So, What Would YOU Do?

School is a kinda crazy place. People leave their children for a minimum of 6 hours a day, 5 days a week, with total strangers because...well, that's what you do.

Most times it works out ok, with some "strangers" creating more memorable experiences or possibly having a better rapport with a child than others. Then, at the end of one school year, you take your child from that now "non-stranger" and start all over again the following school year because...well, that's what you do.

Being the "stranger", or teacher, on the other side isn't any less complicated. You have the responsibility of educating someone else's child, the best you can, for a minimum of 6 hours a day, 5 days a week because...well, that's what you do. But unfortunately life isn't that cut and dry.

As a teacher I am paid to educate children. Sure, social skills, learning how to make good decisions all come into play as well, but mostly my job is supposed to be about helping children to try and understand new things. Unfortunately my job isn't that cut and dry either

Example:

Sweet girl enters my class. She does not look at all like the other children in fact, she doesn't look like any student I have ever had before. She has orange/green colored skin, with dark brown circles with crusty scabs under her eyes. It's obvious something is very wrong. As we go outside to play she carefully pulls out a hat from her backpack and places it on her head. When I ask, "What's up?" She explains she is allergic to the sun.

Now, personally I have had 4 or 5 students who were allergic to the sunshine and it truly does cause them grief if they do not keep covered. But for some reason this didn't seem to be the complete answer to all this young lady's problems for as time goes by, this darling seems to be having difficulty keeping up with the class. At times, tired, at times distracted and other times seeming "foggy headed". It seems that there is always something.

One day my darling enters my classroom covered in scratch marks. In fact, her arms are bleeding from scratching so much and she is having difficulty staying put in her seat. What could be going on?? So, I ask.

Darling explains that with the exception of chicken, she is allergic to all meat, most vegetables and fruits, as well as any sugary things. Apparently, the night before her family had gone out for a birthday celebration and ate hamburgers, fries and chocolate sundaes. All the things she was allergic to. She was now suffering the consequences.

Oh my. Surely her family must have known she would break out from head to toe if she were to eat all of these foods. What were they thinking? I swear, I need to call that parent and tell her...

STOP!!! Hold on there.

As a teacher it is my job to educate the future. It is NOT my job to judge, evaluate or preach others in their parenting. As well, in order for me to be successful in my job I need to be allies with my parents so we both can work together to help their child grow. It is a fine line that teachers walk each day, that divides what is and what is not our business to get involved in. And for me, this problem was tippy-toeing all over that line.

So, now you have the facts. What would YOU do? Send me a comment and I'll let you know later the outcome from this story.

Now and Then

Sometimes I think about all that has changed in schools since I was a kid, not to mention working as a new teacher. Sometimes I cringe, and sometimes I chuckle, sometimes I write my buddies who read my blog. So, today is nostalgia day. Prop up your tootsies and walk down memory lane with me. See if any of my memories ring a bell.

These are a few things I remember:

Then:
Men and women teachers had a dress code. Women were to wear dresses, nylons and heels. Men were to wear suits with jackets and ties. When I first started teaching the dress code was lifted so women could wear pants. Apparently I caused quite a stir with the mommies for I wore jeans. They didn't realize I couldn't afford new clothes and used my old college wardrobe. Even so, I still can't figure out how men could afford to dress in a suit every day.
Now:
To be honest...is there a dress code? I remember one teacher at my school who looked better than Britany when Britany was in. Tight, low, ummm, I guess it all goes-apparently it isn't one of the state standards.

Then:
Friday, art days and Wednesday film days. Man, when I was a kid I LOVED those days. I was talking to a fellow teacher the other day about "film days" and she had no clue what I was talking about. Schools used to have movie projectors that were on carts that rolled from room to room. On the cart was a big canvas bag filled with movies that were on various topics from art to nature to...whatever. College students wanting to be teachers had to pass the audio/visual class on how to work the projector before you were allowed into student teaching. Personally, I only passed because there was a shift change in the instructors and I lied about knowing how to thread the projector (don't tell my school district.)
Now:
What film? What art?

