Today, with a full day of learning ahead of us, I began the day by taking roll and lunch. I began by reading "The Story about Ping" by Marjorie Flack. The children were quite attentive during the reading time, and seemed very engaged with the story. I had them pay close attention to the illustrations as I walked around the room.
When story time was over, I gave out unlined paper and asked them to get out their crayons. I asked them to draw a duck or a boat (or anything) in or on the water, use crayons, and show motion with their drawing. The resulting pieces were quite impressive, and the enthusiasm of the children about their work was surprising.
After the story and the art, we talked about the country of China. We located Alabama on the globe, and then China. We talked about the way people (and ducks) lived on houseboats in Ping's story, and how 1/3 of the population of China lives on houseboats. We used the word "population" when discussing China's overcrowding problem, and because it's in the "tion" word family, we decided to list many "tion" words on the board.
The discussion of China led the children to raise the issue of the deadly Tsunami and the current death estimates. I wrote the word "tsunami" on the board as another vocabulary word, and we discussed the disaster. The children were surprisingly knowledgable about the events causing the phenomenon and the discussion was quite lively. At 9:45, I left to go tutor and returned at 11am. The children and I explored more areas of Pings story, using mathematics to calculate the number of ducks who lived on Ping's houseboat.
At 11:40 we went to lunch, and I delivered the children to Ms. Miller's PE class at 12:15. From then until 1pm, I made copies of the reading and math tests to be administered that afternoon. When the children came back at 1pm, we took all three tests, finishing just in time for recess at 2pm. We returned to the room at 2:25pm and had time for read-alouds until 2:45. We then packed up and left the room at 2:50pm.
Thursday, January 20, 2005
Reading Tutor - Session 1
I began tutoring a struggling reader in 2nd grade today, and for documentation purposes, I'll call her Carla.
We met very briefly last week to learn each other's names, so today I began our 45 minute session by introducing myself and asking her about herself. She is a very sweet and somewhat shy little girl.
I asked her if she'd rather read to me first, or rather me read to her. She wanted me to read first. I chose a book below her reading level, and I read it to her, stopping to ask questions from time to time.
She then chose a book and began reading. She had great skills with consonants, but struggled with unfamiliar words only where the vowel sounds were concerned. She looks at the page for cues for unfamiliar words, but her decoding skills need work. I want to find a game that focuses on the vowels and vowel blends and work on that next week to see what that does for Carla.
We've already chosen the book we'll start with next week. The last activity in this session was a game with consonant blends. I wanted her to experience a great deal of success to build her confidence and put a very positive light on this whole tutoring thing. I'm looking forward to watching her progress in the coming weeks.
We met very briefly last week to learn each other's names, so today I began our 45 minute session by introducing myself and asking her about herself. She is a very sweet and somewhat shy little girl.
I asked her if she'd rather read to me first, or rather me read to her. She wanted me to read first. I chose a book below her reading level, and I read it to her, stopping to ask questions from time to time.
She then chose a book and began reading. She had great skills with consonants, but struggled with unfamiliar words only where the vowel sounds were concerned. She looks at the page for cues for unfamiliar words, but her decoding skills need work. I want to find a game that focuses on the vowels and vowel blends and work on that next week to see what that does for Carla.
We've already chosen the book we'll start with next week. The last activity in this session was a game with consonant blends. I wanted her to experience a great deal of success to build her confidence and put a very positive light on this whole tutoring thing. I'm looking forward to watching her progress in the coming weeks.
Anger Management: Reality Bites and Licks
I'd love to say that I'm perfect, I always consider the feelings of others above my own, and that I practice the Golden Rule every day. Reality, however, says that I'm controlling, self-centered, harsh, and demanding.
Joining me in the fantasy life in which I attempt to indulge every day of my life - the one in which I push every envelope, explore every facet of every interest, emote and stir emotion in others to a fevered pitch, making life a 9.8 on the Richter scale every day - simply doesn't seem to be on anyone else's "top ten list" of ways to spend their days.
I expect it to be, though, and I want that so much. Doing these things I do makes me feel very "Lost in Translation" much of the time. Occasionally, I think people are dismissing me because they aren't interested or because I'm not interesting, or even worse - that I'm immature. Sometimes I get angry because people won't stretch themselves to participate and find out how GREAT life can be. Then, when I have time to sit and really think, I completely understand how no one else on the freakin' planet would want to step onto this roller coaster I call my life no matter how much they love me. They do support me, standing on the platform and waving every time I rush by. I want, I long for these people that I love to choose to be with me in the front car of the coaster, buckled in - of course - but hands in the air, hair whipping in the wind, laughing until our stomachs ache at that which scares the rest of the world so badly that there are no other riders on the coaster, so the operator just keeps sending us through the ride over and over and over.
