So many things happen during the school day that are write - worthy. So many interactions and questions and situations come up that I find are on my mind, though with the pace of the day, sometimes they only stick for ten seconds and I have a hard enough time keeping up.
But I didn't mention A. A, the child who lives among violence and has an edge so sharp it will cut your heart. He goes into tough guy mode; by the end of last year it was tough guy acting out as throwing chairs and turning over tables and ripping up work, etc. We started the year with him running off the playground (dirty patch of ground - what slide? what swing?), calling administration, etc. I fear for him at times, that he'll snap into one of his punk ass gigs.
Monday when I was alone he threatened to because I wouldn't let him draw all day, which is what he wanted to do. Math, writing, reading - I don't care which he chose, but not drawing, which is all he wants to do. Which is fine, if some words go with it. He's in third grade for goddsakes. He left the classroom, standing outside of it with his fists clenched and red faced about to snap and it wasn't the day to mess with me. I went out to him and got in his face.
"Look. I bend over backward for you. You get away with so much more than you should because I'm trying to help you get this right. Give me a break. You know I'm alone today here and you pull this out? I help you. It would be nice if you help me."
I knew he might the scene with a big eff you, but I didn't care. Turns out he glared at me for awhile, but he came back in the classroom. I kept him in my periphery. He eventually sat down and did some work, quietly. "BRAVO!!!!" I wanted to scream. "YES!!! GOOD MAN!!!" I wanted to tell him. Instead I keep it all in and later, quietly thank him for his good choices.
Yesterday it was the same thing. His job this week is the attendance, which means he brings it down the hall to the basket. Z had a doctors note she forgot to give me for her absences, so I asked A to see if the attendance was still there and if not, to slip the note in the folder. Z wanted to go with him, so I said sure. Z is a dream first grader. I wish I had a whole class of Z's.
Z came back crying full on tears. A was mean to her, didn't want her to come, sent her back alone. Damn punk. When he came back, I told him he couldn't have the attendance job anymore if he was going to be so mean. She's in first grade, I said. The right thing to do would be to apologize to her.
Of course he was totally pissed and instead went to the library where I have a big white board on the wall and the spelling lists for the week, which he promptly swiped his hand across, erasing half of the first grade spelling words. I noticed of course, but I didn't react. Later I just said "It would be nice if you fixed those words on the board." And I ignored him for awhile.
Later he came to me with an apology note, "Ms. Lowe and Z, I am sorry." something like this - a nice apology note with more said, just can't remember. I thanked him and asked him to give it to Z, which he did. Then I noticed him in the library, re-writing the spelling words.
WOW... you have no idea... these simple little triumphs really are triumphs. I am proud of him like a gushing fountain. Z went up to him later, brave little girl, and said "thank you again for the apology note. That was really nice."
We notice, we all notice when the tough guy has a small victory. It means so much.
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
to calm a child.
My para was back today. Hacking and sniffling and still getting over her weekend flu, but back, which immediately made my day better than yesterday.
They worked hard today. Everyone was busy either doing multiplication or studying dinosaurs or creating maps of continents, etc. etc. It was a good morning.
Though the counselor called and said T was needed downstairs; the cop was back for further questioning. When I told T she was needed in the office, she had a total meltdown. "I'm not going down there," she kept saying. "No, I'm not going down there." I said I'd go with her, but her whole body just collapsed on the floor and she was crying. I called the office back.
"She's traumitized enough. I'm not sending her down there; she's crying, she doesn't want to come and I"m not going to make her."
The principal called next. "What's the problem?"
I told her. "I'll come up," she said. And she did. And somehow she calmly took T with her. T came back twenty minutes later and seemed okay. Phew.
This afternoon when things get nuts near dismissal time my boy J who is nuts anyway was really going off the wall. He's diagnosed ADD, waiting for a new dosage of medication (which just sucks, by the way), and I said "you're sitting with me."
NOOO! NOO!! he protested.
"Yes." I sat on a chair and positioned him beneath me, his head facing out between my knees, my feet in front of him.
"NO!" He said.
"Just for a minute. I just want to give you some calm."
I put my hands on his head and mustered all the calm I could into my hands. I thought as calmly as I could, I thought about giving this boy calm, I kept my hands on his head, and he relaxed under them. I kept my hands on his head and I asked the gathering what song they wanted to sing. We sang "I love the mountains" and "Waltzing with Bears." I sang calmly, quietly, J still under me, my hands on his head. Between songs, I asked if he wanted to move and sit by himself or stay with me.
"I want to stay with you" he said.