Then:
The cafeteria food was-food. Throughout the morning you would smell cookies baking, grilled cheese sandwiches and other yummy things. In November you would get shredded turkey with gravy over mashed potatoes the day before Thanksgiving and as a kid I would beg my mom for the 35 cents to eat in the "cafe" that day. Milk would cost a nickel and there was no such thing as low fat.
Now:
It is frankly bizarre what is served to kids nowadays under the guise of food. This crud comes in cellophane wrappers that the cafeteria workers heat up. Whenever I see this stuff I always wonder if parents know what their kids are eating for lunch. If they did, I think the cafeteria (or "barfateria" as we call it in my room) would be out of business. What's funny, is if you ask kids what they would like to eat if they had the choice (I did) it is actually healthy-who knew?

Ahh, memories. Such fun on a lazy day. Maybe you have a few too-write and let me know! Enjoy.

Kids With Keys

When I was "little" I couldn't imagine anything that represented being "big" more than a set of keys. I would rummage through my parents' desk drawer hoping to find stray keys that had no purpose or meaning to them and place them on my neon, magenta rabbit's foot key chain, where they would then have a wonderful purpose and meaning to me. Big keys, small keys, red keys, they filled out my chain quite impressively and I loved it. To me these keys meant POWER! Listen to them ting-a-ling!! Ahh, the joy of it all.

From my perspective not that much has changed since I was a "little T". Kids still love having keys but now it seems that the keys are actually theirs from the very beginning.

House keys worn around the neck, man that was a craze. Kids felt the first shreds of adulthood once they were given the golden (well actually, brass toned) key to the family home. Wow. It symbolized trust, maturity and manual dexterity ta-boot! Now however, children are driven to school, unable to so much as cross a street without supervision, therefore eliminating the need for that blazing symbol of coolness. Shame.

What seems to have followed is this:

Each day big sister comes to pick up her little siblings. She patiently waits while backpack, homework pages and empty lunch bags are gathered by the younger crew. During this time we chitty-chat about what her life is like being 16, and the new responsibilities of having a driver's license.

She: Man, my mother has so many things she wants me to do for her now that I can drive.
Me: Yes, it is amazing how that one piece of paper has opened up new doors for the both of you.
She: Yeah...that's why I am looking for my own car.
Me: Wow.
She: I've already test driven a few but want one that is safe, well, cuz of the little ones I have to pick up and all. And don't worry, I'll show you when I get it!

3 days later:

As I walk into the parking lot towards my '98 Mountaineer, my hands full of whatever it is that teachers seem to carry back and forth with them, I see her from the corner of my eye. With keys in hand she proudly begins jumping up and down, ready to give me the grand tour of her first car- coming with more bells and whistles than I could ever possibly remember.

I breathed in that new car smell. It was...well, magnificent.

She: Do you LOVE it?
Me: (nodding my head like a bobble doll) Yeah! They really know how to make a car over there at Range Rover.

With my key in hand, I head back to my car. Sigh...enjoy.

The Gift

I am always amazed when I am invited to a student’s home for dinner. I mean, when I think about the number of times I have asked a teacher, boss, principal etc. to dinner it starts with a ”N” and ends in an “EVER”. So I do not take the honor lightly when the invitation happens. But truth be told, I would be less than honest if I told you on this particular night I was feeling as “honored” as I should. I mean, I realized the effort it was taking for the parent to prepare that night’s meal (or so I thought, keep reading) and what a nice thing it was to do, but I was tired. My days start early, and it was a Wednesday night, I knew I still had to keep the energy flowing for two more days. Not to mention, the family spoke very broken English so the evening would be filled with gaps and lulls in conversation unless I was on my toes the entire night. Therefore, on that particular day I would have loved to just stay at home and veg. But I didn’t.

When I arrived at their address I pushed the doorbell-no answer. Then I remembered, Han’s mother told me to open the gate and walk into the backyard. Humm, maybe a backyard BBQ? So, open the gate I did and out came the two smiling faces of Han and his mother who led me to their home- in the one car garage.

Now don’t get me wrong. It was a nice place, equipped with a mini fridge and hot plate in the closet/kitchen, a small bed in front of the window where Han slept. Next to his bed was a tiny table with 3 toddler sized chairs around it, a toilet and a loft where Han’s mother and father slept.

I smiled, hoping not to show my surprise and sat down in the tiny, red plastic chair looking at the vast array of food in front of me. Noodles, curried shrimp, pork dumplings, fried rice and more- so much more that the platters were laid on top of one another on the table now directly touching my knees. How had she made all of this? Where had she put all the food before I got there? I mean, I had seen her "kitchen". I later found out they had no car and with the nearest market miles away, how far did she have to carry it? To think that someone had gone to this effort for me. My friends, I have tears even now telling you.

