Leaving Too Soon

For the first time in a long while, I decided to leave school at a reasonable hour. This means within the hour that school let out. It was 4:05 when I drove away from school. As I was turning the corner, I saw Queen Goldfish and her little sister wandering back towards school.

Since QG has a history of wandering, I rolled down my window to ask where they were going.

"Big Sister didn't show up."

"Why can't you just walk home yourselves? I thought your mom said that was okay?"

"Because then Big Sister will be mad we didn't wait for her. We might go the wrong way."

So, I shouted from my window: "Go back to school and we'll call."

I turned my little going-home-early car around and parked myself in the front of the building. Moments later, they joined me as I got out of the car.

"Wow, nice car," she said.

"Thanks, it's Mr.'s car."

"Well, next time you see him, tell him I said it's nice," QG replied.

Then, her little sister chimed in:

"You have a husband?"

"Yes I do! Didn't QG tell you all about me? I am VERY important, you know."

"Do you have any children?" (This, in the mind of children, is what the purpose of being married is. If you're married, you have children. That's that.

"Yes, I have 18 of them, and I teach them ALL DAY LONG."

Little sister enjoyed this response. Then QG chimed in:

"Which one of them is your second favorite?" she asked.

"They are all my favorites," I replied. Then I realized what she said... second favorite. As I realized, I looked over at her... there was a glimpse and a smirk waiting for my recognition...

"Get it, I said SECOND favorite. You know, besides me."

"Clever, Queen Goldfish."

We continued our conversation as we walked into the main office to make the call home.

As we were sitting there, waiting for someone (please someone, anyone, pick up the phone) to answer - the three of us got into a discussion about hygiene. It is true, that as QG gets older, her hygiene habits are becoming more and more apparent. There is NO reason I should smell you before I see you.

Little sister started the conversation by saying that QG told her about the "kit" I kept for her in the classroom - toothbrush, toothpaste, and a hairbrush.

"I take 2 showers a week," little sister said.

"Well, that's pretty good for a 2nd grader, I suppose. You'll probably need more when you get older." Please.

Little sister continued: "QG only takes one a week."

"Sometimes!" QG chimed in. "Sometimes I go more than a week."

We then discussed what would probably be a better routine and for what reasons. I casually and teacher-appropriately hinted that she should probably increase that amount. Then she told me that she doesn't wash her hair every time. Which means that she's washing her hair less than once every 2 weeks. Remember, this is the girl who had all of her hair cut off over Thanksgiving. It may be shorter than normal, but in need of a wash regardless.

I knew I was treading on thin ice, but felt the eyes of encouragement from several co-workers that were passing by.

QG says, "I just took a shower last night to wash my butt because my butt was dirty."

Uh-oh. I can hear the ice cracking.

"Oh, so you just washed your hair!"

"No, I only washed my butt."

Cue change of conversation.

Goose Geese Duck

One of my lovely ladies - a usual quiet but powerful presence in the classroom - shared some interesting news with us the other day.

We were discussing the plural exceptions - the words that you can't just "add an S" onto. As we were listing some of the words we are familiar with - the word goose came up. We then wrote out the plural form.

Then, suddenly, from the corner of the room I hear a loud "OH!" Following the outburst, the quiet lady slapped one hand across her mouth (apparently shocked she could achieve that voice level), and threw the other hand in the air. I love when they are so excited about sharing a thought that their fingers, while the arm is straight as a stick, will wiggle frantically. I imagine all of the dendrites going berserk in the brain with all of this action.

I call on her, and she tells us all that her family now has a new pet. Two, actually. Ducks.

This is a girl that lives in a relatively confined space. With a small outdoor area. And minimal bathroom space. (For some reason I am imagining that the ducks live in the bathtub. I blame Friends).

But, ducks. City ducks.

I imagine that the stories will really start to become interesting as these ducks become bigger. And louder.

I asked her where they got the ducks, and she simply said: "The store." She made it sound like the local Kmart was having a clearance on ducks, and, well, her family happened to be in the right place at the right time.

Who sells ducks? In the city?

Don't Panic

I have how many days to complete the Developmental Reading Assessments (DRAs)?

Our first Standardized test is in how many days? And I have how much material left to cover?

Did I mention I hate May?

But, I love me some June. It's the most fun month with my students- where we can learn what we want to, without a state test looming over us. We have a 4th grade carnival coming up, ice cream parties, technology projects...

Just have to get over May first.

Purple Barns 101

Yesterday we were doing a lesson on visualizing during reading. Good readers visualize, don't you know?

A lesson I have used for the last 2 years uses a paragraph from the book Charlotte's Web. It involves a barn and a great description of the smell and look of the barn - including some words/items in the text that the students may not have ever seen or experienced. I typically either leave out some of the harder items (harness dressing), but still use it as it creates a great visual.

The one thing that I didn't count on was made clear in our discussion of their drawings of their "mind movie."

One of the students went into great detail about this magnificent barn:

He started with:

"It was huge, I'm imagining the size of our quad (our building), and it has a top that is rounded like this." He showed his image. He was on a roll, but I wanted more. I started asking questions about his barn that he hadn't included.

"Wow - a huge barn with a rounded top! I'm starting to see one in my head now, too! What color is your barn?"

"Purple."

Purple. Suddenly I became very aware at what I was missing. These kids don't know barns. They know fictional barns painted in bright colors in various books. They know underwater barns on SpongeBob or some other show they stare at. However, they probably have not ever seen a real barn. Perhaps some of them remember a field trip way back in Kindergarten. Most not. Most weren't even in our country in Kindergarten.

