Mrs. Maloy’s Edublog

The Art of Teaching
Marisol Vega Maloy

The art of teaching is truly a gift from above…
One must instruct with much patience and love.
At times it may be very difficult to see the good in some
but eventually we learn to overlook what they have done
We continue to strive to teach
the one who refuses–
only to realize they are really within our reach.
So many different faces
That come from many places
Each have a story to tell
Before they can even spell.
Reading, writing, arithmetic are key
In order for them to succeed
But for some this takes a back seat
Compared to the challenges that they meet…
If we persevere with our plans
and keep holding their hands
They will finish the race
but at their own pace!

Cheerios

Marisol Vega Maloy

When I hear the word Cheerios I automatically think of cereal. But that word took on a new meaning last November. We live on a private lane with only five houses. One cold, sunny afternoon I was driving into the lane and pulling up to our house. I thought I saw something on the front porch and took a second look. Why was a cat sitting on our porch? He looked friendly with his two tone color, tan and white. He had a long, fluffy tail but he looked unkept and as though he had been roaming for quite some time.

I am very afraid of cats. I had a bad experience as a teenager with my best friend’s cat, Precious. While he always sat on my lap and seemed friendly enough, one day he took me by surprise and leaped onto me from the top of the piano in my friend’s room. The room was dark and I must have startled him when I walked in. Ever since then I am very skeptical of cats! I feel as though they are traitors. Because of this, I would not approach the cat and proceeded to go in the house through the garage doors instead.

When my son got home he said, “Mom, Cheerios is out on the front porch.” I asked him who Cheerios was and that’s when he explained it was the cat’s name. His friend had nicknamed him Cheerios because that’s what he fed him and he would gladly eat it.

Cheerios remained on the lane for a several weeks. I felt sorry for him although my fear never subsided. I would open tuna fish cans and throw them his way. He would come running towards me and I would run the other way. The cold weather was really starting to set in and we were starting to have snowstorms. I wondered where he would disappear to when it snowed. I was tempted many times to let him come in our garage when I would hear him meowing feverishly for some relief of the cold weather. I sensed he was someone’s house cat and I started to call the local shelters to see if anyone had lost a cat or if they would take him in. I also called the local police department. A policeman brought someone by who had actually lost a cat and they thought he might be the one from the description. Cheerios was not her cat. I tried to convince her to take him but to no avail.

I would come home and Cheerios would see me in the distance and come running as if I were his long lost friend, his hope for survival, food. He knew he could depend on me to give him his can of tuna fish daily. Often, I would see him at the neighbor’s house but as soon as I came home, he came “home” also.

My dog was fascinated by our new found friend and visitor. When he would go for his walks, he would go over by Cheerios and inquisitively try to figure out who he was. Cheerios didn’t mind. He sat quietly, motionless, as if to waiting his approval. After every snowfall I would wonder where he would hide but he somehow he would resurface. One Friday morning, a snow day, my dog drifted to the neighbor’s house after a big snowfall. I hurriedly went up to get him and the neighbor said “we don’t have to worry about that cat anymore!” I picked up my dog and feeling a stunned look on my face, I walked away.

Just as briskly as Cheerios walked into our lives he left on a cold, brisk, December morning. I never really found out what happened to Cheerios. I know that just as quickly as he stopped by, he was gone. Hopefully, he had found his way to a warm, loving home somewhere. I still remain very much afraid of cats.

Just Plain Old Simple “Mary!”

Marisol Vega Maloy

My name is Marisol, which means sea and sun in Spanish. Most people think it sounds beautiful and when they hear the meaning, they like it even more.

But truth be told, it plagued me as a child. In school, teachers couldn’t figure out how to pronounce it. Kids made fun of it and made it rhythm with words like parasol. Thank goodness my last name was an easy one. Although at that time, there was actually a car named “Vega.” And, unfortunately for me, I had a classmate whose last name was “Nova,” also the name of a car during that time. You can imagine the jokes!

