Tag: Education

Teaching

Another school year, another set of suicide classes

Alexandra Diane

Another school year brings another set of classes where teachers have to share partial information about suicide and other mental health issues receiving no true training or support. 

Today I showed students a three minute and forty-five second video that loosely touched on warning signs and I am not entirely sure what else. I had to talk to boys and thought now was the time to laugh and make fun of each other. My skin was already crawling because this topic puts me on edge. But to have kids laughing while others are visibly uncomfortable made it worse.

After separating the boys, the video was over. I opened the teacher’s lead discussion questions and just stared at them. 

What is suicide? 

Why is it important to talk about suicide? 

What are some signs that someone might be thinking about suicide?

What should you do if you or someone you know is thinking about suicide?

Who are some people who can help if someone is thinking about suicide?

These questions were empty. 

While I knew other teachers had no interest in engaging with their students on this topic, that wasn’t me. I’m still not sure how we can expect students to handle a heavy topic, gloss over important details, give them a pointless quiz, and then expect them to get back to their classwork. Just the same as if we asked them to color a dinosaur, not possible to trigger them. Fuck, they don’t even consider the teacher. 

Before this year, teaching the subject was bearable, but this year I had to truly mentally prepare myself. Less than two years ago, I was staring at a lake, wondering how long it would take my family to miss me if I drowned myself. 

So instead of turning the kids loose and leaving them to stew in whatever the mind funk the session left them in, I asked my own questions.

First, I asked how many had a friend tell them they wanted to kill themselves? More than I expected raised their hands. One of the annoying boys says “what if they were joking?” I asked “how many were serious?” The same hands stayed up. I called on a few students and asked them what they did. One said he didn’t leave his friend alone. The other said he showed his mom the messages and his mom talked to the student’s parents. I asked if the student was mad and mine said “yes but I’d do it again.” 

They were the amazing friends that saved someone’s lives that day. It was better to have them mad at them rather than dead. But I apologized to them and the class that this wasn’t something that was going to go away. As they grew older, they would lose more people in their lives. 

I told them the story of my friend Jeff, who took his own. How he was the most talented musician I knew. I explained that he always saw things with dark lenses and one day he viewed them through rose-colored glasses. A student asked, “isn’t that a good thing?” I said “no, because my friend in the years that I’ve known him had never been happy like that.” It was a major red flag. It was a personality change. I reminded them about how the video talked about personality changes, but it’s not always a dark and depressed person. I told them how to this day I wonder if my friend would be dead if I hadn’t lost his address. I remembered calling and calling his phone, texting him, asking what his address was. But there was no answer. Later, when I found out he took his life, I saw it was the day I was supposed to visit him. 

I then asked how many students I had in this class that I taught in middle school. Then I asked them if they noticed anything different about me when I returned from my maternity leave. None of them said they did. Then somehow I verbalized that a few weeks after Bb’s birth, I wanted to take my life. Through tears, I told them how Adelyn came up and held my hand. She said “mommy I need you.” Those were the words that stopped me from wandering off. 

A boy popped up and asked, “isn’t that postpartum depression?” 

I said, “yes it was, still is.” 

I explained that women can take around 5 years to return to their mental state. 

There was a collective sigh in the group. 

But I had to use this opportunity to reassure them that seeking help was okay. I shared with them how I’ve been through therapy and how it’s okay to get help. I also encouraged them to talk to their parents. That in a perfect world, their parents will always be there to help them and if they didn’t have their parents, there is a campus full of adults here to help them. 

I shifted the focus to a new icon added by the student portal. This icon is called trusted adults. A few kids giggled at the idea. I told them it wasn’t dumb or pointless. The school wanted to make sure that the students understood they could talk to their teachers. I let them know that I’m always available if they need someone to talk to about issues that they couldn’t discuss with their parents. There would be no doubt that I would call them dumb, because most of the time it’s something super dumb. However, no matter what, I would encourage them to talk to their parents and help them figure out the best way to discuss it with them.. 

But I also clarified that I am a mandatory reporter. Reporting anything that happens to them or their friends is not just a legal obligation for me, but a commitment I will fulfill. Because I’d rather they be mad at me, but alive. I also suggested that if they ever get a message from their friends that they don’t know what to do about that, they could send it to me and I would be the one to report it. That way, they could genuinely tell their friends that they said nothing. 

We eventually had to take the short quiz and fill out the worksheet. 

After the bell rang, a few students came up to me and said thank you. 

I don’t know if this was too much, but it felt necessary. I couldn’t leave them to stew or think suicide was something that only happened to sad people. Throughout the next four years, I wanted to ensure they were aware I was available to help and that I would be a supportive listener for them. 

Teaching

PEBCAK

Alexandra Diane

PEBCAK: Problem Exists Between Chair and Keyboard

I thought when I transferred from the newsroom to the classroom that I wouldn’t be playing tech support for my co-workers. My prediction was somewhat correct. I’m no longer tech support for my co-workers, however I am teaching basic computer skills far more than I ever expected to.

There is something terrifying about this generation. 

They were born with technology at their fingertips, yet none of them grasp how to use it. 