Sitting there, with my surroundings beginning to sink in, my eyes began to well-up. I kept pinching myself in the arm in order to help me stay focused and stop the waterworks that were on the verge of flowing. I realized this night was so much more than I had anticipated. It was a gift and I needed to learn as much as I could before it ended.

I began to ask questions. I asked how she happened to come to the United States.

She told me they had moved from China 5 years ago. She and her husband had been government scientists researching global weather. They were important. Important enough to be given an apartment to live in for free and important enough to be threatened if they were to leave the country.

I asked, "How did you end up here in my town?"

The answer was one that can only happen in our world today. The Internet.

When their son Han was born, he had been sickly from the start. Colds, fever never able to gain weight. The final blow came when he was 2 1/2 years old. His parents were told he had a heart condition so rare that the doctors in China could not help. He was given 6 months to live. Unable to take this as the final answer for their son, they began an Internet plea for help. Their message was sent around the world, country to country, from chat room to chat room, until unbelievably it reached a parent who's child had the same medical condition. This parent began a 3 month campaign of raising enough money to fly Han to the same hospital her child had been treated.

The government would not allow both parents to leave the country at the same time, they were much to valuable. Han and his mother left to seek the medical attention necessary to save Han's life. Their story was unbelievable. Han, so weak the doctors feared he would not endure the surgery. His mother, unable to bring more than a small bag from China didn't know where to place it so she left it at the front door of the hospital each day, then slept in the doorway of a local building until more good Samaritans helped her find a room.

Meanwhile, the only way the government would allow his father to leave the country was if he were to be accepted to a university program that would further his education and therefore help their country in the end. He was accepted and arrived in the United States 22 months later.

And now, here they were. Prominent global scientists living in a 1 car garage for the love of their child. Father was going to school, taking classes that would allow him to eventually teach university level Mathematics, working nights in a Chinese restaurant as a busboy, only coming home on Saturday nights for the distance was too great to travel daily on his bicycle. Just so amazing were these people.

Fast forward...the years progressed. Han's mother and I became quite close. The news was looking good for their family in many ways. They were granted permanent status in our country. Han's father had graduated and was offered a teaching position out of state at a university. Once there they would have a real home after 9 years.

The downside was they would never be able to return to China again, no relatives would be granted permission to come to the United States, as well. But as Han's mother told me...they bought a web cam.

Another miracle from the Internet. Enjoy.

Vent

As the author of this blog I have decided that I am entitled to write about whatever I want. This means from time to time I reserve the right to just vent. Let it all out, tell you what I really think about STUFF in my world. Like every other average day to day worker there are times when I just have had have enough. Today was that day.

Vent:
Why is my classroom expected to be the location of a child's birthday party?

Don't get me wrong, I am a confetti and streamers kinda gal. I like celebrations. If you were to come to my home you would have no problem guessing what holiday is happening next. Eggs, bunnies, trees, glitter, flags, ornaments, blow-ups, pop-outs whatever visualizes the moment...I got it!

But a school is different.

School is a place where little people come, with tender hearts and feelings, and they wear them not very well covered, on their sleeves. It is a place where people of all faiths, including the ones who do not celebrate holidays and birthdays, gather for one purpose-education. School is a place where people of all beliefs, colors, sexes and whatever else you want to add to my list that can divide, segregate or make us different as humans, come together to help the next generation of learners succeed.

It is not, however, home.

Why the vent today? Because one darling cried all yesterday morning when they thought mommy forgot to bring the donuts for their birthday celebration. Their day was lost, even after phoning home and they discovered that mommy was to bring them the NEXT day. Once this travesty was resolved with mommy coming to school to pass out the goodies...today I hear, that this sugarfest for the classroom was not the only hoopalah for my little darling. No, tonight there will be a party for the family, with another wizbanger on Sunday for the same kids who got the donuts today! Yet, I ended up with a crying STUDENT for one full day who also affected the learning of all the other STUDENTS around him for one full day.

I could go on forever about this topic.

Like, the grandfather who promised lunch for the entire class and ended up bringing 1 medium pizza for my classroom of 37. Dear God were those kids terrific, not complaining but certainly rather baffled, as I was cutting that poor pizza into shoestrings and reminding them to say "Thank You".

