the Scab crew. These are boys who have been assigned to litter picking duty by their teachers for misbehaving in class. It helps to keep the kids in line and the school clean. Other teaches wander around the school grounds at their assigned times of the day to make sure the kids are behaving. This is akin to the playground duty that elementary teachers have to do, only with high school boys. It seemed patronising to both teachers and students at first, from my perspective, but it does keep the bullying and littering to a minimum. While on duty, teachers are expected to remind students to straighten out their uniforms or pick up litter from their lunch and throw it away in the garbage cans. Mostly, though, we are a presence and try to basically chat with the kids in a friendly way. Things stay light, in order, and generally friendly that way.
After lunch we have 5th and 6th periods and then the release bell goes off at 3:10. Students are expected to stack their chairs on the desks of their sixth period classroom and pick up any big pieces of garbage on the classroom floor. They do this quickly then flee, literally, in a shoving mass of green polo shirts across the school grounds. We teachers stick around for meetings or get things tidied up and ready for the next day. The surfers on staff grab their stack of papers that need grading and run out the door just as fast as the kids. They'll drive about 40 minutes to the western beaches to catch a few waves before sundown; they'll finish their paperwork after dinner.
What do I do at the end of the day, you might ask? I stay as late as I need to in order to get things done. I typically get to school between 7:20 and 7:40 am and I usually leave between 5 and 5:30 pm. I tried taking work home there for a while but I just couldn't figure out how to turn my brain off when I did that. I would wake up in the middle of the night thinking about assignments or lessons plans or problems I had with individual students during the day. Generally, taking work home is a practice that doesn't work well with me.
So I stick around until my desk is as clear as it needs to be for the following day. Then I go home, eat dinner and fall asleep on the couch 10 minutes into my favourite TV show.
After having a group of American teenagers visit our school last term, I realised that the little day to day stuff can be pretty interesting if it's different enough. At this point it's all a comfortable routine for me. But at one time it was new and foreign. Morning tea? Five and a half hour school days? No tardy bell? Kids in bare feet all day? Shorts in winter? Huh?
I can't speak for all high schools in New Zealand on this topic. I can, however, give you a snapshot of what your average boys' high school student/staff member experiences on your average day. I'll try to hit the big points that are likely to be similar to other schools here in New Zealand. I'll also mention some things that are what I assume to be unique to our particular school because, well, they're kind of unique.
The school day begins for students at 8:45 am. Many make their way via public transit busses that dedicate their space to school students in uniform. If you don't wear a school uniform don't even try to get on these busses. Some students drive, but these are in the minority. Most have to catch the bus or walk. Very few ride bicycles through Auckland's clogged streets.
The school I work at operates on a 6 period day. The school also uses a 6 day "week", which means that every 6 days of class is considered one week. We still meet Monday through Friday, but we jut count our weeks differently. Classes rotate to different periods on different 'days'. For example, Day 1 sees classes A, B, C, D, E and F assigned to periods 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 and 6 respectively. Day 2 we organise the day as classes F, A, B, C, D and E in periods 1-6 respectively, Day 3 is E, F, A, B, C and D, and so on. This ensures that the kids don't get stuck with having the same class 6th period every day. Certain times of the day, such as just after lunch or last period, simply aren't conducive to learning. The kids, and teacher, are either falling asleep or are mentally exhausted. A rotating schedule helps give everyone at least a few days a week to meet at times of the day when students are most awake and ready to focus.
We have the first two periods back to back and then a Form period, which is basically a 10 minute homeroom on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays. These periods are used for collecting and dispersing forms, letters, detention notices, incident reports and other such official stuff that the students need to know and the school doesn't want to pay to mail out. Much of it is individual, so it's handled between the Form teacher and the individual student. Announcements also get read out loud since we don't have a PA system. Students can use Form time to go to the Deans' Suite to take care of business or go to the Careers counselor's suite to sign up for out-of-school courses and programs. Tuesdays and Thursdays we have 20 minute Form periods. The younger kids may do team-building activities, games or study skills workshops with their Form teachers on these days. Older students mostly use these as a study hall or catch up time with their friends. Most Form teachers of these older classes let the kids organise their own time during these periods.