Most just shake their heads as they walk away toward the kiddie rides, politely waving goodbye. The faithful few remain on that platform, probably hoping I'll be finished soon and ready to see the rest of the park.
Reality bites: to be with them and experience connection, I have to get off the coaster.
Reality licks: I have someone to see the park with.
Solution? Probably Prozac.
Joining me in the fantasy life in which I attempt to indulge every day of my life - the one in which I push every envelope, explore every facet of every interest, emote and stir emotion in others to a fevered pitch, making life a 9.8 on the Richter scale every day - simply doesn't seem to be on anyone else's "top ten list" of ways to spend their days.
I expect it to be, though, and I want that so much. Doing these things I do makes me feel very "Lost in Translation" much of the time. Occasionally, I think people are dismissing me because they aren't interested or because I'm not interesting, or even worse - that I'm immature. Sometimes I get angry because people won't stretch themselves to participate and find out how GREAT life can be. Then, when I have time to sit and really think, I completely understand how no one else on the freakin' planet would want to step onto this roller coaster I call my life no matter how much they love me. They do support me, standing on the platform and waving every time I rush by. I want, I long for these people that I love to choose to be with me in the front car of the coaster, buckled in - of course - but hands in the air, hair whipping in the wind, laughing until our stomachs ache at that which scares the rest of the world so badly that there are no other riders on the coaster, so the operator just keeps sending us through the ride over and over and over.
Most just shake their heads as they walk away toward the kiddie rides, politely waving goodbye. The faithful few remain on that platform, probably hoping I'll be finished soon and ready to see the rest of the park.
Reality bites: to be with them and experience connection, I have to get off the coaster.
Reality licks: I have someone to see the park with.
Solution? Probably Prozac.
Substitute: Day 1
Today, after my morning class, I went to a nearby elementary school to substitute for a sick teacher. I had subbed there before, and was honored to be asked to return. A second grade class of 18 students awaited my arrival, and after a brief introduction and a scrambled together planning session with another teacher, we lined up and headed for lunch.
When we returned from lunch, we immediately set to work reading this week's story and discussing it. Although it was from a basal reader, it was a fun story about a boy kidnapped by cowboys and becoming one. We discussed words like imagination, stampede, and matador. We talked about "slang" and how cowboys might not speak formally. In the course of our interactions, I complimented a student on her handwriting while she wrote on the white board. I told the class that she was being quite meticulous. From looking at what the student was doing, the students figured out the meaning of the word! Voila - vocabulary lesson. Later, I asked them to fold a piece of paper vertically and saw opportunity for another quick vocabulary mini-lesson - vertical and horizontal. After an hour or so of hard hitting language arts, I offered them the opportunity to put their heads down and rest or come to the story area and listen to me read a story. I got about half the class to the story until they saw it was a "Junie B. Jones" book, then 3 or 4 others joined us. We read 3 chapters! They loved it, and it was the perfect activity for an unplanned day.
After story time, we had free art time, then cleanup and ready for the end of the day!
I was asked back to substitute tomorrow, and I'm very excited about the opportunity to work with these students again, and building my reliability and relationship with the administration at the school. I'd love to be a regular at their school, because the atmosphere is great and the teachers are helpful. Now, I'm going to put together a plan for tomorrow's activities.
When we returned from lunch, we immediately set to work reading this week's story and discussing it. Although it was from a basal reader, it was a fun story about a boy kidnapped by cowboys and becoming one. We discussed words like imagination, stampede, and matador. We talked about "slang" and how cowboys might not speak formally. In the course of our interactions, I complimented a student on her handwriting while she wrote on the white board. I told the class that she was being quite meticulous. From looking at what the student was doing, the students figured out the meaning of the word! Voila - vocabulary lesson. Later, I asked them to fold a piece of paper vertically and saw opportunity for another quick vocabulary mini-lesson - vertical and horizontal. After an hour or so of hard hitting language arts, I offered them the opportunity to put their heads down and rest or come to the story area and listen to me read a story. I got about half the class to the story until they saw it was a "Junie B. Jones" book, then 3 or 4 others joined us. We read 3 chapters! They loved it, and it was the perfect activity for an unplanned day.
After story time, we had free art time, then cleanup and ready for the end of the day!
I was asked back to substitute tomorrow, and I'm very excited about the opportunity to work with these students again, and building my reliability and relationship with the administration at the school. I'd love to be a regular at their school, because the atmosphere is great and the teachers are helpful. Now, I'm going to put together a plan for tomorrow's activities.