Or the father who, in the middle of our math test, "dropped-in" and "dropped-off" an ice cream cake, no plates, forks, cutting utensil-nada. He told me he just figured I had everything here and left.

What about the poor children who do not celebrate holidays? Sometimes they don't know-can they eat the food, drink the drink, sing the song? And the food allergies (they seem rampant now days)? Not to mention the poor child on the "ketosis" diet who wasn't allowed to eat ANYTHING except high fatty foods to stop her seizures.

From a parent's perspective I understand the need to do something special for your child on the day of their birth. From a teacher's perspective I see 37 days of potential catastrophes, like yesterday.

Breathe in, breathe out. Relax.

Now I have "vented". I feel the breeze of a new tomorrow. Thank you for letting me return to my work able once again to enjoy.

Mother's Day

Today is my day. A special day that those who are supposed to, have the wonderful opportunity to sit back and worship me. AHHH.

Humm, just thinking...

Maybe I've got it all wrong. Yes, I am a mother and a wife but then again, if it weren't for my dear hubby and number one and number two sons, I would be neither-right? So maybe, just maybe, today is the day I am to thank them for all the wonderful things they do that make me proud to be theirs.

So...here goes.

Hubby. You absolutely amaze me. After more than 30 years of marriage you still have that cute twinkle in your eye-and a lot of the time it's when you look at me! You selflessly come each and every year to help my classroom run more smoothly by fixing, hanging, nailing and whatever else I can think of. As well, you take one full day off from your own job so that my kids can have one fabamundo last day of school. Honey, no one wears a cowboy hat better than you!
Thank you.

Number One Son. I have always called you my "techno wizard." Without your continual patience when explaining computer "stuff" I would never be able to get it into this rather thick skull of mine. You have networked, repaired and upgraded so many computers I fail to even remember the number. You are constantly supporting my latest and greatest adventures and take one full day off from your job so that the kids in my class can square dance and play 21 like the 49er miners did. Mommy loves you.

Number Two Son. You are a burst of energy that all kids are just attracted to. Thank you for donating your time and expertise to show my class some really great activities that they otherwise would never know. Your control over my class always surprises me, after all, I remember when you were just a little kiddiddle yourself! Much love from Da Madre.

Well, now everything seems right. I have expressed my sincere appreciation...now, they can get "on" with the worshipping!

It's my day to enjoy!

Testy's TFF's (Teacher Friends Forever)

As teachers we spend more of our time IN the classroom and OUT of the loop in terms of adult contact. This new addition of Wednesday blogging is for teachers to call OUT to their TFF's for the kind of "been there, done that" support that only we can give. Send any future "shout outs" to my email address at: thetestyteacher@gmail.com, so we can include them in the upcoming Wednesday editions of Testy's TFF's (Teacher Friends Forever)

So here's a question sent in from one of my TFF's:

What's an easy way to maintain parent communication but not take hours of prep time to do it? At my school we have to contact parents in a "meaningful way". Anyone have any suggestions?
Linda

Great question! So? Anyone out there have a great solution?

What Not To Wear

Lately I've become the victim of a cable TV show.

I began watching a show that has two ridiculously, grinning hosts whose main purpose is to tell unassuming individuals what utter fools they have been making of themselves, simply due to what attire they put on their bodies. This started an inner panic. I mean, what if someone I knew volunteered me for such a humiliation? To be honest, it could happen.

You see...

I can't remember exactly when it began but I do remember where. I was shopping at the local mall, strolling around, checking out the sights and there IT was. The most amazing, wonderfully fabulous head ornament I had ever seen. Imagine, a pink fuzzy, feathery headband with a silver lame princess hat attached, decorated with neon pink star shaped sequins that were sewn all over, ending with more pink (netting this time) that plumed from the top and made a clever little veil. I was in love the second I saw it. So I bought it.

Now, the naive may have wondered, "Why?", being that my own two children had become much too old for such silly dress-up shenanigans, not to mention are boys. But those who knew me (like my hubby) just shook their heads. They realized a new fashion trend for Miss T had begun. Hats!!

Hats. What a wonderful way to dress-up a dreary day. Think about it. Looking dumpy? Bad hair day? Kinda didn't think the sweater looked that bad when you put it on? Wear a wacky hat...who's gonna notice when you are radiant from the neck up?

