An Octopus in Water

I imagine an octopus in water is constantly moving - all 8 arms flailing around as the body floats through the water. Floppy and awkward.

It reminds me of a new student to our school - who landed in my classroom. Just as a reminder to you, the reader, I will tell you that my classroom is outside. I live in a quad that is adjacent to a local wooded park, our windows facing a back field of the school property. Anyone could walk up to my door and knock. Or, in this case, parents.

On the first day of school, Octopus arrived. Both parents in tow. He looked what I thought was timid and unsure at the moment. Now I know that perhaps he was just stuck in his brain and not accessible. I opened the door and welcomed the student to the room. Both parents bombarded the classroom - cracking the working buzz that was happening for those students already hard at work at an opening activity.

Then.

Then the parents took the student to his seat. Then they stood there. Then they pointed and dictated what he would write. On his "All About Me" activity page. Then. Mom took the pencil and filled it in herself.

Twenty minutes of my humming and pacing around them didn't phase these 2. They didn't seem to register my subtle pleas to leave their son with me. They didn't mind when I ignored them. Finally, as I started my first lesson of the day - I somehow broke their spell and they left.

Now I see their little man when he struggles with focusing. When he can only be presented with one basic instruction at a time. In writing. His arms and legs are in constant movement, and he seems to be always locked in his own brain.

Slowly I will find a way to pry his brain open - and I will employ many techniques to help him focus his body energy in positive ways that will help him learn.

I'm going to go Google "how to teach an octopus."

Ish-ness

Early in the year I read the book Ish by Peter Reynolds. I read this book many times throughout the year, but this first time is always my favorite. At our school, this book is usually introduced to the students long before I get them in fourth grade, but for some reason they are silent and spellbound when we pick it up for that first time.

Last year, I shared that thought with the students, to which one replied, "It's because every teacher has a different voice, and it gives a different feeling to the book."

Right back at them. Every class shares something different, reflects in a new way, or responds to the book in a manner I haven't yet heard. Some take Ish very literal, as if there is an end goal and they haven't yet reached it in the way they perceive it should be reached or completed. Others take a more general stand and see Ish as a "close enough" to succeed or feel successful. I hope I am explaining this clearly, it is sometimes hard to capture the thoughts and reflections of 9/10 year olds.

This past year was no exception. It wasn't uncommon to hear "-ish" added on to day-to-day conversations throughout the year from my students, sometimes making sense and sometimes not. And, in true form, on the last day of school I had this conversation with one student:

Me: How are you feeling about being a 5th grader?

J: It's complicated.

Me: Explain what you mean by "complicated."

J: Well, I feel like I could do my best. I could do what they ask, but it might not be what I want to happen or what I want to show. Like I will do something that I feel isn't perfectly right, but not really know how to change it.

Me: A little confidence goes a long way. Be proud of doing your best.

J: Then I guess I'm ready.

Me: Ready!?

J: Ready. (pause) ISH.

ISTE Presentation: Take 2

Here is a link to one of my co-presenters. She has provided a link to our resources and projects site that we share with our attendees. I still have not had time to process this presentation, and will dedicate a post to this in the near future. For now, I wanted you all to be able to see what we share at ISTE.

Here for pre-presentation post.

Here for a direct link to delicious site with links - what we share with our attendees. These are things actually done in our school that we talk about during our presentation.

Minute to Win It

Part of our end of year fun was a grade-level attempt to recreate the gameshow "Minute to Win It." We have 6 classrooms, so we picked 6 of the show's many activities. My room was the site of the "Junk in the Trunk" contest - where you strap an empty tissue box with 8 ping pong balls on your lower back. Without using your hands, you have to shake and jump those 8 balls out of the box in less than a minute.

Repeat 120 times.

The students were creative in ways you can't imagine - trying to get those balls out of that tissue box in any way possible. Some were a little shy about looking like a fool in front of their peers, but most just shook it out. It was hilarious to watch them - and I had giggles for at least most of the first 50. I tried to keep up my enthusiasm, which was definitely a challenge after watching so many... I also tried to keep my mouth shut about ways that worked so well for people before them - I wanted them to have the chance to figure out the road to success on their own.

I had this one student whose body just didn't seem to get the memo. His head was shaking furiously, but not one part of his body was moving. We were all cheering him on, in hopes that our cheers would ignite movement in the parts of this body that would help complete the task. No luck.

I had another student who didn't want to look silly, so he tried to bend backwards (without using his hands, if you can imagine). I was truly impressed by his flexibility and balance as he bent further and further back. Until he collapsed on the box and all 8 balls inside. Good thing I had extra.

These are the moments that I love to share with them at the end of the year.

The giggling moments.

