I love poetry. Love love love love it. It's my life, afterall--I write it, I read it, I advocate for it. My administrator and I share that love, apparently...it's crazy to think that such a hard-headed, autocratic, and pretty insulting guy can be such a lover of poetry. And make me impressed and want to befriend him (in the way that only an administrator and teacher can befriend each other--by talking about cool things besides school and not in the let's get some drinks kind of way).
So, judgments are what they are...and I think I'm pretty right to say that he can be a jerk--he's the causal of many a frustration on my team and also his dept...but, at the same time, man, he's got some poetry history! Was in this famous African American poet MFA called Kave Kanem (sp?), and was taught by Yusuf Komunyaaka and Marylin Nelson...damn!
Well, anyhow...I'm still stressed to the nines, though a tad less so. I went pretty militant on my students the other day (my fourth period), and kept them there after the bell rang for three whole minutes of silence while they practiced their rotations from station to station. It was murder for them, and myself, but it certainly worked. Also, that day that I was feeling terrible, my lovely colleague came to watch me and helped me re-structure my room, so now I have a clear small group area that avoids all the chatter and ridiculousness that led to my downfall (of sorts). Now, my small group runs relatively smoothly, and I think we've been doing pretty well for ourselves on getting the reading done. Almost done with it, anyhow.