Tuesday, January 18, 2005
DND527
DND527
A Short Story by Rebecca Montalbano
"Crap! I bit my tongue again! This disease is a real pain!" Sunti brushed off her genuine concern with a light chuckle.
Gorl and Mokti exchanged nervous glances before Mokti joined in the faux laughter. The disease wasn't supposed to progress this quickly, and the doctors and their research assistant knew it. When Sunti was diagnosed, they both knew instantly what lay ahead of them, but the speed of progression in her case was a mystery. They had a great deal of experience with the disease, not just because of their vocation, but also as a result of their own research, painstakingly carried out over the past eleven years.
On Earth, it was called Alzheimer's Disease, but on the station at the far end of the galaxy, it was called Degenerative Neural Disorder 527 - DND527. Sunti had been diagnosed just a year ago during her routine annual DNA screening. The symptoms had begun to manifest only months after the test results displayed on the MedTerm, but they shouldn't have been noticeable for another eight to ten years,.
Instead of Sunti losing her short-term memory or her ability to make rational judgments, DND527 was causing fine motor skill problems. Her sketches had become unrecognizable, she failed to enter her codes properly, and she kept having difficulty chewing and swallowing.
Most disturbing to both of them was that Sunti was completely aware of her diagnosis and the increasing intensity of her symptoms, both of which elude perception in most DND527 patients. Gorl kept a strong countenance in mixed company, but fell apart the second he and Sunti were alone together. He knew they had only months left to share, and he was already grieving the loss of his mate of 18 years.
Mokti finished her midday nutrients and exited the arboretum to check on her current group of cultures. As soon as Mokti was out of the room, Gorl scolded Sunti in a manner she had seldom experienced saying, "I have asked you many times to avoid attempts at humor where your medical condition is concerned."
"Gorl, she thought it was funny, too! Why can't you let me handle this in my own way, complete with occasional denial and self-deprecating humor?" Sunti tried another chuckle, but it exited her body as a quiet, tearful sob. Gorl quickly rushed to her and held her against his own heaving chest, wishing he could take her sentence and free her to continue this life and their research without the continued hindrance of this beast of a disease.
Frankly, he didn't want the burden of carrying on the work alone. No matter how close they were to a major breakthrough in the gene mapping of the Hideous Thief (Gorl’s chosen nickname for DND527), he was ready to hop a freighter straight to Okudu in Sector 12 where the climate was warm with lush rainforests and vast, sandy beaches. He'd give 20 years of his life to spend the rest of Sunti's together with her on the beaches of Okudu watching the double sunset in the pink-purple haze.
"Gorl, I will not give up! I know that distance in your gaze, and I will not throw my hands up and go on holiday! Dammit! That really angers me beyond reason!" Sunti stormed away to pout before going back to the lab to check on Mokti's progress. Gorl snapped out of his Okudu daydream, and polished off his midday nutrients. He went straight to Polar's physical training pod to work off his growing frustration.
"Dr. Uzhan! Come quickly!" Mokti looked up from her Gilascope when she heard Sunti enter the lab. "Dr. Uzhan, I think we've located it! I think we've found the gene! Look at this!" With a great effort, Sunti suppressed her excitement and calmly approached Mokti's scope. Looking down on the digisome micromap, she questioned her own perception. Was she seeing THE suspect gene they'd been seeking for eleven years? No, she couldn't even bear to venture a judgment.
"Gorl," she coarsely whispered into her wrist, "you must stop whatever you're doing and come to the lab. Quickly!"
Breathlessly, Gorl replied, "Are you ailing, Sunti? You sound very agitated."
Through gritted teeth, Sunti feigned calmness and said, "Stop punching and kicking that holoponent, and get over here." Gorl was finally beginning to get the best of the level 7 holoponent in his Jujitsu training, but the urgency in Sunti's voice compelled him to stop, run through the sonigienic and get to the lab.
"Yes, Mokti, yes! Sunti, this is it! We've located it! Let's isolate this and run it through the datacomp to isolate the true cases. We should have our agent of cause momentarily." They each sat down at a separate MedTerm and began synching. Soon the display confirmed their suspicions and legitimized their eleven years of hard work, uncomfortable isolation, and constant begging for continued funding from the Alliance.
The data were immediately en route to the Central Research Institute in the Earth city of Chicago. Within hours, the data had been received, a vaccine had been formulated and hypostreams were being administered to all patients of DND527, at every stage of the disease. Although the results wouldn't be immediately apparent, the faulty DND527 gene would have instantly been deactivated and the other genes would have been coded to begin repairs. Within days, sometimes hours, every patient on the planet diagnosed with the disease would be regenerating proper neural connections without plaques and tangles to interfere with the transmission of neural impulses. Their memories would not regenerate, but they would regain full neural function in less than one week. Some would not experience complete healing because of the decreased functioning of other major body systems, but with DND527 eliminated, they would be eligible for organ renewal within weeks.