Hats are fun. Hats have personality. Elementary school aged kids have more than enough fun and personality, so why not wear something that helps you to be on their level of a fun personality? I could go on forever about the wonderment of hats and what a great addition to my classroom they have been.

Yet, I digress.

Having now explained my work attire, you can see why I was struck with fear while watching that TV show. Maybe I had made a mistake. According to those TV hosts I was not dressing appropriately for a person of my position and stature. Not to mention, what if someone DID send my name to these people?? They may be coming to jump out at me any minute!!! AAAAAAAAHHH!

I did the only rational thing I could think of. I began a counter attack. I refused to wear my beloved headgear. Even though it was drizzling outside I did NOT wear my rainbow striped umbrella hat. National holiday??? You didn't see me in my Statue of Liberty hat along with matching sunglasses-did you? No way! I became a newer, more professional teacher...and I HATED IT! I mean, who cares what you look like on the outside if you are miserable on the inside-right?

So I caved.

I gave it up and immediately felt better. Once back at school I happily put on my King Tut hat in metalic gold and black! Next day, out came the sunflower hats in gilttery rainbow colors. Yes. All seemed right with the world again.

Since that day I realized...maybe there are people who know more than others about what NOT to wear. But if you want to have fun-come talk to me, I'm the expert about what TO wear! Enjoy.

Unprepared

Several years ago there was a special on TV about the changing expectations of schools in America. Basically, this show dispelled any ideas about what public education is today in comparison to what many people remember from days gone by. Even though public education is still dealing with the same client that it has for years-children, their and their family's needs have altered tremendously.

After watching that show, the number one thing that stuck in my mind were the words of an elementary school principal who was interviewed. He stated he was trained in education, yet, instead of academics he was dealing on a daily basis with parents who needed food stamps, children who had untreated health issues, homelessness and more. So much so, that instead of "it takes a village" he felt school needed to be a village, of social workers, psychologists, health care workers etc., who worked along side the educators to meet the needs of today's child. His final line was, "I am just SO unprepared."

It seems like that lost feeling of helplessness happens to me annually.

He came into my classroom like he always did. Head stooped, sly grin.

"Ya got anything I can do?" he asked.

Gus lived across the street from the school, his mother was in prison for selling drugs. He had no contact with her and his grandparents were raising him. It was cute seeing them together- grandparents walking him to school each day, Gus a full head taller than they were leading the way.

Since he lived across the street, I figured that's how he saw me pull in the parking lot that morning... so he decided to come and visit. But on a Saturday? It seemed like he should have millions of fun things to do besides come and help me.

I have always found that when you give a kid a task the conversation will flow-eventually. So on that Saturday I didn't pry, I just gave Gus the broom and told him to help me sweep up. We talked about sports, Gus wanted to be a basketball player, TV, music (hated Rap, loved Hip Hop), just stuff to pass the time.

Once we were finished, room clean, work done for now, out it came.

"My grandma just died. I didn't want to be there when they put her in a bag. My grandpa says when they come to get her they will put her in a body bag and I don't want to watch that."

I nodded.

"Do you want me to go back with you just in case?" I asked.

"Nah, I've been watching the clock, it's been a couple of hours. It's probably ok now."

So he left. And I just wasn't prepared.

Enjoy.

Scientific Method Part 2

As explained last week some people feel that schools should be run more like businesses. Teachers should be evaluated by the performance of their students. Because of this I decided to conduct an experiment of my own to see the results. Here goes.

Hypothesis:

All students will score at the 70th percentile on today's math concept. Today's concept is VARIABLE. A variable is a letter that represents some thing or number in a math problem.

Procedure:

1. All students will have Math book open to page 66.

2. Each student will have a highlighter to highlight any math concept found in text.(Actually, we are sharing as the school has none. The highlighters came from a parent who stole them from her office.)

3. One student will read each sentence aloud in the word problem. ( I might be skewing the results because I am intentionally not calling on Ashkan, my non-English speaking student from Armenia.)
4. After sentence is read aloud, teacher will ask, "Does this sentence have a math concept in it?"; if it does not student reads the next sentence...and so on.
5. Once sentence with math concept is found, teacher will reinforce math concept by restating the information in a question for students to answer thus verifying comprehension of concept.

