Glad I found your blog — looking forward to following your jouney!
Today marks exactly one year without teaching.
A plethora of versions abound. Done being a teacher. In the twelve years I was a high school English teacher, I watched people leave the profession in droves. Some hung in there for a handful of years before eventually succumbing to cynicism and fatigue.
The climate is different.
The culture is different. The system is breaking, and educators are scattering to avoid the inevitable crushing debris when it all comes crumbling down. I hope you will join the conversation. To make my own decision. Actually, there are only two: They are the incredible things.
You get to be your own boss. Parents are the boss of you. The administration is the boss of you. Common Core is the boss of you. Your day does not resemble that of a typical white-collar professional. Go out to lunch 5.
Complete paperwork and other job-related tasks during the actual work day 6. Because you know what else is the boss of you?
Everyone thinks they know how to do your job. SVU once a week? Surely, teaching is different, though, right? Six, seven, eight hours a day, ever since preschool, everyone has seen this job, so everyone is allowed to have an opinion.
But even brand new teachers can tell: You wanted to foster imagination, not slaughter it. They deserve to gather around a rocking chair and feed their imaginations. This one is tricky. In fact, it is all they know. But, um, back in my day — look, even a decade ago — it felt a little simpler to practice using something TRULY innovative: One of my favorite lessons to teach involved a set of four philosophical questions.
I typed them up and distributed them to my sophomores, who were allowed to work in groups. Curiosity, creativity, and communication skills. All the entitlement and the trophies and the apathy and whatever. Like cigarette smoke, it gets carried in from home, rising from their backpacks, woven through the threads of their clothes and the fibers of their upbringing.
It means he might not have written a perfect paper. Brace yourself for the irate phone call in the morning.
They are warm and generous and responsible. I hope I will be that kind of parent.Mar 03, · Want to hear a sick joke? A husband and wife walk into the emergency room in the late evening on Sept. 5, A few hours and tests later, the doctor clarifies that the unusual pain the wife is.
An Anarchist Who Revels in Destruction. I would like to offer my reasoning for supporting Trump. I know he would do a pretty terrible job at this point, but I really am at the point of letting the. What I Want My Words To Do To You offers an unprecedented look into the minds and hearts of the women inmates of New York’s Bedford Hills Correctional Facility.
The film goes inside a writing. The documentary What I Want My Words to Do to You offers a look at some actual rehabilitation at a women's maximum security prison. Directors Judith Katz, Madeleine Gavin, and Gary Sunshine used high-definition video cameras to capture an emotional reformation process for several incarcerated women.
You’re You’re a Pedophile. You Don’t Want to Hurt Anyone.
What Do You Do Now? There’s no helpline for pedophiles who want treatment before they act. Fun is back, find the equilibrium with machine translation. Will it converge?