Today students were removing footage from their SD card. That isn’t something that I fault them not understanding, since every camera records footage in their own unique way. I was shocked to discover that not a single student could create a new folder or identify their desktop versus Google Chrome. A few didn’t even know how to right click with a basic mouse. Nearly every student told me that outside of a Chromebook, they did not use a computer. That was if they used a Chromebook, most simply used their phone or tablet. 

I thought the tech issues ‌were bad when I taught middle school. But those students, who are now sophomores, had stronger skills. These freshmen seem even more perplexed when using basic tech. 

It’s bizarre that most of these kids didn’t know how to click a mouse. When I tell them to right click on the mouse, they either double tap the left button or they just barely click the Right mouse button. And when we’re going back to regular clicking instead of clicking the left mouse button, they use the right one. Because all these kids have ever used is the trackpad or their finger on a phone or a tablet. 

It’s not just computing they have an issue with. Students keep confusing SD cards with SIM cards. They are not the same and despite my constant corrections; they don’t understand the difference between the cards. SIM cards allow mobile users to connect to phones to the network and it stores their user information. While an SD is a removable memory card. I’m sure you’re aware there’s a big difference between cellular connection and data storage. Apparently, the kids don’t think it’s a big deal.

I’m not sure when we stopped teaching kids how to type correctly, but I’m sure it’s around the same point when we stopped teaching cursive. We need kids to read cursive so they can read original documents and sign their name. At this point, I think we’re just going to have people marking X instead of signing their name like a pirate. 

That’s how I feel every time I’m asking these kids to type out a simple word and they’re hunting and pecking. Nobody knows what homeroom keys are. Nobody understands that if a word is already highlighted, they just have to type. They don’t need to press delete. They don’t need to do anything extra.

As I am teaching kids how to add new folders to their desktop, I am also teaching them how to copy files from their SD card and transfer it to their desktop. Watching kids figure out how to operate a mouse to highlight the files is entertaining and frustrating all at the same time. Teaching them shortcut keys like pressing control n to open a new file is mind-boggling to them. Pressing Ctrl a to highlight all the files that they need is magic. I don’t know how these kids have been using devices basically since kindergarten and nobody has actually explained to them what to do. 

We are doing these kids a disservice by not actually having basic computer classes anymore. I remember in elementary school where we would go to the computer lab and we would do typing drills and we would practice using our keyboards and did fun games. But in reality, these games were teaching us how to use the mouse correctly. These games that we would try to beat the leaderboards on were teaching us how to type correctly. It’s always funny to have my students watch me type a document as they’re talking to me and I’m not looking at my keys. It’s almost as if I’m an alien.

This is just a very bizarre world and I wonder how employers are dealing with the young adults entering the workforce. Are they sitting down with these fresh adults and showing them how to use a computer? Are these people asking questions or are they just staring at a desktop computer for the first time, hoping they can make it work? 

I could easily just say I teach TV production, not an intro to computer course, and leave it at that. But before I can have my students edit, I have to make sure they know how to operate a computer at the level that I was doing in elementary school. 

Thankfully, my students seem eager this year, but they aren’t ready to get into the nitty gritty. We’ve spent the last week putting cameras on tripods and learning how to use a professional camera. I hope when we open up Adobe Premiere Monday, things go smoothly. But I know I’ll be spending more time than I want teaching basic tech and how to operate a real computer.

Teaching

Disappointment in the classroom

Alexandra Diane

I didn’t think I would write about students so soon. But as I concluded day two, I already experienced two very fun incidents that left me shaking my head and disappointed. I hope this doesn’t foreshadow what’s to come this year. 

Monday started out with an extended drive to work. The roads were filled with more drivers due to it being the first day back to school. That meant there were a lot of new drivers out there. I’m not sure if those were responsible for the accidents and delays or just distracted drivers. But ‌it didn’t help matters much, that the city decided the perfect time to start construction, just north of the school, was the week before. Thankfully, they hadn’t shut it down to one lane, like they did when the teachers returned to school. However, things were still a mess.

I was hoping this was going to be the worst of my Monday and, for a few hours, it was. That’s only because I have planning periods in the morning and there weren’t any students to harsh my mellow. Honestly, I was looking forward to my third and fourth period classes. The classes were filled with mostly juniors who were excited to work with some of my best seniors. I had the first week already planned out months ago. Which meant nothing because during pre-school week I learned that administration wanted to have class meetings during 3rd and 4th period. So I adjusted and could still coordinate what I wanted to teach. 

As I greeted my new set of students, some I knew while others were brand new, they all claimed a seat and were talking to themselves. My first error was not checking their schedules. I figured they were all upperclassmen that knew whether they would be in film or news. I didn’t think I needed to check anyone’s schedule because I recognized 90% of their faces from the roaster I had checked minutes before. I called attendance and everyone answered “here”. 