The accomplishments of the Drs. Uzhan were being celebrated all over Planet Earth while Gorl quickly prepared the proper hypostream for Sunti. Mokti held Sunti's hand and anxiously monitored the MedTerm readouts for signs of healing. As soon as the hypostream entered Sunti's bloodstream, the neural readouts began to change. Atrophied neurons regenerated and began firing like tiny electrical storms in Sunti's brain. She rested in a dreamlike state as Mokti and Gorl wept with joy for the miracle they had been a part of on this day.
A Short Story by Rebecca Montalbano
"Crap! I bit my tongue again! This disease is a real pain!" Sunti brushed off her genuine concern with a light chuckle.
Gorl and Mokti exchanged nervous glances before Mokti joined in the faux laughter. The disease wasn't supposed to progress this quickly, and the doctors and their research assistant knew it. When Sunti was diagnosed, they both knew instantly what lay ahead of them, but the speed of progression in her case was a mystery. They had a great deal of experience with the disease, not just because of their vocation, but also as a result of their own research, painstakingly carried out over the past eleven years.
On Earth, it was called Alzheimer's Disease, but on the station at the far end of the galaxy, it was called Degenerative Neural Disorder 527 - DND527. Sunti had been diagnosed just a year ago during her routine annual DNA screening. The symptoms had begun to manifest only months after the test results displayed on the MedTerm, but they shouldn't have been noticeable for another eight to ten years,.
Instead of Sunti losing her short-term memory or her ability to make rational judgments, DND527 was causing fine motor skill problems. Her sketches had become unrecognizable, she failed to enter her codes properly, and she kept having difficulty chewing and swallowing.
Most disturbing to both of them was that Sunti was completely aware of her diagnosis and the increasing intensity of her symptoms, both of which elude perception in most DND527 patients. Gorl kept a strong countenance in mixed company, but fell apart the second he and Sunti were alone together. He knew they had only months left to share, and he was already grieving the loss of his mate of 18 years.
Mokti finished her midday nutrients and exited the arboretum to check on her current group of cultures. As soon as Mokti was out of the room, Gorl scolded Sunti in a manner she had seldom experienced saying, "I have asked you many times to avoid attempts at humor where your medical condition is concerned."
"Gorl, she thought it was funny, too! Why can't you let me handle this in my own way, complete with occasional denial and self-deprecating humor?" Sunti tried another chuckle, but it exited her body as a quiet, tearful sob. Gorl quickly rushed to her and held her against his own heaving chest, wishing he could take her sentence and free her to continue this life and their research without the continued hindrance of this beast of a disease.
Frankly, he didn't want the burden of carrying on the work alone. No matter how close they were to a major breakthrough in the gene mapping of the Hideous Thief (Gorl’s chosen nickname for DND527), he was ready to hop a freighter straight to Okudu in Sector 12 where the climate was warm with lush rainforests and vast, sandy beaches. He'd give 20 years of his life to spend the rest of Sunti's together with her on the beaches of Okudu watching the double sunset in the pink-purple haze.
"Gorl, I will not give up! I know that distance in your gaze, and I will not throw my hands up and go on holiday! Dammit! That really angers me beyond reason!" Sunti stormed away to pout before going back to the lab to check on Mokti's progress. Gorl snapped out of his Okudu daydream, and polished off his midday nutrients. He went straight to Polar's physical training pod to work off his growing frustration.
"Dr. Uzhan! Come quickly!" Mokti looked up from her Gilascope when she heard Sunti enter the lab. "Dr. Uzhan, I think we've located it! I think we've found the gene! Look at this!" With a great effort, Sunti suppressed her excitement and calmly approached Mokti's scope. Looking down on the digisome micromap, she questioned her own perception. Was she seeing THE suspect gene they'd been seeking for eleven years? No, she couldn't even bear to venture a judgment.
"Gorl," she coarsely whispered into her wrist, "you must stop whatever you're doing and come to the lab. Quickly!"
Breathlessly, Gorl replied, "Are you ailing, Sunti? You sound very agitated."
Through gritted teeth, Sunti feigned calmness and said, "Stop punching and kicking that holoponent, and get over here." Gorl was finally beginning to get the best of the level 7 holoponent in his Jujitsu training, but the urgency in Sunti's voice compelled him to stop, run through the sonigienic and get to the lab.