He stayed with me until almost everyone was dismissed, clutching homework in their hands. He got his homework, put it in his bag, and then ran to the line.
Oh, well. It lasted a little while.
They worked hard today. Everyone was busy either doing multiplication or studying dinosaurs or creating maps of continents, etc. etc. It was a good morning.
Though the counselor called and said T was needed downstairs; the cop was back for further questioning. When I told T she was needed in the office, she had a total meltdown. "I'm not going down there," she kept saying. "No, I'm not going down there." I said I'd go with her, but her whole body just collapsed on the floor and she was crying. I called the office back.
"She's traumitized enough. I'm not sending her down there; she's crying, she doesn't want to come and I"m not going to make her."
The principal called next. "What's the problem?"
I told her. "I'll come up," she said. And she did. And somehow she calmly took T with her. T came back twenty minutes later and seemed okay. Phew.
This afternoon when things get nuts near dismissal time my boy J who is nuts anyway was really going off the wall. He's diagnosed ADD, waiting for a new dosage of medication (which just sucks, by the way), and I said "you're sitting with me."
NOOO! NOO!! he protested.
"Yes." I sat on a chair and positioned him beneath me, his head facing out between my knees, my feet in front of him.
"NO!" He said.
"Just for a minute. I just want to give you some calm."
I put my hands on his head and mustered all the calm I could into my hands. I thought as calmly as I could, I thought about giving this boy calm, I kept my hands on his head, and he relaxed under them. I kept my hands on his head and I asked the gathering what song they wanted to sing. We sang "I love the mountains" and "Waltzing with Bears." I sang calmly, quietly, J still under me, my hands on his head. Between songs, I asked if he wanted to move and sit by himself or stay with me.
"I want to stay with you" he said.
He stayed with me until almost everyone was dismissed, clutching homework in their hands. He got his homework, put it in his bag, and then ran to the line.
Oh, well. It lasted a little while.
Monday, September 28, 2009
straight from the front lines
Today, lunchtime, in an e mail to myself:
My para is out today. she threatend last week she was taking a day off. what it means is that I'm in my class alone.
what it means is that today when T came in all heebie jeebied out telling other kids but not me what happened finally telling me that some guy was outside the school doors this morning when she came in late and asked her if she wanted to see something and whipped out his penis for her to ponder. she told some friends and they're all a little weirded out. I called the counselor, wrote a report, and now she's in the counselors room with a police filing a report with the counselor, they will not let me in to check on her and when I did go in there the energy was so serious, dark and heavy this traumatized girl needs a pat, a touch, a hug, something but no, that doesn't happen. I asked if she's okay, she just looked down. "Look at me" I said while delivering her lunch. She looked up. "Are you okay?" she looked at my eyes and shook her head no. I touched her face.
"I wish I could stay. We'll talk later." I say to her. My heart breaking.
MC was out of the room all day. I'm alone, what can I do, as long as I could see him in the hallway I let it be. I called the office twice but no one ever came. When he did come in the room he was stealing snack from the snack table, or throwing pencils across the room. By the time we lined up for lunch I was so out of my mind that when he pushed to be first I said NO it's not your job. NO. He then took off running, down the stairwell to god knows where. What could I do? I was alone. I yelled to a mentor observing in a class. "I'm by myself here. One of my students just ran down the stairwell. My other 24 are lined up down the hall."
"I'm just observing here."
"Well can you maybe help out?" Do I have to scream in paragraphs? I bring my attention back to my class and another teacher is reprimanding my class for not standing quiety. Thanks a lot, I got it from here. I drop them at lunch, check on T, tell them she's missing her lunch "well you can bring her lunch here." great. So I run back downstairs, get the lunch, bring it back, the door is locked in the bad ass serious reporting cop and counselor room. I knock again. On the way to the cafeteria I see a para who was in the class next to me last year. "I fucking hate this school" I say to her in passing, my face, I'm sure, harried and old.How am I supposed to do this again? How do I do this?
mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm....
straight to the computer for ten minutes to blurt; that's what the above was. right from the front line.
and I'd elaborate but I'm too damn tired. It was a long ass day.
Before T got to see the counselor and go through an interrogation there was a moment that broke my heart, when one of her friends told her that H likes her. "EW!!" she said. "That makes me think of what happened!!!" haunted by some assholes fat penis. Oh, it makes me sick just to think about...
This afternoon her mom showed up at our recess, outside. I was so glad to see her. Crackhead mom with about six teeth in her head, using or not at the moment, I don' t know - but she talked to T alone, came to talk to me, "yep, that's what she told me too," I said, and we looked at each others eyes, and I just put my arms around this mom and hugged her, hard.
