Teaching Takes A Village - Part I

Today I got into my classroom.  I am so grateful to my wonderful family for coming up to help me because with all of the things that have been going on in the last few weeks I am really feeling the pressure to get things in order.  Because I am moving to a new grade and a new classroom, I am really much more nervous than I have been in several years.  I have lots of great ideas, I've made some pretty concrete lesson plans, and I've managed to get some time with my co-teacher who is also changing grade-level (although the lucky duck gets to stay in her same room!)


I was kind of caught short by the need to head to Texas to help out a dear family member.  It was a true gift to have the time to spend with Chris, yet at the same time I began to really, really tense toward the end of the week as I realized how much I had yet to do and how little time was left.  I began searching the internet for ideas and printed pages and pages of center ideas, games, and activities.


While I was out of town my daughter, Gabrielle and my husband went to Home Depot and picked up some carpet for the room.  I asked them to get a couple of pieces of remnant carpet I had seen for around $70.00 when I first started thinking about setting up a reading-writing workshop and wanted to make a comfortable reading area for the kids.  Unfortunately, when they went up to get the carpet they found out that it would cost another significant chunk of change to bind the edges.  Total bummer.


What they got for me were three smaller rugs that give me more flexibility in how I can work out the grouping.  When we're working with the interactive whiteboard we can move the rugs there.  We can set up three separate areas for students to read, or write, or play games.  Great choice and an even better idea than the one I had.  I'm excited about the possibilities that I see opening.  


Gabrielle also organized the boxes and boxes and boxes of books I removed from the house.  Any time I manage to remove things from the house my husband is very happy.  And, because Gabrielle is a children's librarian my books were quickly organized.  While she was going through the books she shared some with her son, Joey, and Maya, my other daughter.  We got to laughing over "The Magic Schoolbus" book about the solar system because when Maya changed the number of planets in the solar system from nine to eight, Joey was quick to let her know that "we don't write in books."  Maya explained to him that because I was a teacher it was okay, and more than that it was necessary because the book was from the old days when there were nine planets, not eight like today!


David, my husband, put together the cool lamp I bought as well as putting things on high shelves, setting up desks and chairs, unrolling and moving rugs, and taking out the trash.  And I moved things from one spot to another trying to decide what is going to be most effective for the way I hope to teach this year.


All of this is to let people know that while teachers work hard, and possibly harder than many think, our families also put a lot of time and energy into helping up become the best teachers we can be.  For me, and for many teachers that I know, teaching is a labor of love.  Fortunately our families love us enough to give of their time and efforts so we can walk into our classroom each day knowing we are loved and helping us to remember that part of our job is to love our students when they are their most unloveable!

Friends and Family

This has been a time of some trial and difficulty for a dear family member.  I came down to Texas to help out, because of the love and affection I have for this person and also because I have experience with anxiety and depression.  I know how our minds can interfere with daily living, giving us messages that are not at all beneficial.  We find it difficult to sleep, tossing and turning until the sun comes up, then dragging through the day.  After a few nights of little sleep, and a few days of increasing struggle, our thoughts can become even more chaotic.  It becomes not worth it to go to all the trouble of getting out of the house, phoning a friend, making plans.  All of this is, of course, exacerbated when we are alone.  So, I came to Texas.

We all have a few tricks in our bag on ways to handle things that bother us.  Some of us watch TV while others get into some heavy duty exercise.  Some people meditate while others bake, or eat, or game, or do drugs.  Others don't have very well developed coping mechanisms.  Or, if we do have good mechanisms, for some reason our brains won't let us use them to pull ourselves out of the despair.  I know that people say to get a positive attitude, pull yourself up by your bootstraps, just don't let yourself give in to depression.  Not as easy as it sounds.

So, I came down to Texas to lend a hand and found that there was a day when the anxiety couldn't be relieved, so we headed off to the local emergency room expecting to get some comfort, a little Xanax type medication, and a referral to a good counseling service.  What we got was a forced incarceration on the psych ward. 

The doctor explained to us that my friend was considered a threat to herself and, with the laws in Texas he was required to admit her under court order so she could not just sign herself out.  No matter how we tried we could not convince this doctor that my friend was not a danger to herself and anyone else.  "Just curling up under the bed and sleeping forever" was not a proposal of immediate damage to self. And, to many rational thinking people, the questions "Have you ever thought of suicide?" in this case, was more academic than not. 

However, the end result was that my friend received a forced 48 hour stay on the locked ward and a significant increase in anxiety.  She was assigned a patient number and all phone calls were directed by this number.  Heven forbid I should lose that piece of paper with the number on it or she could have ended up like Charlie in that old folk song, "Did he ever return?  No he never returned.  And his fate is still unlearned." 

So, watching what was until recently a bright, brilliant, vibrant woman I now see someone who fears the potential for being locked up at the slightest misstep; Someone who wonders about the kind of statements or actions that could again force her to be locked up against her will. 

