Why He Had To Be Quiet

Today I was leading a guided reading group using the book Sun and Spoon by Kevin Henkes. You don't really need to know the book, other than that it's a good one that my students (and myself) were able to find many connections with. I am not ashamed that I had such a powerful connection in my pre-reading of the book, that it brought me to tears. I had to share it with my group.

Well, at the end of our conversation we were discussing some of our connections, and a member of my group shared that the book reminded him of his grandfather. And then, completely off topic, the student begins to share one of the most vivid memories of his grandfather. The snippet of his memory led to what is written below. Here is what he shared today, paraphrased by me:

My family lived in El Salvador, but my dad and grandpa already lived here, in our state. But the rest of my family needed to get here, so we left our house in El Salvador. We left our pets and some family that were not strong and some of our stuff. We didn't have a car or even a bicycle to ride. We really wanted to come here so that we could learn and grow up and get good jobs. We walked all the way here. It took us 10 days. We stopped at these houses along the way and they fed us and made us their family for a day. At this one house my dad and grandpa were waiting for us, and he (grandpa) told me jokes and stories even though I was really tired from walking. We had to be really quiet when we were walking because if people found us they would send us back to El Salvador because they would think we were coming here for bad things. But we are good people and we wanted to work hard. We spent all of our money to get here. We had to cross this river once, but some of my family couldn't swim, so we had to pay these men to carry us, to swim us, across the river. After 10 days, we were at our new home.

He was 5 years old.

20 Minutes of Attention

They listened, and then they made the most profound statements afterwards. It was worth the watch, for all of them.

Update on the Mafia and More

It's true. The job written on purple post it. Paid for using goldfish. Sigh. Just call my classroom the Goldfish Mafia. Will do dirty work for miniature cheesy fish, yes we will. In fact, I don't think I should take so lightly that I find goldfish cracker carcasses around my room after the students leave. Perhaps it's a path to the next "job." Ho, hum... guess we'll find out soon enough.

If we're playing a game of Heads-up, 7-up, and we come up missing a few thumbs.... I'll know where to look.

On another note...

Have I ever mentioned how I hate indoor recess? Slushing them through the puddles and rain, only to track the drippiness into our room. Dampness surrounding, squeaky shoes, wet papers... And then to play games indoors when all they want to do is sprint around a green field getting all sweaty and gross. Somehow Mancala doesn't quite fill the shoes of Death by Four Square. (A new, brutal game of our sweet Four Square... apparently the students thought the older version was too dull.)

It's also about 10 minutes into indoor recess that I realize that many, most, of my students haven't played board games. Ever. Which makes the social interaction during these games that much more interesting. This is possibly where the hostility for the Goldfish Mafia stems from. Hm... I should rethink allowing them to play the Game of Life. Goldfish-paid hits and peg-children in a little plastic car just don't mix.

For the Students

Prepared School Remarks from President Obama

For Hire

This morning I did my usual stroll around my classroom. You know the one... where you know you have a purposeful list of things to complete, but instead you must, simply MUST put that stapler over on the other side of the room... IMMEDIATELY.

As I was find a new home for said stapler, I meandered past a students desk. This particular student has found her own learning spot, and her desk happens to face a wall. When I try to move her desk to a more accessible learning spot, the student huffs and scrapes her desk & chair across the room, banging everything and everyone out of her way in the process.

Lately this student has been caught "handling" the students on the playground.

Exhibit A: Student approaches me with another, much smaller student, asking for the smaller student to use the restroom while out at recess one day. I say "Take a friend," knowing that he will be that partner for the bathroom. As they walk away, I see her, towering over him, with her hand firmly gripping the back of his neck - keeping him in a straight path directly to the bathroom. As I watched them walk out of my hollering-range, I see him try to stray from the path for a moment, and then watch the towering student grab his arms and pull him back onto her imaginary track.

Exhibit B: She was caught yesterday picking up another student - male - on the playground. As she picked him up - face to face - he wrapped his legs around her at waist level. After all four teachers stared in amazement or shock for a moment, we then had the right mind to go over and give the "appropriate behavior" talk... again.

So, back to the meandering past her desk....

I see a post-it note on the wall. Not in her handwriting, I think... but I haven't totally eliminated the possibility.

The note says "Push _________ up against the wall at lunch."

A gentle reminder of the bullying she would partake in at a later date and time.

I took the post-it for a later discussion with the student.

Then I started thinking... if someone had written it - then that would mean that they were asking another student to do their dirty work... to be the heavy hand at lunch.