Form periods are short three days per week because on these days we have a 25 minute assembly in the Auditorium. The whole school leaves Form period and gathers together, all 2,100+ of us, to spend time as a whole school. Students sit in assigned areas with their fellow class members, staff sit on stage behind the podium, and deans and student Prefects (akin to Student Council members in US schools) stand out in the seating area to monitor student behaviour. Those boys who misbehave during the assembly are told to stand for the rest of the assembly; students who are "stood up" during this time have to go to the Headmaster's office afterward. This helps keep behaviour in line.
Assemblies are called to order with a hand bell at the beginning, whereby the students need to stop talking and sit quietly while the Deputy Headmaster and Deputy Principals walk onto the stage. Once they are appropriately quiet, which takes about 10-15 seconds on a normal day, the Deputy Headmaster tells the students to stand while the Headmaster enters the Auditorium. The students must stand "still and quiet" while he walks down the aisle and onto the stage. Once he is behind the podium he tells the boys to sit, which they do without talking, and then the events get underway. For the most part the boys know what is expected of them; it's emphasised that assemblies are formal occasions that demand formal, proper behaviour. The pomp and regalia (the Headmaster wears a black ceremonial robe much like a graduation robe) give assemblies an almost religious tone to my eye. They are designed to mimic the days of tradition and ceremony that the private British education system once cultivated here. Our high school is only about 40 years old and this is one tradition that is in the process of being cultivated. Most schools in New Zealand have whole school assemblies every now and again. Those are a bit louder, and are usually held in gymnasiums; students sit on the floor. Our school is a bit different in that we have three per week for the duration of the school year.
Monday and Friday assemblies are dedicated to Sports. Results and schedules are read out, and successes are celebrated with any certificates, plaques or medals that members of the student body have earned. We have a lot of students involved in Club, regional or other non-school sporting activities. These students typically do pretty well in competitions and when they achieve high standings or rankings they are recognised. Wednesdays' assemblies concern the Arts, academics and other cultural issues. These assemblies begin with the students standing for school song. We typically have some sort of guest speaker on these days to speak to a topic of interest to the school. Student representatives from groups like 40 Hour Famine, the Buddies program or Amnesty International may stand and tell the students who they are and what they do. Sometimes performing arts student perform a piece of music or dance for the school to raise awareness of the work that they do outside of class hours. Outstanding academic achievements are recognised.
All in all, these assemblies are pretty interesting. I get to see what my students are up to outside of the class and what's going on in the wider school life. There is a definite rumbling in the student body, however, that assemblies three times per week get a bit tedious. The students see them as something that gets them out of class, for good or bad; the administration sees them as a time for the school to get together, bolster school spirit and pride and promote achievement. Teachers have mixed feelings, as we typically would really like to have that 25 minutes to get caught up on paperwork instead of listening to speakers talk to kids. It's a good cause but a tedious one nonetheless.
After assembly is Morning Tea, also known as Interval. This is a national phenomenon whereby a workplace or school grinds to a halt for 20 minutes while everyone takes a break. Our morning tea happens at 11 am. The boys will eat half of their lunch outside while the staff heads to the staff room for a cup of tea and perhaps a snack. Some staff, myself included, use the time for a bathroom break, then grab a cup of tea or coffee to drink while we catch up on our photocopying or other paperwork. I tend to not take down time in the staff room. While I like the concept of spending 15 minutes every morning to relax with your co-workers, I tend to have a smoother day when I can use that time to take care of those little odds and ends that clutter your brain.
The boys enjoy what basically amounts to recess for grown-ups. They get to hang out outside because they have nowhere to be that is 'inside.' Classrooms are organised into small buildings called "blocks" that may have a hallway in them but for the most part no place to really spread out. Most kids play a game called Handball (or Four Square) on the quad, both simple games that involve skilfully bouncing a tennis ball past your opponent. A lot of other boys organise touch Rugby or soccer games out on the fields. For the most part they run around, blow off some physical steam and get sweaty before coming back to class.