"Yes, Mokti, yes! Sunti, this is it! We've located it! Let's isolate this and run it through the datacomp to isolate the true cases. We should have our agent of cause momentarily." They each sat down at a separate MedTerm and began synching. Soon the display confirmed their suspicions and legitimized their eleven years of hard work, uncomfortable isolation, and constant begging for continued funding from the Alliance.
The data were immediately en route to the Central Research Institute in the Earth city of Chicago. Within hours, the data had been received, a vaccine had been formulated and hypostreams were being administered to all patients of DND527, at every stage of the disease. Although the results wouldn't be immediately apparent, the faulty DND527 gene would have instantly been deactivated and the other genes would have been coded to begin repairs. Within days, sometimes hours, every patient on the planet diagnosed with the disease would be regenerating proper neural connections without plaques and tangles to interfere with the transmission of neural impulses. Their memories would not regenerate, but they would regain full neural function in less than one week. Some would not experience complete healing because of the decreased functioning of other major body systems, but with DND527 eliminated, they would be eligible for organ renewal within weeks.
The accomplishments of the Drs. Uzhan were being celebrated all over Planet Earth while Gorl quickly prepared the proper hypostream for Sunti. Mokti held Sunti's hand and anxiously monitored the MedTerm readouts for signs of healing. As soon as the hypostream entered Sunti's bloodstream, the neural readouts began to change. Atrophied neurons regenerated and began firing like tiny electrical storms in Sunti's brain. She rested in a dreamlike state as Mokti and Gorl wept with joy for the miracle they had been a part of on this day.
Monday, January 17, 2005
I drive me completely crazy!
Admittedly, it's not a long-distance drive (in the South, we'd say "fur piece") or anything, but I absolutely don't understand myself sometimes. When faced with the syllabi (plural for syllabus, because syllabusses sounds so stupid and syllabi doesn't?), I'm plunking down the necessary time to read about 40 novels between now and May, no less than 4 textbooks, countless articles, and who knows what else! I'll also write multiple entries in my journal (as an assignment), create a literature file entry for each book I read, and write multiple papers for each class.
What is it inside me that drives me to know beyond a shadow of a doubt that I'll do all this work and make and "A" in each class while taking care of 4 small children, my house, my job, my husband, my friends, and my fitness needs? If I weren't taking these classes that had these assignments neatly listed with due dates on a piece of cheap copier paper, would I do anywhere near this much mental work? NO!
Why is the business of my LIFE and enriching it with literature and writing activities less important than these stupid classes? Why don't I have a sense of urgency and importance about every day that I have on Planet Earth?
I could die in my sleep having never written the great novel. I could be in a traffic accident tomorrow having never read all the classic novels, never having seen a Broadway musical, never having been to the opera or the ballet. Yet, if you have a PhD after your last name, and I'm paying you gobs of money to complete a transcript, and you hand me a cheap piece of copier paper with a schedule of activities on it, my little brain just sets to work to figure out the best way to accomplish everything you ask and MORE! That is quite maddening.
Maybe that's why faith is so difficult for me. God Almighty didn't give me a syllabus when I decided to believe in Him. He didn't give me a "to do" list, a timetable, or even a set of precise instructions. He provided a great basic direction in the Bible, and I really appreciate it, but I think way too much to be left alone with all this time, money, resources and energy. God must be a constructivist.
What is it inside me that drives me to know beyond a shadow of a doubt that I'll do all this work and make and "A" in each class while taking care of 4 small children, my house, my job, my husband, my friends, and my fitness needs? If I weren't taking these classes that had these assignments neatly listed with due dates on a piece of cheap copier paper, would I do anywhere near this much mental work? NO!
Why is the business of my LIFE and enriching it with literature and writing activities less important than these stupid classes? Why don't I have a sense of urgency and importance about every day that I have on Planet Earth?
I could die in my sleep having never written the great novel. I could be in a traffic accident tomorrow having never read all the classic novels, never having seen a Broadway musical, never having been to the opera or the ballet. Yet, if you have a PhD after your last name, and I'm paying you gobs of money to complete a transcript, and you hand me a cheap piece of copier paper with a schedule of activities on it, my little brain just sets to work to figure out the best way to accomplish everything you ask and MORE! That is quite maddening.
Maybe that's why faith is so difficult for me. God Almighty didn't give me a syllabus when I decided to believe in Him. He didn't give me a "to do" list, a timetable, or even a set of precise instructions. He provided a great basic direction in the Bible, and I really appreciate it, but I think way too much to be left alone with all this time, money, resources and energy. God must be a constructivist.
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