Elementary school is a time when you just want to fit in and seem as “normal” as possible. My name prohibited that in some ways. I was surrounded by students with easy names like: Jane, Sally, Patricia, Susan. Why didn’t my parents send me to a school where there were more names like: Maria, Carmen, Julitza, Marissa? I went to private school because my parents were told that’s where your children could get the best education. I guess it was true but I didn’t care about that. That was not important to me. I wanted to be around students who also ate rice and beans, but more importantly, could pronounce my name! I had nothing against them, the ones with the simple names. I just wanted my name to be part of that same list in some odd way.

I’ll never forget a day in third grade. I wanted to be the teacher’s pet but with a name like Marisol, I couldn’t possibly. She couldn’t even pronounce my name and it was evident she was hard of hearing. Not only did she make me repeat it over and over, but she wanted me to stand up and say it. I stood up next to my desk and said my name. She said “say it louder, please so everyone can hear you.” So, I said my name again. “We still can’t hear you!” I repeated it once more in my small, soft voice-Marisol (Ma-ra-sǎl). I would say anglicized because it is really pronounced Marisol (Ma-ree-sōl) in Spanish but what did they know! “Go to the back of the classroom and please say it louder.” Oh, that’s going to help her hear it better! She couldn’t hear it when I was towards the front of the room and now she wants me to go to the back of the classroom. I reluctantly made my way towards the back of the classroom. I could feel my blood rushing through my body as I walked to the back of the classroom. I could feel everyone’s eyes on me as I walked to the back of the classroom. Oh, how I wished I could have just kept walking out of the room without anyone noticing! Now, I was standing up by the middle of the closet doors. I felt as though I had said my name a dozen times for what seemed to be endless hours. You could hear a pin drop as she proceeded to continue to drill me with what seemed like an endless, useless exercise that did nothing but cause a student to want to drop out of school, out of sight. What was she thinking? Did she really think that this was helping anyone, least of all, her?

I think this is part of the reason why I became a teacher, a bilingual teacher. I wanted to redeem all the teachers that were insensitive to their students and their cultures, backgrounds. While we speak the same language, there are many different dialects of that same language in my classroom, many different customs. All are special and unique and should be valued. The classroom environment is created not only by the teacher but the students who comprise the room. Each one contributes their own special flavor to the class. What’s funny is I have had students whose names I cannot pronounce. But thank God I never once dreamed of asking them to stand up and recite it over and over until they want to disappear into space or from the human race! I try my best to pronounce it and express to them how beautiful it is and ask them to please forgive me if I say it incorrectly.

This experience in third grade made me want to change my name to something simple like “Mary,” which is what some friends call me now even though they can pronounce my name. Imagine how terrible to be in school and have the teacher ask you to stand up and pronounce your name over and over. That’s why I wanted to be “Mary.” Just plain old simple Mary!

My professional piece was an inspiration from the writing prompt entitled “My Name” written by Sandra Cisneros.  I related to the reading because of the contrast of the pronounciation of my name in English and in Spanish and the fact that it was so difficult for my teachers, as well as classmates to pronounce. It seems funny to me now but at the time it used to almost devastate me that my name seem to be so difficult for people to say. It only had three syllables! 

This was also the perfect example of how the learning environment is created by the teacher and should be one that is nourishing and risk-free. The experience that I had in class that day was very unpleasant. It is up to us to create pleasant memories for our students. This can only help them think of the learning process as one that they want to be a part of and in this way they will get the most out of our teaching.

Today is our first day setting up our edublogs.  This is new to me and I think it is a unique way for educators to share information and experiences.  Like most of our students, when they are told to write about a topic, even though they have been given guidelines, you find yourself at a loss for w o r d s … the same goes for educators.  What do we write about? What should we write about? Can you imagine the difficulty our students experience or “writer’s block” when they are told to just “write,” especially for the learner who is having difficulty.  Our high performers and average performers will somehow fumble through the assignment, however, our low performers will get stuck on just the idea of writing. 

What should we do as educators to ease the needless pain our students experience when they hear the word “write?”  One thing that we can definately do is provide enough guidance and writing prompts and graphic organizers that they will feel less intimadated by the writing process.  At the beginning of the school year their first writing assignment, should be something that is memorable and fun to do so that they don’t quite feel stomped by the writing assignment. 

The beginning of the school year, and the assignments, tend to set the tone for the student for the whole year, therefore, we need to choose what we ask of them carefully and thoughtfully in order to create an environment of success for all.

 Happy writing to all

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