Once it came time for me to breakdown how the year was going to go, one very large student was getting vocal with their friend. I kept having to ask this student to remove their headphones or quit talking. A few times, they would snicker when I said if they didn’t stop talking to their friend, I would ensure they sat apart for the next few weeks. When it came time to break into groups, they begged to work with their bestie. I shared the three songs everyone could choose from, explained the importance of making a detailed shot list before filming, and mentioned that the quick turnaround would be challenging. Leaving the students to it I sat down. Not even two minutes later the snickering student comes up to my desk. 

“Ms.” the student snickers. “I can’t believe it. I’m in the wrong class. I’m supposed to be in news.” 

I am completely taken back. The pain in the butt answered during attendance. I don’t have patience for people who waste my time and are in the wrong place, I would have kicked him out right away. “No way, give me your schedule.” 

And of course, the student was right. Snickering and being as boisterous as possible, the student shouts to their friend, “Man, good luck with this class, she gives way too much work. I’m going to Wrights.”

As annoyed as I was that student acted out and thought they would cause a disruption to the class. The person they were acting out with drastically changed their behavior. No longer were they acting too cool for the music video project, they became an active participant in the project. 

I warned the other teacher about the disruptors’ actions, and he was disappointed and surprised at the students’ actions. After that class, I check every single student’s schedule. I didn’t want a repeat.

Unfortunately that student’s first and last name is burned into my mind now. I expected little from them after that. However, today before fourth period, the student came to me and apologized for their actions. I hope they were genuine because if that student is coming with us to any competitions this year; they have already lost my trust. I expect this student to act a fool until proven otherwise.

Again, I allowed myself to believe that disruptaurus was going to be the worst of it this week. Students tend to be on their best behavior during the first week. You know, slowly letting the crazy out. And to be honest, having a kid try to figure out what class they want to take by sitting in and being a bone head wasn’t that bad. What happened during a freshmen class left me speechless. 

The students received a packet containing my syllabus, the academy handbook, and a cell phone policy, all for their parents to sign. We request that every student who can pay contribute an academy fee of 40 dollars. I’ve learned that if I give a grade for the signatures, students return the papers quicker, and I don’t spend weeks hunting them down. Thankfully, the freshmen this year were prepared and in one class in particular two students had money for their fees. 

Before I collected their papers, I asked the students to get into groups and work on their favorite movies slideshow. I did this so I could walk around the class, talk to the students and collect their papers while others are busy being on task. One student paid in cash. I collected his papers and picked up the next row. I was worried about dropping his money, so I put the stack of papers on my desk and headed back to get the rest. After I collected the rest of the papers, I looked at my desk and the cash was missing. I retrace my steps and start looking on the floor next to the row that I left. 

“Are you okay?” A student asks me.

“R did you hand me the money or did I ask you to keep it?” I ask the student in the row ahead of where I was standing. 

“I gave it to you,” he says matter-of-factly.

I turned to the student who asked me if I was okay and asked, “did you see money by your desk?” 

That student shake’s their head but says “No, but those guys were asking whose money was on the floor.” 

The whole row confirms that the row behind them was asking about money. 

So I stare at the third row and every single student in that row can not make eye contact with me. That is a handful of students whose faces are bright red and darting around. 

“Did anyone happen to find money on the floor?” I asked hoping to god someone will just say oh yeah I found it. 

The lies pour quickly out of everyone’s mouth. “No, I didn’t see any money? Money why would there be money? What kind of money?” 

I had to keep my cool because I wanted to throw some FCC finds at them. “Don’t lie, six students just confirmed you all were talking about money on the floor.” 

I turn to one who has the reddest face. Eventually, that student puts their hand in their pocket and magically pops out a twenty. “I just saw it and -” 

I took it from them and walked to my desk. Before I could sit back down, I hear, “Ms! I think there’s another twenty on the floor.”

I love how things just appeared when the floor was bare, and I had moved backpacks around to double check before asking a single one of them. When I went to take the money from the group, I made it very clear how disappointed I was in their actions. 

“When you find money on the floor, a classroom floor no less, that doesn’t belong to you. I am collecting money. You know I am collecting money and your first response to seeing something on the floor is to take it? Not bring it to me and ask if someone may have dropped it. I would understand if it was in the middle of the courtyard, filled with people or empty, that it would be hard to find the owner. But in a classroom where you know money is being moved really speaks a lot to everyone, one of you in this group’s character.” The two who pocketed the money won’t look at me, while the others just hang their heads. “In this class we are checking out equipment that cost upwards to thousands of dollars at a time. Sometimes classmates are going to forget headphones and SD cards in their bags. I expect you all to be good stewards and classmates to turn those items in, not steal them. Because one day you will forget something or drop something and I hope it’s around people who return things and not just take them like someone in your group did.”

The bell rang not too long after that and that entire group rushed out of the class. I  heard mutterings of kids saying they can’t believe that everyone just went along with it and no one said anything. 

That made me feel a little better to hear there were those in the room that were disappointed by their classmates’ actions. 

I am not sure how I can combat stealing or poor character, but I know that class has lost its ability to have open seating. I want to be sure that none of those students are sitting next to each other. 

So two days down and only a 178 left to go. 

Hopefully, the rest of the week is less eventful. 

Teaching

More than teaching

Alexandra Diane

What is the legacy you want to leave behind?