My para is out today. she threatend last week she was taking a day off. what it means is that I'm in my class alone.
what it means is that today when T came in all heebie jeebied out telling other kids but not me what happened finally telling me that some guy was outside the school doors this morning when she came in late and asked her if she wanted to see something and whipped out his penis for her to ponder. she told some friends and they're all a little weirded out. I called the counselor, wrote a report, and now she's in the counselors room with a police filing a report with the counselor, they will not let me in to check on her and when I did go in there the energy was so serious, dark and heavy this traumatized girl needs a pat, a touch, a hug, something but no, that doesn't happen. I asked if she's okay, she just looked down. "Look at me" I said while delivering her lunch. She looked up. "Are you okay?" she looked at my eyes and shook her head no. I touched her face.
"I wish I could stay. We'll talk later." I say to her. My heart breaking.
MC was out of the room all day. I'm alone, what can I do, as long as I could see him in the hallway I let it be. I called the office twice but no one ever came. When he did come in the room he was stealing snack from the snack table, or throwing pencils across the room. By the time we lined up for lunch I was so out of my mind that when he pushed to be first I said NO it's not your job. NO. He then took off running, down the stairwell to god knows where. What could I do? I was alone. I yelled to a mentor observing in a class. "I'm by myself here. One of my students just ran down the stairwell. My other 24 are lined up down the hall."
"I'm just observing here."
"Well can you maybe help out?" Do I have to scream in paragraphs? I bring my attention back to my class and another teacher is reprimanding my class for not standing quiety. Thanks a lot, I got it from here. I drop them at lunch, check on T, tell them she's missing her lunch "well you can bring her lunch here." great. So I run back downstairs, get the lunch, bring it back, the door is locked in the bad ass serious reporting cop and counselor room. I knock again. On the way to the cafeteria I see a para who was in the class next to me last year. "I fucking hate this school" I say to her in passing, my face, I'm sure, harried and old.How am I supposed to do this again? How do I do this?
mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm....
straight to the computer for ten minutes to blurt; that's what the above was. right from the front line.
and I'd elaborate but I'm too damn tired. It was a long ass day.
Before T got to see the counselor and go through an interrogation there was a moment that broke my heart, when one of her friends told her that H likes her. "EW!!" she said. "That makes me think of what happened!!!" haunted by some assholes fat penis. Oh, it makes me sick just to think about...
This afternoon her mom showed up at our recess, outside. I was so glad to see her. Crackhead mom with about six teeth in her head, using or not at the moment, I don' t know - but she talked to T alone, came to talk to me, "yep, that's what she told me too," I said, and we looked at each others eyes, and I just put my arms around this mom and hugged her, hard.
Friday, September 25, 2009
G didn't come to school today. I guess I'm not surprised. The nurse told me that she noticed all the hack marks across her mother's wrists and arms when she finally picked her up at the end of the day. Old scars and fresh slices. WTH ... Why can't someone snatch this child up and give her a life? Why can't I? Last year I wanted to - asked my husband even - we talked about it seriously - we would have made room in our lives - I called DSS, talked to her caseworker, the whole bit. But so much paperwork and time and somehow it fell through the cracks after I miscarried my own child and this and that and this and that... I mean, G is an angel - truly - the most beautiful, sweetest kid - so well behaved and good and just wants to be loved... Ugggg.. How do you stay detached from human beings? How am I to do this as a teacher?
S acted up today in a big way. Her and T pulling hair, fighting, etc. S sitting on tables all day after I told her at least 4 times that we don't sit on furniture in this classroom, etc. Then jumping down steps, landing with a thwack (if you could see these cement stairwells...) - we WALK, we don't JUMP blah blah from me and she gets more and more distant. Probably even stuck her tongue at me when I turned around. Certainly thought, I'm sure, that her teacher is a pain in her ass.
I went to the cafeteria to pick up the kids after lunch, my para was already there and had them in line. She told me to call the office to have S picked up (by a counselor or principal), she was not going to gym, was not going to recess, was pulling T's hair, etc etc.
I was on my way to prep, which is a big ya hoo 45 minute prep time which is about enough time to walk back to the classroom, pee, clean up my desk, then go pick them back up. More often I have some meeting or another. Anyway I took S with me, even though I was really needing that break away from kids.
My para was saying I need to take her to the principal, so I headed that way, holding S. by the wrist. She pulled and cried and cried and wailed. I knew I wasn't going to bring her there. I knew that what she needed was not more anger/punishment but attention and kindness. I let her think I was taking her to the principal's for a little bit, and then we went past the office and instead to the classroom. She went to the library (part of my classroom), layed down and cried into her arm.
