gcrossnoe's blog
Post 3: "Slice of Life" from Placement
I spend every Thursday afternoon at an after-school tutoring program at North Elementary School. I, along with other a few other college students, spend about an hour and a half with a group of 2nd and 3rd graders that have been identified by the school as students that need additional help with homework and reading. I was assigned one boy, Jason, and I work with him every week.
Jason is incredibly energetic, talkative, and bright. He has often finished his homework in class and asks me to create math problems on a small dry erase board for him to complete. He picks out books to read without complaint, and is able to read them aloud with an expected level of difficulty.
However, he does not like working at the computer. There is a reading program on the computer that each student is supposed to spend approximately 10 - 15 minutes on each afternoon, but Jason tries his best to get out of it. He haggles with me over the amount of time he is supposed to work, asking me if he can stop when the "big hand" on the clock is at a certain number. When we have agreed on a place where the "big hand" will indiciate he can quit the computer program, Jason often dawdles, speaks to other students, or asks to go to the restroom, hoping he can waste time.
Reflective Writing #2
I found Lareau's categorization of child-rearing into two distinct methods, concerted cultivation and the accomplishment of natural growth, and her ascription of each method to a specific socioeconomic class to be very problematic.
Education Autobiography (Gabrielle Crossnoe)
Chapter 1: Criss-Crossing the Map
Chapter 2: “Extra Extra Retarded”
Chapter 3: Here at Camp Phoenix
Chapter 4: The Chocolate Factory Manager
Chapter 5: Build Me Up Buttercup
Chapter 6: Symphony v. Latin
Chapter 7: The Letter
Chapter 8: 2am Steak ‘n Shake, Water Balloon Fights, and the River at Dawn
Chapter 9: Eastern Standard Time
Chapter 10: The Mawrtyr Returns
Chapter 7: The Letter
At this point, I was not simply upset with my high school administration. I was livid. I had spoken to teachers, principals, even the district school board, and yet, the only response I had received was silence. Perhaps they were under the impression that if they continued to ignore me, I would lose heart, sit down, give up. But this seventeen-year-old was not about to be muted.