Everyday someone’s son or daughter walks through my door. They are called students. In elementary school, students spend more time with their teacher than they do with their families. In middle school, students suddenly face six teachers. The comfort of seeing the same face every day is broken. Watching sixth graders adjust to this new world is adorable and scary all at the same time. Moving to high school, I watched a lower amount of anxiety pour out of the freshmen. Maybe it’s because I’m a mother or empathetic, but I try to remember that these adult looking bodies in my room are still children. 

It’s frustrating to deal with students who just don’t care. In some classes, it becomes a cancer that spreads and students who were working eventually stop. I can’t lash out or treat the cancers like I would an adult. There’s a root to the issue and most of the time it’s outside the classroom. The seniors who are graduating in a few days grew into their own during covid so their reality is warped. The adults didn’t know how to handle what was going on, so they didn’t hold the students accountable and gave them chance after chance to make a half-hearted effort. 

This was a failure on our part. How could we expect children who entered high school to care when they grew up watching everyone shut down? Their freshman year, the year where teachers are supposed to instill deadlines and expectations, was null and void. They were still robbed of their sophomore year, where students pick up on social cues and are growing into mini adults. Half online, half in the classroom. Students just weren’t working and those who did work felt like it wasn’t fair. 

I was teaching middle school. Kids complained about how it wasn’t fair that the people online didn’t have to do the same amount of work. I had to figure out the nicest way to say “life isn’t fair. It’ll never be fair.” But how do you explain this to someone else’s child without being a dick? I am straightforward, in an age appropriate manner, with my own children. My husband and I don’t hide things from our kids, but that doesn’t mean my students get the same honesty at home. I’ve learned that the hard way when I speak plainly and have been told that I am too harsh and should be more sensitive. I had a student not complete his work, and he responded with a very sarcastic “sorry I didn’t do it.” This was the third assignment that the student hadn’t completed for the quarter, so I was peeved when I responded to him. His mother went to administration saying I was too cruel when I responded with “It’s your grade that’s going to be sorry since you didn’t complete your work.” 

I held my tongue that day. I wanted to tell his mother that her child was lazy, disrespectful to me and rude to his classmates. Instead, I smiled and said, “well if he just completed his work, there wouldn’t be a problem.” This student is now a junior at a different high school from where I teach at. His girlfriend is in my program and she’d told me he still doesn’t like to do his work, however he misses me because “I keep it real.” 

I don’t want to be mean to my students. I don’t want to raise my voice because I don’t want my son and daughter to deal with that at school. However, it’s a losing battle. My freshmen were in sixth grade during covid so they are little electronic junkies. Headphones in no matter where they go. Glued to their cell phone FaceTiming with friends in class, just like they did when they were at home pretending to care about their classes. I must raise my voice to be heard over their loud chatter, and with 30 people in one room,I’m still not heard. 

I wish I could collect all their phones and stash them away. But their parents get upset if they can’t text their child right away. I have to remove myself from a parental mindset. Yes, I want to text my kids during class, but they should give their teacher their full attention. I think covid broke the adults too. They were so used to the consent connection with their child that they don’t know how to function without the instant response.  

But then I have students who come to me because they don’t have that connection with their parents. My classroom door needs to be replaced with a revolving one, so I stop having to answer each knock from a girl having a meltdown. My teacher hat kind of goes away although I don’t really put on a mom hat, but I just listen. Sometimes they like what I have to say, other times I get a whining “Mrs. Jenkins!” because I didn’t take their side. I try to give them real life advice for the problems they are facing. Mean girl issues don’t go away just because you graduate and crappy relationship issues only get worse. 

One of my male students came in his last few days of school and just word vomited about the problems he was having with his ex. He was graduating, and she was mad about how things ended. I take everything my students tell me with a grain of salt. However, the drama he was dealing with was a lot. The only advice I could give him was you’re graduating. You won’t be seeing her anymore. If she needed him to be the villain in her story, so be it. Someone is always the villain and if you know you did nothing wrong, then let her process that way. 

I know these students are people’s sons and daughters. My heart hurts when I listen to their stories that they cannot share with their parents. I wish they could talk to their parents with the honesty that they share with me. My kids know they can open up to me without judgment, but they may not feel comfortable discussing their problems with me. Children don’t ever want to disappoint their parents. They don’t want their parents to see them in a negative light, and sometimes it’s easier to talk to a neutral party. I hope other teachers open themselves to their students, being that ear for their students to vent their frustration and fears. 

Teaching, Writing

My Career has never been one direction

Alexandra Diane

What is your career plan?

What’s my career plan?

Well, that’s a loaded question.

Twenty years ago, I would have told you I wanted to be a scriptwriter. I had all these wild dreams about heading out to Hollywood and writing movies. However, after spending a summer in Santa Monica, Venice Beach, and exploring California, I decided that it wasn’t the place for me. It wasn’t long before I gave up this dream. I never stopped writing, but scripts were no longer my focus. This was back in the early 2000s, the idea of working virtual wasn’t an option. So I changed directions. 