I knew she needed that: a good cry.
I put my hand on her back and let her cry. Then said "I have some work to do, why don't you go back to yours?" She was making a calendar, filling in classmates birthdays, etc. I talked to her a bit, said I thought maybe some alone time to work would help more than the principal would, etc. She got to her work and I got to mine, filling out behavior assessments etc documenting some more of my sped/ell M antics...
When we walked back to meet our class for recess I asked her to tell me how she needs to behave on line and with other children. "Stop fighting, no running or jumping" etc. That was that. She leaned against me and put her arms around my waist as we walked.
A was being hard, too. He went into one of his tough guy punk fits. We were on the playground and he decided to leave. I asked I. to go get him, which he did. Sometimes they'll respond better to peers than to an adult. He came back and instead of scolding him I said "A, I need you to help me with the line. I want you to be in charge, would you please?" So when we were lining up, he was making sure everyone was standing properly, going from one to the next touching their arms to adjust their positions, etc. Another eruption averted.
How can I yell and scream at these kids? Don't they get that enough? How can I treat them all the same? It's so amazing to me how much they'll push and push and wait for you to snap and when you're good and snapped they'll smirk as if satisfied and then you want to snap even more but that's when I try to take a deep breath and take a different approach. What if I just love this kid? What if I just give him what he needs? What if I just remind her how important she is?
Not that I always rise up to this. Sometimes I snap and I'm just snapped and I play that dumb human game of control and punishment. But most of the time I try really hard to stop and breathe and maybe try something different. Like love.
How do I remain detached? How do I keep that balance?
How do I protect my heart from breaking?
S acted up today in a big way. Her and T pulling hair, fighting, etc. S sitting on tables all day after I told her at least 4 times that we don't sit on furniture in this classroom, etc. Then jumping down steps, landing with a thwack (if you could see these cement stairwells...) - we WALK, we don't JUMP blah blah from me and she gets more and more distant. Probably even stuck her tongue at me when I turned around. Certainly thought, I'm sure, that her teacher is a pain in her ass.
I went to the cafeteria to pick up the kids after lunch, my para was already there and had them in line. She told me to call the office to have S picked up (by a counselor or principal), she was not going to gym, was not going to recess, was pulling T's hair, etc etc.
I was on my way to prep, which is a big ya hoo 45 minute prep time which is about enough time to walk back to the classroom, pee, clean up my desk, then go pick them back up. More often I have some meeting or another. Anyway I took S with me, even though I was really needing that break away from kids.
My para was saying I need to take her to the principal, so I headed that way, holding S. by the wrist. She pulled and cried and cried and wailed. I knew I wasn't going to bring her there. I knew that what she needed was not more anger/punishment but attention and kindness. I let her think I was taking her to the principal's for a little bit, and then we went past the office and instead to the classroom. She went to the library (part of my classroom), layed down and cried into her arm.
I knew she needed that: a good cry.
I put my hand on her back and let her cry. Then said "I have some work to do, why don't you go back to yours?" She was making a calendar, filling in classmates birthdays, etc. I talked to her a bit, said I thought maybe some alone time to work would help more than the principal would, etc. She got to her work and I got to mine, filling out behavior assessments etc documenting some more of my sped/ell M antics...
When we walked back to meet our class for recess I asked her to tell me how she needs to behave on line and with other children. "Stop fighting, no running or jumping" etc. That was that. She leaned against me and put her arms around my waist as we walked.
A was being hard, too. He went into one of his tough guy punk fits. We were on the playground and he decided to leave. I asked I. to go get him, which he did. Sometimes they'll respond better to peers than to an adult. He came back and instead of scolding him I said "A, I need you to help me with the line. I want you to be in charge, would you please?" So when we were lining up, he was making sure everyone was standing properly, going from one to the next touching their arms to adjust their positions, etc. Another eruption averted.
How can I yell and scream at these kids? Don't they get that enough? How can I treat them all the same? It's so amazing to me how much they'll push and push and wait for you to snap and when you're good and snapped they'll smirk as if satisfied and then you want to snap even more but that's when I try to take a deep breath and take a different approach. What if I just love this kid? What if I just give him what he needs? What if I just remind her how important she is?
Not that I always rise up to this. Sometimes I snap and I'm just snapped and I play that dumb human game of control and punishment. But most of the time I try really hard to stop and breathe and maybe try something different. Like love.
How do I remain detached? How do I keep that balance?
How do I protect my heart from breaking?