After morning tea we have third and fourth periods. A little information about class changes is in order here. Those of us who grew up in the US public education system remember very well the 'tardy bell,' that audible finish line that signalled the end of our 4 minute dash to the next class. This bell determined out late or on-time status and provided a very solid and fair reminder of the daily schedule.
The tardy bell does not exist in New Zealand. If it does, it's probably gone feral and is hiding in the bush somewhere.
Here, you get teachers who wait patiently for students to get to within shouting distance or line-of-sight proximity of their class. They then start giving the students a host of clues that tell them that lateness is really at the teacher's discretion. Most teachers are sympathetic to the plight of the kids who have to get changed after PE and are racing to get from the changing rooms across campus to the English Building. Others have a hardline policy: if I'm here before you are, you're late. Most teachers don't hang out in one classroom all day. Most of us have office space in a shared departmental work room and teach in a variety of classrooms throughout the day. The physical environment is a lot like a University campus. The bells, however, remind me just how relaxed (read 'subjective') a lot of things in New Zealand are. This means that teachers often have to race across campus just like the kids, or at least make their way from office to classroom. This helps to lend credibility to the "if I'm here, you're late" rule. After all, most of us are either pretty old or wear high heeled shoes. "There really is no excuse not to beat me here, boys," is a well-like and well-accepted phrase among the staff.
Lunch for the students and staff is from 12:50 to 1:30. The late lunch isn't so bad once you remember that breakfasts here are eaten around 7 am and most people have a snack at 11. Most kids pack a lunch from home and carry them in plastic grocery sacks. They have access to a school store called a canteen that sells hot pies and sausage rolls along with cup o' noodles, chips, drinks, and candy bars. The canteen itself is a small building that operates like a Dairy Queen. It has large windows that opens directly to a wide open lot area. The boys line up at the window assigned to their class (for organisational purposes) and teachers are on duty to make sure the shoving is kept to a minimum and that food fights don't happen. Food choice is pretty limited at the canteen, so most kids choose to pack a lunch. There is no hot lunch service, nor is there a cafeteria.
At lunch and morning tea our Deputy Headmaster wanders the grounds with the Scab crew. These are boys who have been assigned to litter picking duty by their teachers for misbehaving in class. It helps to keep the kids in line and the school clean. Other teaches wander around the school grounds at their assigned times of the day to make sure the kids are behaving. This is akin to the playground duty that elementary teachers have to do, only with high school boys. It seemed patronising to both teachers and students at first, from my perspective, but it does keep the bullying and littering to a minimum. While on duty, teachers are expected to remind students to straighten out their uniforms or pick up litter from their lunch and throw it away in the garbage cans. Mostly, though, we are a presence and try to basically chat with the kids in a friendly way. Things stay light, in order, and generally friendly that way.
After lunch we have 5th and 6th periods and then the release bell goes off at 3:10. Students are expected to stack their chairs on the desks of their sixth period classroom and pick up any big pieces of garbage on the classroom floor. They do this quickly then flee, literally, in a shoving mass of green polo shirts across the school grounds. We teachers stick around for meetings or get things tidied up and ready for the next day. The surfers on staff grab their stack of papers that need grading and run out the door just as fast as the kids. They'll drive about 40 minutes to the western beaches to catch a few waves before sundown; they'll finish their paperwork after dinner.
What do I do at the end of the day, you might ask? I stay as late as I need to in order to get things done. I typically get to school between 7:20 and 7:40 am and I usually leave between 5 and 5:30 pm. I tried taking work home there for a while but I just couldn't figure out how to turn my brain off when I did that. I would wake up in the middle of the night thinking about assignments or lessons plans or problems I had with individual students during the day. Generally, taking work home is a practice that doesn't work well with me.
So I stick around until my desk is as clear as it needs to be for the following day. Then I go home, eat dinner and fall asleep on the couch 10 minutes into my favourite TV show.