Shame on me for forgetting my audience.

So, adding to the curriculum (a common occurrence in my classroom) - Barn 101. (Not to include cartoon barns).

Bug Lover

I have not seen my class for 2 weeks. Actually, I haven't even seen my classroom in that time. We have been on Spring break and Intersession during the past couple of weeks. So, most of my students started back last Monday with Intersession (optional) classes - while I have continued to nurse my sanity and mentally prepare for a very long fourth quarter.

Bug Lover, the student I have spent so much time in the office with (for various reasons) - the student I have gotten to know so well - the student I have monitored so closely in social situations because of his impulsive urge for inappropriate behavior...

has moved. Out of our school district. In the midst of a school year. For the 2nd time in his school career.

His parents threatened this when they found out about some of their son's behaviors in school. They told us (admin, counselor, and myself) that his behavior was the result of our Nation's culture. His inappropriate touching and (perfect) use of words FAR out of his age-range was, to his parents, caused by television, peers, and the general environment.

When the behaviors escalated, they (unknowingly to me) told Bug Lover that if he continued, they (his family) would not love him any more. Would not LOVE HIM ANYMORE. So, after another incident, when I was walking & talking on our way to the office and he realized where I was taking him - he began sobbing and had tremors so bad I thought he was seizing or something awful.

If the threat of your parents not loving you, which clearly was significant for him (as it would be for anybody), could not control your impulses - then guess what - maybe your impulses have a deeper root and you can not actually control them.

The parents didn't believe this. We suggested counseling. We gave contact information. We pleaded. Pleaded. I adore this student, and it was breaking my heart that he needed this help and we could not give it to him. We couldn't force his parents to get him the help either.

And then it came out.

The parents next threat. Not only did they tell Bug Lover they would not love him... but they told him that if the behaviors continued that they would send him (alone, by himself, without his family) back to Ethiopia to stay with strangers (family that he has never met).

That was 2 months ago.

Previously the parents had moved Bug Lover out of another school for similar behaviors, which is why he ended up in ours. That was in 3rd grade.

Our admin, counselors, myself, and other teachers have put so much effort into turning this into a success for Bug Lover. Something he can learn from, something he can learn to express in appropriate ways. He is so smart, and his addition to my classroom is imperative for us to function. We are all a team, and he plays a very important part. His classmates were accepting and trying to help (after many class discussions), and were being amazingly supportive - and quite frankly - pretty amazing friends to Bug Lover.

Then, last night, I received an email from one of my students. It was simple, and it said :

Bug Lover moved away on Friday.

They moved him. They pulled him out of a school that was working so hard to make it happen for him, a school that surrounded him with support... and they didn't even get his stuff. There is a full desk waiting for me when I get back.

I'm already plotting how that full desk will result in me finding out where he went - so that, you know, I can return that stuff. Because I'm oh-so-concerned about getting him his math notebook.

Or maybe because I want closure. Or follow up. Or for him not to fall through the cracks and to not get the help he desperately needs.

Moving will not change the behavior or the root of it. I wish the parents would have understood that when we spoke those words in every meeting.

They have moved their son. For the same reason that they moved him last year.

I think I'm just shocked. Sudden movement... so strange.

When in Rome...

No, I'm not in Rome. But I do live within a relative driving distance of the Nation's Capital. So, well, while I have grown up here, I have NEVER really explored DC. I have been to the Capitol Building once, when I was young... and had only ever been to a Smithsonian Museum in my early 20's (besides the Air & Space). So, my DC exploration was very limited.

I have never been inside of the White House. OR the Washington Monument, for that reason.

Well, on Friday I am going to use the last day of my vacation to go on a guided tour of the White House and the Capitol. I am psyched, and have spent a good portion of my day reading up on the history of both locations.

In all of my excitement, there is only one thing I keep thinking....

how starry-eyed my students would be if they were there.

The responsibilities of teaching includes sharing experiences that most of my students have not had or may never have in their lifetime. I can't wait to tell them all about this.

Substitute Survival Mode

I was inspired by this post by a coworker to share in one of my latest experiences.

I have been out of the classroom numerous times this year - both for personal and professional reasons. Last week I was out of the room for a team-planning (eating) day - which means LOTS of substitute teachers in the building - 6 just for our grade - and whoever else is out for whatever reason.

My point? That there are times when your guest teacher will not be, um, the best.

Since I was still on property, I went in to check on my students while they were eating lunch.

Five of them had their heads down on the table, 4 of them with tears.

Apparently the day was not going according to plan - for them. They had recess taken away and a few traumatic interactions with the teacher.

We are a very diverse school community. Even with that experience, the students were struggling with communication with the guest teacher. And my plans... well, it seems as though he didn't understand a word of them. I had some great and fun things planned for the class, to keep them busy and keep them learning on a day when I could not be there with them.

In one of the richest counties in the world, and one of the largest and most well-known school districts - it seems odd to me that we do not have much of a training process for potential guest teachers. Job training is imperative for most jobs - why not teaching? Throwing someone into a room with 20 (0r more) kids seems like a perfect situation for job training. Kids are like dogs. They smell weakness and fear. Or monkeys. There are some days I think they might fling poo. At least my class does. There are some days, when I'm there, that I'm surprised that any of us make it out alive. They can leave the room in tears, with a hug, or muttering words under their breath. There's no telling, and it depends on a variety of factors. And, that's with ME.

And although I'm sure my guest teacher had the best of intentions and did the very best job he could - I was still surprised to see this note when I returned to my room: