Just saying...
I don't want to do my report cards. Not too excited about parent conferences next week either. But it's the report card doing that I hate.
I say this exact thing three times a year.
If I ever work at a school with a quarter system instead of a trimester system, I will say it four times a year.
I got a new student on Tuesday. Fresh from El Salvador and doesn't know a word of English. Well, not on Tuesday, she didn't. We've already been teaching her words, so she knows a few now. It must be really hard, to be in a class full of people and not understand a single thing that is being said. It must be hard for her to watch me standing in front of the room, talking talking talking, writing on the board, pointing at things, and not have a clue of what any of it is about. She must feel strange when all the other kids suddenly get out of their seats and go sit on the rug, or when her whole table suddenly gets out of their seats and put themselves in a line by the door. She must wonder what those stories I read are about, or what the joke was when everyone laughs. She'll be OK, she's a bright girl, and I and most of the kids in her class are able to talk with her in a language she understands. She already reads and writes in Spanish, so switching over to English won't be too hard. It won't be easy, but she'll get it. I just think about how she must feel, now, during her first days in this new country and new school with all new rules and customs and procedures all happening in a language she doesn't understand. It must be really weird.
I say this exact thing three times a year.
If I ever work at a school with a quarter system instead of a trimester system, I will say it four times a year.
I got a new student on Tuesday. Fresh from El Salvador and doesn't know a word of English. Well, not on Tuesday, she didn't. We've already been teaching her words, so she knows a few now. It must be really hard, to be in a class full of people and not understand a single thing that is being said. It must be hard for her to watch me standing in front of the room, talking talking talking, writing on the board, pointing at things, and not have a clue of what any of it is about. She must feel strange when all the other kids suddenly get out of their seats and go sit on the rug, or when her whole table suddenly gets out of their seats and put themselves in a line by the door. She must wonder what those stories I read are about, or what the joke was when everyone laughs. She'll be OK, she's a bright girl, and I and most of the kids in her class are able to talk with her in a language she understands. She already reads and writes in Spanish, so switching over to English won't be too hard. It won't be easy, but she'll get it. I just think about how she must feel, now, during her first days in this new country and new school with all new rules and customs and procedures all happening in a language she doesn't understand. It must be really weird.