Walking a Cat

When I was younger I had this cat that I just adored. He was so cool. His name was Marbles because of his appearance, but ever since that "fat cat" phase we called him Bubba. Well, Bubba was an outdoor cat with full freedom to roam the neighborhood. In fact, he'd lay in the middle of the street. I remember hearing the neighbors yell "Bubba get out of the road!" as they would slowly drive around him. Well, it was my bright idea, that even though Bubba could walk outside as he pleased, that I should walk him. Yes. I should get a leash with a full harness, strap it all on him, and prance him up and down the sidewalk. The same sidewalk that he already walked, independently.

Well, I don't know if you've ever tried to put a cat on a leash before - but it was wild. Bubba bucked like a ticked off horse, hissed at the slightest touch of the harness. I carried him outside, all harnessed up, and when I put him on the sidewalk it looked as though all of his legs were broken. If a cat could tiptoe - he was definitely showing me how. He stood still for a moment, and then just went berserk - circling around and whipping his paws at the leash. I was sure that he was going to crawl up the thin red fabric between us. It wasn't natural. He wanted free and unharnessed and able to explore ... without the hinderance of my pesky leash.

This is a lot like the last weeks of school. Kids are free and playful and fun, and they can smell summer break like a bear can smell fear. Students have never been so keen to their surroundings as when they can sense the ripeness of the year fresh on their teachers' skin. They can sniff out the moment when their teacher is daydreaming and completely disrupt the rest of the day. So, I spend the last few weeks walking the cat. I try to harness their freedom that they know is SO CLOSE. They start to lose focus and restraint and good sense. So we strap on the harness and place them on the path.

What they don't know is that we're right there with them. We may be trying to keep them restrained for the little while we have left with them, but inside we are playing outside, daydreaming, and losing our own good sense.

Even with the pain of trying to keep them calm, this is my favorite time with the students. We laugh, have fun, and learn all without the pressure of testing. We can do experiments and we have time to explore things we aren't normally able to, due to curriculum restraints. It's a great way to end a year... seeing the students laughing and learning and having a great time. Definitely better than walking the cat.

Test Test Test

Today marked the first of 3 standardized tests for my students - math, reading, and social studies. And, in true fashion, it wasn't without silliness.

1. This morning I handed each student a Magic Pencil. See, I can't say anything to them as they finish their test - none of my usual "Are you sure?" or "Did you double check your work?" They are on their own. So, I passed each of them a Magic Pencil and told them, that if they held the pencil eraser up to their ear... if they were really, REALLY quiet, that they could hear the pencil say... "Did you check all of your work?"

Some of them scoffed, chuckled, and deemed themselves as non-believers in my Magic Pencil. All I replied was "I believe." I believe in them, I believe in what they can accomplish....

After we started the test - I was walking around the room I noticed one of my students staring at her pencil. Intently. Then, all of the sudden, she starts mouthing words. It looked like she was giving herself, or her pencil, a pep talk. Then, as I was watching from the corner of the room, I saw her even give herself a little fist pumping action. Well, in the direction of her pencil. This happened a few times throughout the testing. I even caught her mouthing comments about the questions - smirking, smiling, and looking at the paper as if to say "Haha, I've got you, you fraction comparison!" (disclaimer: In no way am I saying that there was a fraction comparison problem on the test. Or wasn't. There, legal team.)

2. Some of my students, including Queen Goldfish, are tested outside of the classroom for various reasons. Distracting, distractible, or because of some sort of modification from their IEP. QG was testing with one of her biggest admirers and former teachers. I received an email update mid-test from this teacher, sharing some of QG's comments - which - not shocking - had nothing to do with the test. At one point she emailed to tell me that QG had just "strangled her pencil. A-la Homer Simpson." I imagined that Magic Pencil was talking to her, and she was ticked at what it was saying. Thank goodness I later found out that it wasn't the magic pencil, but just a regular ol' number 2. I would love to know what was going through her head, and at what point she decided that strangling a pencil would resolve the issue. I bet on a multiplication problem.

3. Ants in His Pants - the kid that just can't keep still - the kid who picks his nose and eats it (it's a habit that he's growing out of - I have one month to rid him of it completely) - he was working so diligently on his test. I imagine that he was thinking of my "if we make loud noises and disturb others everyone will have to redo the test." I imagine he was thinking this at the moment he FELL OUT OF HIS CHAIR. Right onto the floor.

I'm not sure how we avoided the giggle outburst, but we did. I bit my lip and had to busy myself immediately, in order to get my mind off of the kid that had just fallen on the floor. He hopped right back up and got right back to work. I guess he was just blown out of his chair.

These kids... these amazing kids - they work so hard all year. We work so hard all year, making progress and then taking a few steps back when we need to in order to get it all together. They look at us with honest eyes, hoping that we are teaching them all they need to know. Giving them all of the tools they will need in order to succeed. This test doesn't measure all of that - but it is measured by our confidence and determination during these few weeks.

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.