Thursday, September 24, 2009
the bugs are back
I'm sitting here not quite noon at home in front of my computer with a chemical soaked head and a plastic bag over it. Why? Seems that I have contracted, for the first time this year and only four weeks in, the dreaded lice.
G came back to school today. I had to take her to the nurse to be sure she was bug - free. Alas, she wasn't. The nurse called her mother, who again flipped, cursed her out and blamed the school for her having lice, blamed the teachers, the nurses, anyone and everyone, claiming we have a personal vendetta against her daughter.
I come back upstairs to get work for her to do while she's waiting for her mother to pick her up, and my para says "oh, Ms. Lowe, wait a minute -" and picks something out of my hair.
Are you fucking kidding me?
So I go to the nurse with work and a request, and sure enough, "yep Ms. Lowe, you have nits."
I didn't want to leave. My class is going well. We seem to have been on a groove this week and I had all kinds of geometry lessons planned.
But no. In about 15 minutes, I will drag the fine tooth comb through my head and watch the little bugs fall out. I'm already gagging.
But at least I didn't get beat up. Though I'm not sure that would have been worse.
I love my job, I hate my job, I love my job, I hate my job.
Dammit.
G came back to school today. I had to take her to the nurse to be sure she was bug - free. Alas, she wasn't. The nurse called her mother, who again flipped, cursed her out and blamed the school for her having lice, blamed the teachers, the nurses, anyone and everyone, claiming we have a personal vendetta against her daughter.
I come back upstairs to get work for her to do while she's waiting for her mother to pick her up, and my para says "oh, Ms. Lowe, wait a minute -" and picks something out of my hair.
Are you fucking kidding me?
So I go to the nurse with work and a request, and sure enough, "yep Ms. Lowe, you have nits."
I didn't want to leave. My class is going well. We seem to have been on a groove this week and I had all kinds of geometry lessons planned.
But no. In about 15 minutes, I will drag the fine tooth comb through my head and watch the little bugs fall out. I'm already gagging.
But at least I didn't get beat up. Though I'm not sure that would have been worse.
I love my job, I hate my job, I love my job, I hate my job.
Dammit.
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
not a bad day...
I told the coming of life story today... I focused on the few that were riveted... very cool how it goes with the timeline, I mean, I learn from it. Good way to start the day, captivating at least a few of them.
I stayed late again, drove the 45 minute commute, stopped at the grocery store for some salmon and stuff, got home, started dinner, kept telling Annie to hang on and I'd take her for a walk, greeted the husband who was in and out (he and Char are at the farm tonight hanging with horses for another little while), took Annie outside, about to go walking but instead followed her in the big field part of our yard where I'd hung a hammock between two trees this summer and have layed on maybe five times. So I brushed the debris off and laid down and swung while watching the dog wrestle a branch and rustle in the leaves. And Ohhhhhhh.... Ahhhhhh... Wow... I could have fallen asleep right there.. it was so comfortable, a nice breeze, a setting sun amidst haze, a happy dog, salmon and squash in the oven, rice on the stove.... How often do I stop? Does anybody stop? And swing on a hammock and appreciate that very moment?
Wow.. until the phone rings as I write this blog...
G still has lice. The poor girl. Her mother is completely unstable, suicidal, has tried burning their apartment by lighting a fire in the corner. G spent a weekend last spring in foster care as this was all investigated, after reported to the school counselor and in turn to DSS by yours truly.
SO a bug fell out of G's hair and on to her shoulder this morning. The other girls at the table all squealed and told me, so I sent her down to the nurses office. G's mother has already cursed out the nurse twice and hanging up on her, claiming it's the school's fault she keeps getting lice, even though she had it all summer. G says "Please don't send me to the nurse. My mother will hit me."
"It's not your fault," I tell her. "It's not your fault."
G has a family friend, a saving grace, a woman who was G's mother's counselor sort of crossed the professional boundary, staying in touch with G and G's mother after the counseling had ended. This woman and I stay in touch as advocates for G. She just called me to say that G's mom called her today, several times, leaving her messages about how she is going to shave G's head and send her to school, the next one she said she's going to pack her bags and run away, and the next she said she'd go to school tomorrow, curse out the principal, find the teacher (me) and beat her (me) up.
"So you might want to alert the principal, or, you know, have someone walk you to your car."
Oh, because I personally gave G lice? It's my fault? Beat ME up? ....Nice.
Obviously this woman, G's mother, is completely irrational. Also capable, I'm sure, of violence, as she's already tried to burn her apartment down and has gone after her husband with a knife.
So should I be nervous at least? Are you kidding? Where was this in the job description?