Monday, September 10, 2007
Cultural Baggage
Teaching abroad is an odd, challenging and infinitely interesting experience. One of the first things I noticed when I was substitute teaching at middle schools around Wellington was that students are mirrors of their culture. Imagine my surprise when an excited group of 11 and 12 year old students asked me if I've ever seen WWE wrestlers walking down the street. "You mean in their outfits?" I asked. "Yeah," they practically shouted back, unable to contain their interest in a person that brought a *very* tenuous connection to their favourite "sport" right into their classroom. Of course I answered no and said that if the wrestlers were walking the streets in regular clothing I would have no way of knowing what kind of work they do. "Oy," they complained and then went back to more important things like launching pieces of rubber eraser across the room with their rulers.
Who knew that wrestling made it onto TV down here? It was the last piece of American culture that I expected to see. Nor did I expect the honesty of these young students. I liked to play up the foreigner concept and bring news articles into the classroom. I'd read about things going on around the world (non-American and non-Kiwi). Students were very curious about the world and frequently brought a New Zealand perspective to concepts. On the subject of the proliferation of high fructose corn syrup and a mono-corn agriculture the students had a hard time with the idea that anything made from vegetables could be bad for you. Typical kid thinking, right?
But this is New Zealand, where old ways die hard. Take the drinking culture for example. There used to be a time when Victorian morals applied to everything, including when and how certain goods could be bought and sold. Until a few generations ago pubs and bars couldn’t sell any sort of alcohol after 6 pm. Working class folk all over the country, jonesing for a chemically-enhanced feeling of relaxation, would flood the pubs at 5 and drink as much as their bodies could could hold before 6 o’clock rolled around. Once the 6pm rule ended, though, the bingeing didn’t. As a result New Zealand has a very real national problem with binge drinking and drunk driving that has managed to survive. This relaxed attitude toward alcohol also manifests itself in other laws: the purchasing age for alcohol is 18 and it is legal to consume alcohol under that age if approved by a guardian or older family member. Kiwis learn to drink early and to drink poorly.
There is a growing discussion in the media about these problems and I decided to do a little discussion/debate issue with a group of 13 year olds. What did they think of all the fuss about young people drinking? They couldn't seem to grasp the idea that drunken, brawling 17-year-olds are not just "boys being boys," but instead victims of a drinking culture run amok. While adults begin to question the effects of their role modelling on young New Zealand, the children are blissfully ignorant of the change in perceptions around them. They see the norm not as something to change and question but as just the way things are. For the most part they don't implant "question thy elder" chips in the kids here.
So what’s the most common question Kiwi students ask visiting Americans? Teens most commonly scrunch up their faces and ask, “You're from America? What the hell are you doing here?” For the younger crowd it’s, “Do you own a gun?” Both groups, without exception, always look disappointed when they find out that no, I’m not currently packing a six-shooter nor have I ever owned a gun. Their disinterest quickly grows to epic proportions when they find out that I think New Zealand just as interesting as the States. Maybe they were expecting a cross between Annie Oakley and an Oakland Raiders cheerleader.
Who knew that wrestling made it onto TV down here? It was the last piece of American culture that I expected to see. Nor did I expect the honesty of these young students. I liked to play up the foreigner concept and bring news articles into the classroom. I'd read about things going on around the world (non-American and non-Kiwi). Students were very curious about the world and frequently brought a New Zealand perspective to concepts. On the subject of the proliferation of high fructose corn syrup and a mono-corn agriculture the students had a hard time with the idea that anything made from vegetables could be bad for you. Typical kid thinking, right?
But this is New Zealand, where old ways die hard. Take the drinking culture for example. There used to be a time when Victorian morals applied to everything, including when and how certain goods could be bought and sold. Until a few generations ago pubs and bars couldn’t sell any sort of alcohol after 6 pm. Working class folk all over the country, jonesing for a chemically-enhanced feeling of relaxation, would flood the pubs at 5 and drink as much as their bodies could could hold before 6 o’clock rolled around. Once the 6pm rule ended, though, the bingeing didn’t. As a result New Zealand has a very real national problem with binge drinking and drunk driving that has managed to survive. This relaxed attitude toward alcohol also manifests itself in other laws: the purchasing age for alcohol is 18 and it is legal to consume alcohol under that age if approved by a guardian or older family member. Kiwis learn to drink early and to drink poorly.
