Through the metal detector.
Luckily, I had driven to the city, brought an extra pair of interview pants, and was staying with a most accomodating friend, so I could afford to stick around for an extra day. The next morning, I got a call from an eighth grade teacher at another school where the principal had seemed to like me, so now I had two schools to visit.
After wandering the wrong way for a bit through the Cypress Hills neighborhood, I finally found the first school on my list - a high school. Turns out, taking off your shoes when you go through the metal detector is just for airports. The security guard in the school's lobby had to call on her walkie talkie to the guard upstairs to let her know I was coming up to the second floor.
(Back at my high school, I used to be able to wander out of class, pick up orders of Bojangle's chicken and biscuits for all of my friends, and make it back in before the substitute noticed me missing. Guess that kind of stuff doesn't fly in Brooklyn.)
After I had found my way to his office, the school's Vice Principal for English took me on a tour. This involved him unlocking classroom doors at random and barging in on some surprised teachers and students, and then making loud comments like,
"So, this is a tenth grade English class. They seem to be working in groups at the moment. Ms. So and So is one of our better teachers - oh, and she's a Teaching Fellow too! Maybe you can talk to her after class! Ms. So and So, come over here."
He didn't seem to see any problem with this, but it made me pretty uncomfortable to be thrust into the front of twenty-five surprised looking kids and some slightly annoyed teachers.
"Step on in," he kept having to tell me, and I mumbled, "Sorry for the interruption," as I shook the teachers' hands.
A few seemed to welcome the break, but others seemed to think this was some kind of surprise inspection.
In one classroom, students were walking around at random, all talking. When we burst through the door, the harried looking teacher started screaming at them about some assignment they were supposed to be working on. The Vice Principal gave a few kids a look and told them to sit down. They seemed not to have thought of that.
"She's one of our weaker teachers," the VP told me as we left the classroom. "But we're supporting her, and she's getting better." I didn't say that I'd hate to have seen her classroom in September, but it must have been ugly.
After wandering the wrong way for a bit through the Cypress Hills neighborhood, I finally found the first school on my list - a high school. Turns out, taking off your shoes when you go through the metal detector is just for airports. The security guard in the school's lobby had to call on her walkie talkie to the guard upstairs to let her know I was coming up to the second floor.
(Back at my high school, I used to be able to wander out of class, pick up orders of Bojangle's chicken and biscuits for all of my friends, and make it back in before the substitute noticed me missing. Guess that kind of stuff doesn't fly in Brooklyn.)
After I had found my way to his office, the school's Vice Principal for English took me on a tour. This involved him unlocking classroom doors at random and barging in on some surprised teachers and students, and then making loud comments like,
"So, this is a tenth grade English class. They seem to be working in groups at the moment. Ms. So and So is one of our better teachers - oh, and she's a Teaching Fellow too! Maybe you can talk to her after class! Ms. So and So, come over here."
He didn't seem to see any problem with this, but it made me pretty uncomfortable to be thrust into the front of twenty-five surprised looking kids and some slightly annoyed teachers.
"Step on in," he kept having to tell me, and I mumbled, "Sorry for the interruption," as I shook the teachers' hands.
A few seemed to welcome the break, but others seemed to think this was some kind of surprise inspection.
In one classroom, students were walking around at random, all talking. When we burst through the door, the harried looking teacher started screaming at them about some assignment they were supposed to be working on. The Vice Principal gave a few kids a look and told them to sit down. They seemed not to have thought of that.
"She's one of our weaker teachers," the VP told me as we left the classroom. "But we're supporting her, and she's getting better." I didn't say that I'd hate to have seen her classroom in September, but it must have been ugly.
posted by Ms. Star at
1:32 PM
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