Observation:

Bobby reads sentence with math concept in it. "N equals the number of goats." Teacher now restates sentence as a question, "What does "N" equal? Juan?"

She notes:
Jack is snoring on his desk (he was out until 11pm with his family).
Mary can't find her book.

Bobby and Helen are passing notes.
Juan answers, "42"

Teacher now has student repeat reading sentence with math concept aloud and once again asks, "What does "N" represent in this sentence? Julie?"

Teacher also observes:

Mary still can't find her book.

Suzie is painting her nails with the highlighter.
Ashkan is staring blankly at the ceiling.
Julie looks to where Ashkan is staring, praying that is where the answer is.

One MORE time the teacher has student repeat, repeat reading sentence with the math concept in it. She rephrases clarifying question AGAIN, "N" is a variable, in this SENTENCE what does "N" stand for? Morton?"

Teacher watches as:
Mary gave up looking for book and is now wandering around room talking to friend.
Spike is crawling on floor looking for lid to highlighter.
Morton answers," Nebraska."

Conclusion:
I'm doomed
Enjoy.

Scientific Method Part 1

It seems that many people, much smarter than I am of course, feel that schools should be run like businesses. Teachers should be held accountable for their student's performances on standardized tests. If said students do not perform in the 70th percentile, these smarter people than I am believe that teachers should be put on probation with the final outcome being termination, should test scores dip again. Sounds good. Makes sense. In fact I'm sure there is some type of scientific study out there that has been done that proves what good sense it makes. After all, when students fail tests we all know it must be because teachers did not prepare them.

So I begin.

Businesses hire one executive who will supervise other adults, let's say as many 39 of them. They do this with the assistance of a secretary who will answer phones, make calls, fax, copy, write inner and outer office communications and possibly go get the dry cleaning. It is this executive's job to inspire these, as many as 39 adults, to support and expand the corporation's business philosophy.

These adults work together, make plans, are given the tools and supplies to carry out their plans, then begin supporting and expanding away. Normally the executive will be told the risks and consequences of a poor performance and what will happen if desired outcomes do not occur. This could possibly be a loss of pay, lower position or even lose their job altogether.

Got it. So now let's apply these same principles to elementary school.

School Districts hire one elementary school teacher who will supervise, as many as 39, children. Without the assistance of a secretary, they will make and return phone calls, fax, copy and write in and out of class communications and possibly go get the dry cleaning.

Unlike in the business world, said teacher will not be able to interview their future employees, I mean students. The teacher will simply "get what they get and not raise a fit." Tools and supplies that support the learning plan established by the state are at a scarcity as well.

Teachers will be expected to maintain the high standards and test scores of these students under the age of 11 in spite of the fact that: the child does not speak English, has learning disabilities, has so much more than learning disabilities ( our world is a full inclusion world- no child shall be isolated from his/her peers), a parent who left them, a parent who is terminally ill, has recently become homeless, has moved 3 times so far this year or... well, you get the picture-and so should every teacher.

So, now for the scientific experiment.



Feeling a little weak-to be continued next week.

Miss T

Hug O' War

So, I'm sitting in the eye doctor's office, drifting away not thinking about much, then suddenly I realize...man, my life is great. Well, ok, there were a few steps before I came to that conclusion and technically, I probably had to have a couple of thoughts in order to make that conclusion...but either way, in the end, I realized...man, my life is great.

Here is how it happened.

My eye doctor is a part of a big practice in a medical building downtown. Each year I visit to have my old peepers dilated and given the once over, medically speaking, of course. This year like the others, I sat in the waiting room-waiting. Not novel I agree but once I was seated for a few minutes, I started really checking out my environment.

The first thing I noticed was that there were no windows-none. After making that observation, I then continued to drill that point home with each new location I was taken to. Examination room-none, receptionist room- none, eye drop place-none. Everywhere I looked there were none, none, none.

I mean think of it, the staff there cannot tell if it is day or night, hot or cold, winter or summer. Their only reminder of the world outside is the tiny clock on their computer screens that flashes when it is time to go home. Yuck.

Having made that connection I next began noticing the interactions the people who worked there were having.

"No, Mr. Q that is NOT the proper insurance form and we do expect you to pay in advance."
"No, the doctor is not available at that time..."
"Please hold."
"Hello? Please hold."
"You have to speak louder!!" (something I do not believe I have EVER said in my job!)