Where did that moment go on my hammock... that perfect fall happy dog swinging in a cool breeze moment...
Oh, brother.
I stayed late again, drove the 45 minute commute, stopped at the grocery store for some salmon and stuff, got home, started dinner, kept telling Annie to hang on and I'd take her for a walk, greeted the husband who was in and out (he and Char are at the farm tonight hanging with horses for another little while), took Annie outside, about to go walking but instead followed her in the big field part of our yard where I'd hung a hammock between two trees this summer and have layed on maybe five times. So I brushed the debris off and laid down and swung while watching the dog wrestle a branch and rustle in the leaves. And Ohhhhhhh.... Ahhhhhh... Wow... I could have fallen asleep right there.. it was so comfortable, a nice breeze, a setting sun amidst haze, a happy dog, salmon and squash in the oven, rice on the stove.... How often do I stop? Does anybody stop? And swing on a hammock and appreciate that very moment?
Wow.. until the phone rings as I write this blog...
G still has lice. The poor girl. Her mother is completely unstable, suicidal, has tried burning their apartment by lighting a fire in the corner. G spent a weekend last spring in foster care as this was all investigated, after reported to the school counselor and in turn to DSS by yours truly.
SO a bug fell out of G's hair and on to her shoulder this morning. The other girls at the table all squealed and told me, so I sent her down to the nurses office. G's mother has already cursed out the nurse twice and hanging up on her, claiming it's the school's fault she keeps getting lice, even though she had it all summer. G says "Please don't send me to the nurse. My mother will hit me."
"It's not your fault," I tell her. "It's not your fault."
G has a family friend, a saving grace, a woman who was G's mother's counselor sort of crossed the professional boundary, staying in touch with G and G's mother after the counseling had ended. This woman and I stay in touch as advocates for G. She just called me to say that G's mom called her today, several times, leaving her messages about how she is going to shave G's head and send her to school, the next one she said she's going to pack her bags and run away, and the next she said she'd go to school tomorrow, curse out the principal, find the teacher (me) and beat her (me) up.
"So you might want to alert the principal, or, you know, have someone walk you to your car."
Oh, because I personally gave G lice? It's my fault? Beat ME up? ....Nice.
Obviously this woman, G's mother, is completely irrational. Also capable, I'm sure, of violence, as she's already tried to burn her apartment down and has gone after her husband with a knife.
So should I be nervous at least? Are you kidding? Where was this in the job description?
Where did that moment go on my hammock... that perfect fall happy dog swinging in a cool breeze moment...
Oh, brother.
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
tuesday, first day of fall.
Ug.
I mean, just, ug.
It was actually a pretty decent morning, lest sped/ell MC. running the hell out of the classroom four hundred times, and my other darling MD screeching and squealing and complaining and refusing as defiantly as a kid with o.d.d. can (oppositional defiance disorder. I didn't even know it existed until last year, when I encountered it).
Things would be better if it weren't for the paperwork. I'm supposed to teach, guide, maintain, give lessons check follow up chase children re-direct re-direct re-direct AND track three of my students every hour and write down their behaviors for each period. Three of them. On top of everything. How am I supposed to do this?
There was a lot of work going on this morning. B labeled all the countries in South America, and instead of coloring them in, drew the flags of each country. Four children did stamp games (addition of complex numbers), my first graders did the teens boards (and on their follow up work, little I. kept asking me "how do you make a three? How do you make a five?" Sheeeeit. C'mon. Are you kidding me? Did you nap through kindergarten?). Two children were drawing the creatures from the Pre-Cambrian period was it? Two were doing reports on dinosaurs... Etc etc... much much much going on. I have to remind myself of that lest I forget because what sticks in my head more is MC refusing to go into art class and running up and down stairwells where my para chased him for 40 minutes. What sticks is S pulling T's hair and the daily fighting between those girls; S turning her hands upside down and gripping her neck pressing her thumbs against her throat until she turns red.
Yet here is what's funny.
Either I'm maturing somehow within the context of this job, letting things go and shaking them off, or I just don't care.
I don't think it's that I don't care. Because I stayed at work until after 6 on Friday and until 6 yesterday and until 430 today and I'm changing things, trying things, giving lessons, etc. If I didn't care I wouldn't bother with all of that. So I must care, I know I do. I'm just not feeling as tapped out as I did last year. I'm managing to conserve energy. I don't really know how.