I was chewing on this as the students were arriving. Within 10 minutes, I walked past the student's desk again... only to find what I can only assume is payment for the post-it deed...

A small ziplock bag of goldfish crackers with a note - a purple post-it - that says: For _______. And a smiley face signal as a "go ahead."

So... I'm still thinking it through.... Hired with goldfish or not?

Reason 843 I Love My School

Support.

I teach fourth grade. Today, as I was rushing into a meeting, I stopped in to talk to a fabulous teacher of first grade (used to be fifth and fourth as well!). I am desperately seeking assistance, and Jenny instantly came to mind. In my few moments, I spouted out my agony over one student in my class for the sole purpose of opening a dialogue, selfishly hoping to leach out any grand ideas she may have to help with my current concern, er, opportunity for growth and learning.

I have a sweet new student from Honduras. In the past few weeks I have gotten to know him a bit, and in my broken spanish I have managed to direct him on our classroom procedures and typical American customs such as how it's not okay to tickle people while in line for specials. He has grown socially, and through that growth has become more willing to accept his learning deficits and successes with pride and a sense of accomplishment. So far.

As we have been working with this student, we made observations....

- he will mimic those around him, answering using the same word or thought

- he claims he's 11, no, 10, no, 11....

- he can't tell us when his birthday is

- he can not read to you, but is very good at echoing as he is read to

I decided, one day, to pull out some calendar words that were written in Spanish to see if I could solve the birthday mystery. I had a calendar, and sentence strips with the words written on them - in Spanish. To begin, I asked him to read some of the words.

This is when the emergency brakes screeched. I pulled out picture flashcards I have, and had him identify the picture verbally. Then I showed him the word under the picture and asked him to read it. Silence.

I found out, in this moment, that Mr. November can't read. Or write. In Spanish or English. In fact, he wasn't able to identify the letters of the spanish alphabet. I wanted to hug him and tell him that we were going to try our best to help, and how on earth has he gotten this far without something, someone, anyone... asking him to read. Or write. Someone, something, some system has failed him.

So I could step back and think, I pulled up a great website that has the spanish alphabet, and when you click on the letters it says the name of the letter out loud - which he was happy to repeat, and had a wonderful time listening to and repeating...

and all the while I was thinking.

He is in fourth grade. I'm his fourth grade teacher. I desperately want to help him. But he is on the older side of our usual "age." I'm looking for activities, lessons, games, anything and everything that can help him, but will also not be a blow to his ego. He is very conscious of surroundings and wants to be doing what everyone around him is doing... so even if it's not all of the time, I want him to be sharing in our classroom experiences...

Thoughts?

The Pick and Nag

Brace yourselves. Let me set the scene.

My current classroom is in a new "quad" trailer set up, about 200 fourth grade steps, or 8 minute fourth grader walk, to the nearest bathroom and hand washing station. 8 minutes. If they're efficient. And by efficient I mean they AREN'T tempted to peek under our trailer (which is currently uncovered, so you can see all of the support beams and cinderblocks holding us up). The peek will lead to another, and before you know it you have half a class of fourth graders peering under the trailer with their bodies slithering far too close to the "no no zone."

This means that we wash our hands, on average, 3 times a day. IF we're lucky. Otherwise you have a germ-a-phobe teacher chasing you around the room with hand sanitizer... which has been banned at our school because of a few unfortunate incidents involving a teacher's drink and (separate) incidents of students licking the hand sanitizer off of their hands, and thus, becoming ill and negating the purpose of the application of the hand sanitizer in the first place.

So, the other day I'm minding my business doing one heck of a bang-up job reading a book aloud to the class. I look up during my dramatic pause, and there it is. I count one-two-three-four fingers on a student. Where is the fifth finger, you ask? Three-quarters of the way up one nostril. I think I can see him going cross eyed. Too far, too far! And then, when I made eye contact with the student, he pulled the finger out (YES!) and then stuck it in his mouth (NOOOO!!!!) And then, while still holding my eye contact, he DID IT AGAIN!

No shame. The worst type of nose-picker-and-licker.

I was calculating, in my head, how many minutes, hours, days, this student would be missing from my classroom because he'd be in the bathroom. Sent there by his teacher to scrub his paws.

I made the obligatory "no no no" shake of the head and then the silent mouthing of "go wash your hands."

Ten minutes later he was back at his desk. And for just a moment, I thought he had kicked the public habit. Just for a moment.