And on and on. It almost felt confrontational with abrupt, stilted conversation.

In my world we are filled with words. There are times that we run out of time to tell all our stories we have so many words. Details, sound effects, animated faces, with hands and feet waving all at the same time.

In my world we certainly have times of conflict but I never cease to be amazed at how children will still open their arms to you right after. "Hello!" and hugs abound in an elementary school- almost to the point where you may take them for granted...unless you go to the eye doctor's office. Once there, you just might get your eyes opened in more ways than one! Enjoy.

I will not play at tug o'war.
I'd rather play at hug o'war,
Where everyone hugs
Instead of tugs,
Where everyone giggles
And rolls on the rug,
Where everyone kisses,
And everyone grins,
And everyone cuddles,
And everyone wins.

Shel Silverstein
from Where the Sidewalk Ends

Baby Blues

In they come, two darlings from more than 7 years ago. Each time I see them
(about twice a year) they appear to be so grown up and mature. Then, after a few moments together, I begin to see the faces of the little girls who were my charges for one full year. Each one still giggles in the same way, pokes her friend with the same finger pinch. It appears that not much has changed except their size and the size of the world they now live in.

We catch up. I hear of classes, teachers, boyfriends-boyhates. I hear what the latest trends are in school and what colleges they are thinking about. Then comes the pause. They look at each other, take a deep breath and begin.

"We have some news to tell you," one says.
"Yeah, it's about Sally," blurts the other.

Sally, having been the third part to this girly triangle, was always in the middle of their activities so I wasn't surprised to hear an update on their long time friend.

"She just had a baby last week. We're the god mothers."

I feel pain.

I have known this child since she was four and would come to pick up her older sister who was in my class. She was always a bubble, a free spirit. Full of life, in a life that was less structured than those around her. I feel helpless to help but still feel the need to express my sadness to the girls.

"You realize that you have a huge responsibility-not only to Sally but to her child?"

They nod.

"You need to help her make good choices when she asks, and sometimes when she doesn't."

They nod again.

"At 16 this is a pretty big task for both of you. I want you to know, that even if you are her support team- in the end, whatever happens, it is strictly up to Sally. We can only hope for the best."

We are all silent for a long time. Truly, what can you say?

We hug, kisses on the cheeks and they prepare to leave. As they do, one darling turns to the other..."This room seems so small now."

Yes, indeed. Their world had apparently grown, again... Enjoy?

I Just Love Your Child!

Each school year we have parent conferences. It's a time to meet with parents and discuss the overall progress that their child is making during the current school year. When I was a newer teacher I would feel apprehensive about the entire process. After all, there were times when I was younger than the parents themselves and I wanted to make a good impression as a teacher, a professional, as the guardian to their child each day. Now...not so much.

I mean, it's not that I don't care anymore it's just that, like my students, I have learned from my mistakes or omissions. Therefore, as time progressed so did my skills as a trained "conference-er". So much so that I now have my own checklist prepared and am able to gather the items necessary to ensure a successful pow-wow.

Sign-in sheet: Check.
Report card: Check.
Grade book: Check.
Work samples: Check.
Name of student BOLDLY in front of your face at all times: Having called someone's child the wrong name I now have created this simple solution...Check.
Kleenex: Sometimes for them, other times for me. HA! Thought I didn't think of it, huh? Check.
Aspirin: With the amount of students in my class this conference thing can go on FOREVER so you never know when a migraine can appear. Check.

So let the games begin!!!

After becoming a parent I realized that most everyone wants the best for their child academically but more importantly they want others to like their child. Parents hope other adults feel the wonder and awe that they do by (even if it isn't on a regular basis) just knowing their kid. It is because of this belief that I greet each parent with what I mean as a truly sincere statement, "I am so glad to see you, I just love your child." Sometimes I follow it up with a small anecdote that recently occurred or sometimes they in turn will share a clever ditty themselves. But one of the most memorable response I ever received was, "Really? I have never heard that before in my life. You know Bozo was expelled from his last school for putting a cherry bomb in his teacher's desk. She just never understood him." Ummmm, ok. Not sure I ever did either but the following day Bozo's mother treated me to some homemade jambalaya-yum! And, oh yeah, no cherry bombs that year either.