One direction was where I would live. I love the east coast. It’s the best coast. The people, the weather, and the speed of life  — something about it fuels my soul where the west coast sucked the life out of me. Now I had to add something else to my plan. Where I would live. I had always thought I could live anywhere. That wasn’t true. I need humidity to thrive and the sea breeze washed away my worries. So my living situation had become a key factor in my career search. Virginia, North Carolina, Savannah or even my home state of Florida were where I wanted to grow my professional life. 

My professional life needed to match what brought me joy. That’s being creative. I have had jobs in the past where I was stuck in a cubical filling out excel spreadsheets and staring at the wall daydreaming when I could leave. This meant applying for jobs out of state. Florida is great for hospitality but not so much for those who want to work in film, news or marketing. The rational part of my brain knew I might have to leave Florida. But because I was young and dumb, I received more than a few job offers I regret not accepting. 

Sometimes I want to shake that girl. Tell her to take the risk before starting a family. I traveled enough to know that I could leave. I could survive. However, I didn’t want to leave the person I was dating. Even when I knew it wasn’t a forever, end game type of relationship. All of this is laughable because in my late twenties I left a job in political news to move to a different country for my ex husband. 

That didn’t last. I felt lost for the months I lived there. I was supposed to focus on writing, but depression set in.I didn’t have something that was mine to keep me busy. Other things also fueled my negative experience. I wrote short stories and wrote the manuscript Angelic Findings. But none of that left me satisfied. I needed to know I was doing something worthwhile. 

When I returned from Brazil, they offered me my job back. But things weren’t the same. The election ended, and the company did a massive downsizing. I was one of the handful of  people cut. This sent me down a different path. For about six months, I was an editor and producer for a financial show. It was weird. Every edit was under a microscope to be sure it was in compliance. Eventually, I left that job and ended up working for a local news station. 

I liked it there. I love how busy and chaotic things were. Hurricane days and breaking news kept things busy. Only I was missing time with my family. Birthdays skipped, vacations missed, holidays put on hold until my shift was over or I woke up from a nap. I needed a change. But I couldn’t follow my dreams of accepting a job in Virginia. We couldn’t leave. My parents are here and they help with my kids. And my stepson’s mom lives here as well.  I wanted to leave. I still want to leave. But I couldn’t. I can’t. So I left the only thing I could. I left my career in news. 

`However, I didn’t leave the world completely.  I ended up teaching, and it’s been oddly enjoyable. 

I work with students, teaching them how to write scripts, create films and edit mini news packages. I’m able to do all the things I love everyday, without having a boss breathing down my throat for insane deadlines or people trying to undercut each other for a raise. However, the students do that to each other daily. I try to explain to them that A. We’re not saving lives, it’s not serious. And B… to just do the work their lives would be that much easier. 

Sometimes I stare at them and wonder what the future of our world will be. They do some dumb shit on the daily. It makes my brain hurt and I wonder if they eat lead paint chips as babies. But at the same time, most are incredibly sweet. They genuinely want to learn. I’m talking about my high school students. My middle school students had me wanting to jump off a bridge with cement feet. 

So this is my twisty turny career path, always something creative, never leaving Florida. One day I’ll escape. I’ll have a cottage in the woods, far away from people. But until then, my students will slowly drive me insane, wondering if their strange ideas doom or save humanity. 

Writing

A Very Monday Monday

Alexandra Diane

There are days when I just want to work, not teach, but work. The last few days I have been compiling the 2-hour video premiere showcase thing that my school hosts at the end of the year. It represents the collective work of all the students. Not all but the best of the best. Some aren’t the best of the best but have great moments or highlight students that have put effort throughout the year. But I miss it. I miss just editing and fixing sound. In this case, I didn’t play with the color. I felt it was important that parents should see the color and the video that their kids created. Although I leveled the sound so eardrums didn’t burst and I made sure the audience could hear the words that were recorded. 

I started working on an after effects template that highlights pictures students sent me. I wanted the parents to see how much fun their kids are having and realize that their support has been worthwhile.

But I just miss focusing on working. 

I try to look at teaching as if I’m training the next set of creators. But somehow I have become a sounding board for my students. 90% of the time I do not mind it. I love listening to gossip and I no longer watch reality television or much TV anymore because the shit they say is highly entertaining. But at the same time, I wish I could just shake them. Tell them everything that they’re freaking out about is not that big of a deal. For the seniors that are graduating. All the drama that they’re facing right now goes away. They are moving on with life to an adult life where nobody cares. The campuses they’re about to enter are massive, so even if they have a former classmate at the same university, they might never see each other. 

I just miss working. I miss being creative without having to listen to my students bitch and moan about stuff that I’ve taught them repeatedly. I don’t understand why they can’t just get it through their thick skulls to write it down. I have them fight me tooth and nail to take notes. I look at my desk and it’s covered in sticky notes. I have notebooks filled with information and ways to help me, so I don’t forget things. But my students, dear God, you think I was asking them to run a marathon with a weight strap to their ankles. When I say hey, bring out your notebook and write this down, so when you forget, you don’t have to ask me 15 times. 