Our solution to that is to head home to Michigan, one of the most beautiful spots on Earth.  The people there are understandable to us.  We have a better understanding of how the system works.  And, where best of all we can be surrounded by friends and family.  The kind of people who, even if they don't understand why things are so horrible, still show up to make the horribleness better.  The kind of people who show up with a cake or jello or just plain love.  The kind of people who know our stories and know who we are. 

These people don't care if you are  broke, being a jerk, what you weigh, if you don't see them for months, if your house is a mess, what you drive, about your past, or if your family is filled with crazy people. Your conversations pick up where they left off, even if they have been months apart.
They love you ... for who you are.

It will be good to be home.

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School Anxiety

As I sit here in Texas taking care of business, I am increasingly anxious about the beginning of a new school year.  As a teacher I am amazingly anal about some things.  I have my class lists done and the first week lesson plans have been roughly drafted.  I have my bulletin boards covered thanks to my family for climbing on the ladder and helping make decorating decisions.  Desks are arranged, chairs are in place.  The custodial staff has done a great job moving my "stuff" from my old room to my new room. 

However, I have a new teaching assignment and a lot to learn in just a few more days.  I have taught middle school science for the last couple of years.  This year I will be back in a 4th grade classroom, team teaching with a great teacher who is also moving down from the middle school.  We have split the curriculum:  I'll teach ELA and science; She'll teach math and social studies. 

I've read through the GLCEs (Grade Level Content Expectations) which are the state curriculum expectations.  This is an example:  "acquire and apply strategies to identify unknown words or word parts; self-monitor, and construct meaning by engaging actively in reading a variety of genre, self-correcting, and using a thesaurus."  I've looked at the CCSS (Common Core State Standards) which is a more national curriculum that we are/will begin implementing as we as a nation move toward a more "common" curriculum.  There are 57 specific topics that need to be addressed per the GLCEs.  The CCSS is a more broad document with a not insignificant number of objectives such as:  "Refer to details and examples in a text when explaining what the text says explicitly and when drawing inferences from the text."

How will I teach these objectives:  Will I teach to the whole class or in small groups?  How can I schedule my time so I will be able to spend as much time as possible in one-to-one instruction?  How will a workshop-style program work for me and my students?  How much time will I devote to vocabulary?  Reading?  Spelling?  What behavioral issues will walk in the door and what will I do to make sure that even if a student is having a bad day they will feel supported enough to learn through the bad feelings?

In order to teach these objectives I need to have a pretty clear understanding of each student, their abilities, difficulties, needs, situation.  I have looked at a couple of years of test data for the incoming 4th grade students.  I've talked with previous teachers, paraprofessionals, lunch aides, and anyone else who might have had contact with a child and have information to give me.  I've reviewed special education needs both through the files and the special education teacher.  I've checked to see if there are siblings in our school, if there have been multiple moves, which parent(s) the student lives with, if they are living in their own home or with grandparents or others.  I've tried to determine if both parents are working, one parent working, no parents working.

All of those factors give me a better understanding of my students, but it won't be until that first day as they are coming in the door that I'll be able to see in their eyes whether they are excited about coming to school or anxious about the coming school year.  I'll find out who has new clothes and pencils.  I'll find out who had breakfast and who had a fight before getting to school.  I'll find out who had the opportunity to read a book and who feels that reading a book would absolutely wreck summer vacation.

At that time I will begin to devise my specific strategies.  When I see someone who's eyes light up when I read a book, well, I'll give them lots of books to read.  If someone else avoids looking at me or puts his head down while I'm reading, I'll find time to sit down with that child and ask gentle questions to find out what's gong on and whether they have a hearing problem, or a listening problem, or a specific reading problem.  I'll give a metaphorical kick in the rear to someone who needs it as well as a loving squeeze to someone else. 

And at the end of the first day of school I will be exhausted physically, mentally, emotionally and spritually.  I will need to take time to replenish my internal resources before I begin to analyze the information I've acquired during our first day activities.  I'll look at papers, seating arrangements, classroom set-up to determine if I've made good choices or if I need to make changes.  And then, finally, at the end of the day I'll sit down in my easy chair and put my feet up and I'll remember how very, very fortunate I am to be a teacher.

5:00 a.m.

When I can't sleep, I wander around trying to get my body to catch up with my thoughts.  When that doesn't happen I sit down and try to get my thoughts to slow down to my body.  If I'm fortunate then things will slow down and I'll be able to get a few hours sleep.  Usually I just end up on the Internet.

Somehow, Facebook has become my go-to place for late night/early morning visits.  I get to find out which friends are also not sleeping.  We can sit around playing games and chatting in the courtesy of our own homes.  If it wasn't so addicting it would be totally cool.

However, the addiction factor cannot be overlooked.  Courtesy of Facebook, my mother has become a Farmville fanatic.  She not only has one delightful farm full of buildings, trees, vehicles and animals - she also has a "sleeper" farm she uses to help supply the things she needs to create the products she sells at her store.  This allows her to "pay" herself for growing things she needs to make money making the things she can. She is currently a multi-millionaire.