Either way, these conferences seem to bring out the agony and ecstasy of teaching and parenting and at those moments the twain shall meet-enjoy!

Input/Output

INPUT:

* tap...big brown eyes staring up at me
* I hope I 'm not bothering you but last night Johnny didn't...
*...so I wanted to let you know that Sally's anti-psychotic medicine still isn't working...
* taptap...big blue eyes staring up at me
* Miss T we were disappointed your attendance was in late yesterday because...
* ...therefore you need to be aware that David's father is NOT to pick him up...
* I've been too busy to let you know before, so here's the cake just cut it up whenever you think...You do have a knife and plates, don't you?
* taptaptap...2 sets of brown eyes staring
* .......BBBBBUUUUUURRRRRRRPPPPP!!!!!!!!.....
* You need to realize Miss T flushing logs are very important and need to be filled out on a....
* STOP IT!!! He's touching me!
* ...and we will be gone for 10 days starting tomorrow and need homework...
* Did you return the call from the therapist who wants you to...
* taptaptaptaptaptaptap...
* My daddy says that you...
* ...so she didn't have time to make me breakfast and said you should...
* I was throwing up all night last night but my daddy and mommy have to work.
* pull...taptaptaptaptaptaptap
* YUCK...somebody cut the cheese!!!!
*...did not, did too, did not, did too, did not, did too
* tug, pull...taptaptaptaptaptaptap
* Miss T? Miss T??

RRRRRRRRRINGGGGGGGGGG

OUTPUT:

Good morning my darlings, it is 8:00... let the day begin.

Enjoy!

Who Sprung the Spring?

Every year this happens and yet, once again, it has taken me completely off guard. Just like every day, I hop into my little zoom-zoom and putta-putta to school. Just like every other day I have more plans than the time it takes to complete them. And just like every other day my darling students appear anxious and excited to see me. But wait...

There's something today that seems amiss. No longer are my little darlings bright eyed and bushy tailed, ready to absorb my every word. No longer do I feel that lovely sense of calm and well-being inside. Oh no (sigh), not now. For now I know my lovely world has changed...somebody has sprung my entire classroom into Spring!

Ahh yes, Spring. That wonderful time when flowers bloom, birds sing... and elementary school aged children turn into bumbling idiots. Too soon you say? They're much too young for such feelings to be aroused? Well, think again.

You'd think I would have remembered the general course of events that occur during a school year simply because I have been through this a couple DOZEN times. I mean, even Pavlov's dog figured out the routine after a few dinner bells. But no. I swear, I fall for it year after year after year. Sincere teacher, doing her best to keep the kiddies happy (secretly thinking she is at the homestretch of another school year) and BLAMO!!! Spring has sprung.

I was sharing this comment with a fellow colleague. She explained that she too was noticing the "boy meets girl" action in her classroom as well. But what I learned from her is that Spring is international and crosses through all cultures. For example, she has a student who is from Japan and does not speak a work of English (don't even get me going on the upcoming state test and YES she is still expected to have him score proficient or better-HA!) anyway, a little girl in her class said the boy from Japan was her boyfriend. When asked how she knew that, since the child speaks absolutely no English- the girl said, "He pointed to me, made a heart figure with his hands and put it on his chest." AWE! Now even I think that's cute!

So pull out the posies it's time to feel love renewed-enjoy!

An Introduction to Me

Being an elementary school teacher is funny. There are times throughout my day that I just wish people could see what I see all day, know what it takes for me to do my job on a daily basis. Watching little Susie pick her nose, Johnny busy scratching his...ummm, how to put this delicately... how about- privates? Walking around the room as I view the tattling, burping, farting, note passing, and more, that is a constant part of our daily routine. Yet, I know, technically speaking, none of us really know what it takes for someone to do a job other than our own-do we? But for some reason everyone thinks they know about teaching.

I guess because we have all been in school at one time or another the presumption is we are experts in what it is like to be a teacher. I mean, think about it. Almost everybody has a rotten teacher story that they love to whip out the second they hear you are in education. Pontifications abound about what the offending teacher should have, could have done had they been worth their pay. To be honest, there are plenty of "the teacher who saved my life" stories out there too. But I ask, truth be told, can you really be an expert about teaching by having been a student? I say no.

And so...now we have met. My future postings shall share what's been going on in my school daze. I do hope you enjoy.