Monday's are my long days. Meeting after work every week, then I stay until 6 and go into the hipster town to stroll and get my people/culture/town fix. I often love living in the boonies, but I really do miss the bustle of even a small town; movie theaters, ethnic food, bookstores... And then there's my writing group. By the time I drive home, it's 11 pm and I fall into bed. But I love it- it feeds me - even though I know that I will be tired on Tuesdays, it doesn't matter.
I didn't do this last year. I didn't make it into town on a weekly basis, have a spicy meal (my husband hates spice. I love it.), browse a bookstore or look at cool art, get a coffee that doesn't come from a gas station. I didn't write, either. I claimed I had no time, and I didn't, and I still don't, but I make it, the time, and it makes a difference.
I still haven't gotten the exercise routine down, and this bothers me. Some walks with the dog maybe, but no hard out workout like I used to when life was more convenient. My gym is a half hour in the other direction and I just can't fit the time in without having none left. So I walk the dog and call it good, and feel my arms and ass go to mush in the meantime.
I haven't even been down to the horse barn in like two weeks. I used to make it there a few or at least couple times a week. Cocoa isn't going to recognize me next time I go to see him, or, yes he will, but he'll probably give me the cold shoulder.
But I am aware; aware of the time I need to carve out for myself; aware of the writing I need to do to preserve my sanity, the exercise, even if minimal at this point, I need to keep up and do more of. The town visits and getting out of the woods, also for my sanity.
All of this keeps me more in tact - more available - more whole - more me. Last year I didn't pay attention, just let school suck me in and under like a rip tide at the ocean. This year I'm diving into a calm pool instead. At least trying. I might flap my arms and look like I'm sinking and at times I really am, but at least I'm not at the whim of the ocean.
So far so good. Or, at least as good as it can be.
Right now gotta go cook dinner with my husband and keep us whole, too.
I mean, just, ug.
It was actually a pretty decent morning, lest sped/ell MC. running the hell out of the classroom four hundred times, and my other darling MD screeching and squealing and complaining and refusing as defiantly as a kid with o.d.d. can (oppositional defiance disorder. I didn't even know it existed until last year, when I encountered it).
Things would be better if it weren't for the paperwork. I'm supposed to teach, guide, maintain, give lessons check follow up chase children re-direct re-direct re-direct AND track three of my students every hour and write down their behaviors for each period. Three of them. On top of everything. How am I supposed to do this?
There was a lot of work going on this morning. B labeled all the countries in South America, and instead of coloring them in, drew the flags of each country. Four children did stamp games (addition of complex numbers), my first graders did the teens boards (and on their follow up work, little I. kept asking me "how do you make a three? How do you make a five?" Sheeeeit. C'mon. Are you kidding me? Did you nap through kindergarten?). Two children were drawing the creatures from the Pre-Cambrian period was it? Two were doing reports on dinosaurs... Etc etc... much much much going on. I have to remind myself of that lest I forget because what sticks in my head more is MC refusing to go into art class and running up and down stairwells where my para chased him for 40 minutes. What sticks is S pulling T's hair and the daily fighting between those girls; S turning her hands upside down and gripping her neck pressing her thumbs against her throat until she turns red.
Yet here is what's funny.
Either I'm maturing somehow within the context of this job, letting things go and shaking them off, or I just don't care.
I don't think it's that I don't care. Because I stayed at work until after 6 on Friday and until 6 yesterday and until 430 today and I'm changing things, trying things, giving lessons, etc. If I didn't care I wouldn't bother with all of that. So I must care, I know I do. I'm just not feeling as tapped out as I did last year. I'm managing to conserve energy. I don't really know how.
Monday's are my long days. Meeting after work every week, then I stay until 6 and go into the hipster town to stroll and get my people/culture/town fix. I often love living in the boonies, but I really do miss the bustle of even a small town; movie theaters, ethnic food, bookstores... And then there's my writing group. By the time I drive home, it's 11 pm and I fall into bed. But I love it- it feeds me - even though I know that I will be tired on Tuesdays, it doesn't matter.
I didn't do this last year. I didn't make it into town on a weekly basis, have a spicy meal (my husband hates spice. I love it.), browse a bookstore or look at cool art, get a coffee that doesn't come from a gas station. I didn't write, either. I claimed I had no time, and I didn't, and I still don't, but I make it, the time, and it makes a difference.
I still haven't gotten the exercise routine down, and this bothers me. Some walks with the dog maybe, but no hard out workout like I used to when life was more convenient. My gym is a half hour in the other direction and I just can't fit the time in without having none left. So I walk the dog and call it good, and feel my arms and ass go to mush in the meantime.