Today was exhausting. I woke up at 3:00 in the morning with a baby who is teething. He did not fall back asleep until 5:00. I slept through all of my alarms and somehow made it to work on time because of my husband. Thankfully, he took both children to where they needed to go this morning then drove 45 minutes south to work. 

I’m just tired. Only 16 school days remain and they will be packed with one exam after another. And I wish I could use those 16 days to show my students how to do something amazing. Instead, even if I tried to do that, the school district is picking up their laptops on Monday. So we will have two weeks of no computers. Which is great for a television production class. I wonder who makes these decisions and if they actually know the stress that they’ve just put on teachers. I doubt they care because most of the people that make these decisions were never in a classroom. 

Strangely enough, I looked at teaching as a way to earn my freedom back. Being an adult is so consuming. You work more than you see your family. You spend more time in an office or a cubicle with no windows. And if you’re a teacher, your windows must be covered. You cannot open them to see the sunshine in fear of somebody losing their shit and doing something violent.

But as I sit here in traffic, staring at the sign that tells me two miles to my exit, I am thankful that the universe stopped me. For an hour I stare at the sign, looking up from my book. After today, I needed to shut down. I needed to breathe after the chaos that was the last period of the day. I didn’t want it to be a turned over tractor trailer blocking my exit and I hope everyone involved is okay. But I am grateful for the reprieve. Because I had a chance to sit and think and I know the words that I want to use for the closing credits of our premier show. 

Tomorrow I get to go back to editing Angelic Findings. This has been a nice break, but I miss living in that world fleshing everything out. 

Lent

Day 37: STN: Closing Time

Alexandra Diane

During the first night of STN, we celebrated our awards. Seminole Ridge took home two third place and one second place awards. This is nothing to scoff at. Our kids worked their asses off this year. The news kids far more than the film kids. As we waited our turn to take pictures on the stage, the DJ began playing closing time. Part of me wanted to yell at him because one we earned our time to take this picture and two, the song isn’t about the bar closing. It’s about a chapter of the songwriter’s life ending. He was becoming a father and welcoming his baby girl into his life. But as I thought about that, I couldn’t think of a more appropriate song.

My students who are graduating this year are closing a giant chapter in their life. In three short months, a large portion of the thirty students I chaperoned will be heading off to college, while others will attend vocational school. But it doesn’t matter where their future is. They all have the same thing in front of them. The world is for them to take.

 I saw students that have screwed around for most of the year create an amazing news package. And with all honesty, I really wanted to smack them. Their work was professional. In all honesty, it surpassed some of the news packages that aired on the news station where I worked. I just wish they put the same effort into my film class as they did during this competition. Unfortunately, they didn’t even earn an honorable mention. 

Another pair of students that I watched worked took home honorable mention. Watching somebody who is usually a goofball transform into a professional was astounding. To see him work as a photographer like I have seen other seasoned photographer’s work gave me hope. He listened to everything his partner asked him. He never once changed her story, but he provided her with ideas about how the camera should be placed. But the moment the shoot was over, he went back to being a goofball. Which is pretty appropo for a photog. You should see what type of hungry fiends they turn into during the political season. No pizza is safe. 

Some of our young female journalists did not make the cut to place this year. And my heart breaks for them because this was their last year to win. In the past, our school brought home a truckload of awards. However, the judges were different this year. They critiqued much harder than the previous years. Even the board of directors, who is a friend of my co teacher, said that this year’s winners were quarters of a point off from those who didn’t place.

That’s amazing and depressing all at once. The bar has been raised and we need to work harder. That means that the sophomores that we brought with us are going to have to work three times as hard as those that are graduating this year. My juniors had a hunger as we flew home to Florida. They know the work that they have to put into it. Some sophomores seemed to not care while others showed a passion and a drive that is going to make them placed in the years to come. 

Unfortunately, judging is not everything that held us down. We shot ourselves in the foot from the beginning. Our vlog team kept fighting. And by the time they could finally sort things out and put egos aside, they wasted far too much time. It wasn’t just in California that they battled it out. Who would be on camera and who wouldn’t? They wasted a bunch of time back home, given the chance to practice. Aside from them, our film team was green. Not just age wise, but experience. Part of the fault is mine. This was my first time in a major competition, so I did not know what to expect. Two of our seniors, this was also their first time. And while we had someone experienced on our team, jealousy and anxiety overtook their ability to perform. The student also lost my trust. Sadly, this student got caught up in gossip and started a rumor of their own. They claimed that our strongest editor wasn’t skilled in their own right, but I did the work for them. 

This rumor was nothing more than utter nonsense. That student has heard me say time and time again, “if I wanted to edit I wouldn’t be teaching.” Which is 100% the truth. It’s just sad that I have gone out of my way for this student and in a moment of weakness, they had to bring down someone on their team. What’s even worse is I heard it on an accidental recording and that student lied to my face when confronted. 

But I will not let this moment or our lack of awards bring us down in the future. 