I don't really get the whole Farmville thing, but watching my mother and her machinations I think that she should have been a CEO or COO at some moderate-sized corporation.  She has created a network of other Farmville fanatics and has been known to try to recruit people at parties.  She has worked hard to get my grandson, Zac, on her team, giving him directions about what time to get into Farmville so he could ensure that he became part of her conglomerate and explaining to him that if he did as she directed he would become part of a very exciting and innovative assembly of individuals.  She thought that Z would be an excellent team member because he is amazingly orderly and thoughtful for a teenager and he could give her some insight into the youth market.

My mom was recruiting Z pretty heavily.  She patiently explained the advantages he would get if he joined her co-op and he seemed ready to "sign on," but being 14 years old he didn't get on line at the appointed time and my mother was really upset that her merger had failed.

Farmville is an app whose purpose seems to be to amass as much money as
possible while creating a farm that totally reflects the users personality.  Since my mother now has three farms (she gave in an opened a farm in England because she just had to ride the blimp), I notice that certain parts of her personality have become more etrenched. 

If she is focusing on her "home" farm, she's my mother...the woman I grew up with who likes pretty, shiny things and believes in organization and clustering her things around a theme:  Make sure the big bubble gum trees are near the small bubble gum trees, but not too near the mac & cheese trees.  She spends a significant portion of time creating an environment that demonstrates her ability to aquire unusual things and arrange them in an exciting way.

When my mother is in an acquisition phase her focus is on her "sleeper" farm (that's not the word she uses, but I can't remember what she calls it) and the necessity of keeping it secret from some of the members of her conglomerate.  I found out about this second farm when I tried to login to
FB on her computer and the list of persons who could access the app showed up.  Her alias popped up and I asked her about it.  She moved closer to me and in a very quiet voice explained that she needed another farm to ensure the flow of goods for her industry, but that there was a need to keep it from other suppliers because if they knew she was doing that they might take their trade elsewhere.  Bill Gates has nothing on my mother.

She held out a very long time before getting her British farm.  Everytime I'd talk to her she'd tell me about FB friends who "must have nothing else to do with their lives.  I don't have time to manage the three farms I have now, let alone a farm in another country!"  I forgot to explain that my mother also manages "my" farm.  When she first started farming she needed neighbors so she could enlarge her homestead.  I sent her a friend request, she accepted, and I became a silent partner in an amazing quest.  I think her farm is now the largest possible.

So, now she travels to England when she's got everything under control at her American farms.  She doesn't like the British farm as much as the others because "they just don't do things the same way over there."  No sense explaining that "over there" is pretty much the same as "over here."  There is no here or there in cyberspace.

So, between the farming itself, the coordination of growing and delivery times, the scheduling of product development and manufacturing, the recruitment of other associates, and the remodeling that needs to be done regularly, my mother is running a mid-size corporation. 

I wonder if Border's could have been saved if they had invited my mother to virtually manage their company?

Texas Might Have Oil...

but I haven't come up with much else that makes me want to live here.  The heat is oppressive, the drought has everything brown and crispy, and the people who have to go out into the heat are pretty cranky.  So, as well as re-learning how to play cribbage (and getting trounced every time), I've been looking at things for school. 

I love teaching!  I love thinking about what I'm going to teach.  I love thinking about how I'm going to teach it.  I love getting the classroom ready and figuring out what kind of arrangement will work best with what I've been told about the kids who will be in my class.  And I especially love knowing that in just a few short weeks the kids will be coming into the room and the excitement of a new school year will be here.

I don't know how I got lucky enough to be a teacher.  I know it had something to do with the fact that after moving to West Branch and not being able to find a job I had to find something to do with myself.  School seemed to be the answer.  Unfortunately, once I registered for classes I found out I was pregnant - not something I was looking forward to because there were already 5 kids at home (including 2 foster kids). 

Don't get me wrong.  I love kids.  I mean I really love kids.  I love the way they think and the things they think about.  I love their grubby little hands and their dirty little faces.  I love it when they get to giggling so hard they can't breathe.  But what I didn't love (and still don't) is the fact that in my house they always followed me to the bathroom and perched on the heater to tell me what was going on in their life when I just wanted some privacy.  I think they figured out pretty quickly that I used the bathroom as a way to avoid kids.

So, going to school (at the age of 35) to get a degree in education seemed like the way to go.  And now, many years down the road, it definitely was the right thing to do.  I am so excited to be getting ready for another school year.  I sleep a little less, but have more energy.  I organize my notebooks and folders and drive my family crazy with papers, books, and ideas. 

I know how lucky I am to be doing something that I absolutely love and I am grateful for all of the challenges that teaching presents!

Starting With What I Know

A new technological beginning for this digital immigrant and I might as well start with what I know.  I know that I am blessed beyond reason by my family, my friends, my students, and my life.  I know that I believe in the power of love and the power of education.  I know that people are seldom what they seem and often more than I could ever imagine.  I know that given time trust is rewarded.  I know that I am a "work in progress" and I'm working on appreciating how much work has gone into the progress I've made.  I know that tomorrow I will have another chance to do the things that I am designed to do.  And I know that I will do the best that I can.