There is a growing discussion in the media about these problems and I decided to do a little discussion/debate issue with a group of 13 year olds. What did they think of all the fuss about young people drinking? They couldn't seem to grasp the idea that drunken, brawling 17-year-olds are not just "boys being boys," but instead victims of a drinking culture run amok. While adults begin to question the effects of their role modelling on young New Zealand, the children are blissfully ignorant of the change in perceptions around them. They see the norm not as something to change and question but as just the way things are. For the most part they don't implant "question thy elder" chips in the kids here.
So what’s the most common question Kiwi students ask visiting Americans? Teens most commonly scrunch up their faces and ask, “You're from America? What the hell are you doing here?” For the younger crowd it’s, “Do you own a gun?” Both groups, without exception, always look disappointed when they find out that no, I’m not currently packing a six-shooter nor have I ever owned a gun. Their disinterest quickly grows to epic proportions when they find out that I think New Zealand just as interesting as the States. Maybe they were expecting a cross between Annie Oakley and an Oakland Raiders cheerleader.
Sunday, September 9, 2007
To Boldly Go Where Many Have Gone Before
Due to popular demand and demanding family, a blog is born. Initially I had apprehensions about publishing my experiences as a teacher in the public schools of New Zealand. The very nature of my job is public; I deal with a wide section of the community on a daily basis and my job dictates, in no small part, how I should act and operate in my personal life when I'm out and about. Thus I cling to my privacy with every intention of keeping that part of my life intact. Part of what makes teaching so tiring for me is that the line between my public and private selves is so blurred. I can't seem to get away from my job, no matter how much I try: I see my students when I shop for toilet paper and groceries at the store, when I go out for a coffee with my husband and when I catch public transit. I often wake up in the middle of the night wondering how to address such-and-such issue or problem in the classroom. I read stories of teachers being fired for choices they make in their personal lives and wonder how much people are watching me during my forays outside the house on the weekends. I can no longer wear two-piece swimming suits to the beach or buy personal toiletries at certain grocery stores for fear of being labeled an exhibitionist or, even worse, a functioning, normal human being.
Writing about my work in a public forum, in this light, can be a dangerous thing. I'm putting even more of myself out there into the public realm. What remains of my professional life that I have kept private up to this point are no longer in the dark. In a way, you could accuse me of being an exhibitionist.
The things I'll write about in this blog are the kinds of things I normally wouldn't talk about at work. They're the sorts of things I keep to myself because I know other teachers probably 1) don't think of those things, or 2) think about them but don't share with me and, so, don't desire such thoughts to be public. There's also a lot to be said for not rocking the boat too much at work.
I have plenty of fellow teachers who come from outside of the New Zealand originally. They've probably had their shares of confusion and internal conflict and quiet jokes much like I have. A few have shared them with me in confidence and I appreciate that. So I share my own experiences with you, my family and friends. I hope you enjoy.
Writing about my work in a public forum, in this light, can be a dangerous thing. I'm putting even more of myself out there into the public realm. What remains of my professional life that I have kept private up to this point are no longer in the dark. In a way, you could accuse me of being an exhibitionist.
The things I'll write about in this blog are the kinds of things I normally wouldn't talk about at work. They're the sorts of things I keep to myself because I know other teachers probably 1) don't think of those things, or 2) think about them but don't share with me and, so, don't desire such thoughts to be public. There's also a lot to be said for not rocking the boat too much at work.
I have plenty of fellow teachers who come from outside of the New Zealand originally. They've probably had their shares of confusion and internal conflict and quiet jokes much like I have. A few have shared them with me in confidence and I appreciate that. So I share my own experiences with you, my family and friends. I hope you enjoy.
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