In the next two years, we have an advantage. Instead of Long Beach, California, we’re going to be in Tampa Bay, Florida. It’s just a quick drive across the state and one that we will scout out locations. One that we know the history of the city and all its dirty secrets. However, we’re not the only ones with the advantage. Over 200 awards were given out in Long Beach, California, with more than half awarded to students living in southeast Florida. Every single one of those schools has the same opportunity as we do. And I know a bunch of schools will take advantage of that opportunity.

So now, as closing time plays on my radio, all I can think of is that the chapter is closed. The point where we could take home award after award is over. Students from across the country, and now internationally, have come to compete. Our students have to step up. But I have 100% know that our kids are competitive. They have a drive needed to win. And for those students graduating, becoming young adults, they are going to do amazing things.

So who are we?! 

Hawks!!! 

Lent

Day 10: A taste of our future

Alexandra Diane

What advice would you give to your teenage self?

I haven’t been a teenager for a very long time. Over twenty years have passed since I had high expectations of what my life may be. I think back to what my life goals were and how much pressure I put on myself in some areas, and how I let the world pass by in others. Sometimes I wish I had more guidance on real life struggles rather than the obsessive thought process of college. However, none of that compares to the conversation I would have loved to have had with my fifteen-year-old self. 

I would love to hold her and tell her to let go of all her pain. She is beautiful and the pain she feels daily will one day fade away. That she isn’t crazy or a hypochondriac, the doctors that she’s been going to have been awful. Instead of doing the research, they were lazy and failed her. But her mother never did. She needs to appreciate how much her mom does, spending many days off in and out of the doctors trying to find out why her daughter’s body is attacking itself. 

I would tell her to watch for her brother. He’s suffering in his own way. He bottles up his emotions and releases them in the only way his brain can process. What you do for your four years of high school pulls him from his dark place. But keep doing that in college. You don’t want to lose your bother. Thankfully, you don’t. However, you won’t find out until years later you came close to it.

Your older cousin becomes more than that. She fills the void of an older sister. One that you are so desperate to fill. Even though she is 16 hours away, she becomes your best support throughout all the emotional struggles you go through as a young adult. Virgina becomes your solace and eventually you two travel the world with each other. Yes, you have friends outside of blood, but you will be so surprised by how close you two become. 

You are about to meet two of your closest friends in high school. You’ll spend four years studying film in high school, then go to college, and eventually work together before she moves to Virginia. Instead of mourning your loss, you two make plans to spend your summers together, because, as fate would have it, somehow you both end up working in education. Your other friend will also be by your side in college, though she drops out. Your kids have grown up with each other, or as much as you can, for having three kids in sports. P.S., that’s like the hardest thing about being an adult.

The bond you make with another you’ve shared the same name with since first grade is out of a pain no one should endure. Fail first marriages, abuse, rebuilding one another. Nevertheless, there is something to be said about this. Alex’s are strong. We are tenacious. We are crazy but support each other. 

You will meet two people in college, one male, one female in the strangest of places. The male you meet at a hookah bar during an open mic night. He now knows your innermost secrets and you torture him daily about finishing editing your writings. He is your best friend outside your husband who we will get to in a minute. Your female friend becomes your other half. You met her at a gymnastic studio and bond over how annoying children are when they are trying to kill themselves on a balance beam. 

Lastly, love. Don’t worry about love. Don’t search for love. I want to tell you to avoid all the pain that I have gone through. But that pain has made us strong. It has made us reliant. Those dark moments give us the ability to bond with the man who gave you your first kiss. He reaches out to you after what feels like a lifetime. You don’t know it then, but you’ve saved him. He was going to eat a bullet, but the universe stopped him when you said “Hi” thirteen years later. 

Actually, your friendship has saved many people. You never give up on those who are diving into the darkness. You are that annoying friend who won’t let people wallow in their misery and that’s sort of passed on to teaching.

So 15-year-old Alex… hold your breath. Shit is about to get real. 

Lent, Teaching

Day 6: I’m tellin’ y’all, it’s sabotage

Alexandra Diane

Today was a teacher’s work day. Students were supposed to be off, teachers were supposed to be in meetings, and having the chance to organize their lives. However for me that wasn’t the case. The TV production students are preparing for the Student Television Network (STN) competition out in Long Beach California. They will be participating in the team challenge Crazy 8 as well as individual challenges for two other days. 

The Crazy 8 challenge is two fold. We have news students and film students. The film students are given a title, a character line, prop, and shot required to be seen through the film. They have eight hours to write, film, and edit the final cut. The news students are given a topic, like “service with a smile,” to create a newscast around. They also have the same eight hour window. 

Last month when we held a mock competition I was right with my students. Held them to their times, reviewed their script, gave them suggestions on their shots. But we were unable to repeat the same magic. I had to participate in mandatory training which meant the students were on their own. I peeked at their final script and cringed but there was nothing I could do. They had to manage it on their own. 

There was more than just a poor script that sabotaged them. The location they based their story on was closed due to it being president’s day. The crew wasted an hour trying to find a new location and rewrite their script. While they adjusted the story there were still major plot holes. The script lacked a true first act. We were thrown into a fight between the only characters in the short film. There was nothing redeeming about them and I even texted a student about fixing the problem, however they did not take my advice. 

When we were all able to finally meet together the cast and crew were actually cordial with each other. While the editor got to work the rest of the crew relaxed and we started planning what we will be doing in California. This was a high contrast to the news students who were running around in a panic. There were attitudes being thrown left and right. One student came in and screamed at their partners. While I understand frustrations run high in a competition that is no way to treat the people you rely on. I am insanely petty and if my partner would have spoken to me in that way I would have flipped the bird and told that human to figure it out on their own. I know I have done that in the professional world. 

While that student was being handled by the news teacher, I was watching our editor break down. While our shoots were beautiful the audio was trash. Adobe has a new AI podcast web based element that helps clean up audio. We tried that and it resulted in the whole room laughing. Instead of fixing things it made the two actors turn into a mix of minions and chipmunks that sucked about seventeen helium balloons. Although this was not the result we were looking for, it did make us laugh. It was the mental break we needed after coming to the conclusion there was no saving the audio in the small window we had left. The editor took a song that fit (ish) the mood of the film and prayed it would mask all the issues. 

** Plot twist, it did not.**

When it came time to watch the news cast and film the problems followed. First the short film that the students submitted was not the three minutes that we shot.  It was only 49 seconds long. While my co-teacher / mentor teased the students about checking the exports, he pulled up the newscast. It was supposed to be 8 minutes long, however it was only 42 seconds. That’s when the whole class burst out laughing and teasing one another. The students who submitted the files opened the files, and at first glance they looked correct. The time codes gave the proper time, however when playing out the videos they both stopped at the 40ish mark. They were corrupted. We waited for the files to be fixed and then returned to watching the projects. 

The film students covered their heads and avoided stares from the news students. Of course our garbage sound was not covered by the music. And while we watched I just cringed waiting for it to end. I couldn’t connect with the characters. The varying audio levels made my ears want to bleed. As soon as it ended my co-teacher repeated all the comments that I had made during our editing process. 

When we started the news students project things started to go well. Although they had some soft focus shots their levels were far better than our film. Everything was going pretty smooth until a news package was cut short. That’s when my co-teacher ripped apart the news cast.

This was supposed to be our last practice before the competition. But this is not what not the level of work any of these students usually produced. I kept suggesting over and over again that we needed to hold another practice. That way we had a clean palette and no shame hovering over us. Eventually all students agreed as well as my co-teacher. So hopefully this extra practice will ensure that we won’t sabotage ourselves in California. 

Writing

Do what terrifies you

Alexandra Diane
Bloganuary writing prompt
What’s the thing you’re most scared to do? What would it take to get you to do it?
View all responses

I’ve taken bold steps like skydiving, leaving my old life behind to live in a foreign country where I didn’t speak the language, and transitioning my career from something I’ve done since I was fifteen years old – to teaching teenagers. However, I find nothing as terrifying as sharing my writing with the world. If skydiving takes a wrong turn, I’m dead. If living in a foreign country doesn’t work for me (which it really, really, really, didn’t) I could just return home. And my students will eventually graduate, leaving whatever memories of me to just that, memories. But when I bare my heart and soul into my work, I am leaving myself exposed to criticism from the world. I am allowing strangers a chance to read my work and comment on what I’ve shared. 

Growing up, I would write short stories and scripts. I didn’t know how to write in proper screenplay format, but that didn’t stop me. I would warn whoever read my work that I was still learning, and they were my friends. They didn’t know any better. But something happened when I reached college. I still wrote as an escape, especially from math class, but I stopped sharing my work with nearly everyone. I went from sharing my work with anyone who had an email address to just a very select group of people. I became terrified of two things: 

  1. People not liking my writing and telling me it was trash.
  2. I didn’t want anyone to know I had severe dyslexia. 

I was an awful speller and had atrocious grammar. Part of me feels that the public school system failed me. However, after working in the system, I know it did, but it wasn’t the teachers’ fault. So much red tape ties their hands that it is nearly impossible for them to actually teach. But that is a story for a different day. I didn’t become secure with my writing until I graduated from college. Even then, I had to break out of the technical academic writing and return to the creative style I love most. 

My biggest breakthrough was working with my writing life partner that I’ve tortured for nearly the last decade. We would spend hours going over my work in google docs. Watching him live, edit my writing, and explain what I’ve done wrong was better than any degree I could have achieved. He helped me understand the points that I missed in school. I’m sure they were taught at some point, but my young brain didn’t absorb the information. Another thing he did was tell me when my work was trash. But he didn’t just say, “Alex, this is shit.” He would say, “Alex, this is shit because….” and we would work on expanding and correcting the issues. Our edit sessions have whittled because of time as we have grown older. Kids have gotten in the way of my hobbies. He, apparently, has something called a life. However, he has not been released from his blood oath of helping me finish my work 🙂 

Time, care, and attention is what pushed me through my darkest moments as a writer. I’ve learned time and time again that the masses may not enjoy my work. However, I learned to appreciate those who like my work. Maybe one day I’ll be a famous author. Maybe I won’t. But I won’t let my fears trap me again.