I haven't even been down to the horse barn in like two weeks. I used to make it there a few or at least couple times a week. Cocoa isn't going to recognize me next time I go to see him, or, yes he will, but he'll probably give me the cold shoulder.
But I am aware; aware of the time I need to carve out for myself; aware of the writing I need to do to preserve my sanity, the exercise, even if minimal at this point, I need to keep up and do more of. The town visits and getting out of the woods, also for my sanity.
All of this keeps me more in tact - more available - more whole - more me. Last year I didn't pay attention, just let school suck me in and under like a rip tide at the ocean. This year I'm diving into a calm pool instead. At least trying. I might flap my arms and look like I'm sinking and at times I really am, but at least I'm not at the whim of the ocean.
So far so good. Or, at least as good as it can be.
Right now gotta go cook dinner with my husband and keep us whole, too.
Sunday, September 20, 2009
sunday night and balance.
I've been thinking a lot about balance today. I don't think I had it last year at my job.
It's so easy to take on these kids... their stuff... it's so easy to feel the pain of some of these kids, and hard to focus on the hope. It's so hard to hear some of their stories without some piece inside breaking just a little. Last year I had a total meltdown over it all. Hell, I even had a miscarriage. How does one detach in this work and yet remain committed and whole?
Last year I almost always gave the extra. I almost always took the hard ass kid by the hands and waited for him/her to look into my eyes so that he/she knew that they were Seen. I wanted them to know that I saw them - and I respected them - and I honored them - for doing the best that they can. I mean, they really do the best they can - they can't help it if the world around them is unstable and inconsistent. I want to look at them all and invite them back into their bodies .. make it safe for them, if only for a day, an hour, a moment.
But then in that seeing - in that invitation - in that gaze - I acknowledge their hearts in a way that invites them inside of me...
and then, perhaps, that starts a collection of situations and little lovely souls that I hold in me, and I love and I love until my heart breaks into pieces and I am no longer whole.
And what good is that?
This year I am not nearly as open. It's counter intuitive to me. It's not really how I want to be, but it's a matter of self preservation.
I see who/how I want to be: a shining example, a happy person who doesn't lose her patience and can gently and firmly usher back on the track, all the time serene and smiling. This pillar of strength that doesn't get tired of chasing the run-aways or catching the apple before it falls. (I went apple picking today.) I don't know how many times my para and I see the eruption coming and re-direct before chairs are thrown.
Last year I deliberately did not catch an apple. I wanted to see what would happen. Of course, the child went wild, threw materials from off the shelves across the room, toppled over tables... I had to evacuate the class, call counselors up. It took two to remove her, screaming her head off as they carried her away. "What happened?" my lovely asst. principal at the time asked. I told her, perfectly honestly, "I wanted to see what would happen if I didn't catch her."
Cuz that's real life. Cuz that's the deal. Cuz I'm not always there, there won't be someone there all the time who cares and sees and helps and assists these kinds of passes.
(big football game today. I'm full of metaphors).
Not to say that I won't be catching anymore apples or assisting passes. But how do I keep myself engaged and removed at the same time? How do I care and love without feeling like I have to brush myself off when I get home, pieces of children and their hearts stuck all over my sleeves? How do I come home and let go and laugh and not have nightmares? How do I sleep?
Here's another metaphor of sorts. I re-potted plants today; plants that had gotten too big for their homes. One of them, a hanging trailer, wouldn't come out of it's plastic pot. "C'mon," I urged this plant. "You need more room so you can grow." I finally got it to come out, it's roots wrapped so tightly around itself I felt guilty I'd waited so long. I put it in a deeper, wider pot - filled in with miracle-grow soil - hung it outside on the porch to bask in the sun for the afternoon and by the time I brought it in, I could see that it had claimed new space. It's full and happy and perky and I swear I can hear it breathing in big sighs.
And there's me. I need more room to grow. I'm not even sure what this means to me right now or how to give myself that space. I can't keep giving of myself to the point that I have nothing left. I have to find new ways of doing this - keeping myself in tact - shaking off at the end of the day - getting sleep without nightmares or mind spins of lessons and troubles and meetings and behaviors...
I have to up-root from an old way of being, and I have started, though the detached approach isn't working so well.
Couldn't I just let go, do the best I can every day, make it enough that I've done the best I can, and let it go?
Couldn't I just find a bigger pot to claim space in, fill up with some extra dirt and let my roots extend further? Couldn't it just be as easy, like that? Like nature?
Lesson planning awaits. Sunday night blues.
It's so easy to take on these kids... their stuff... it's so easy to feel the pain of some of these kids, and hard to focus on the hope. It's so hard to hear some of their stories without some piece inside breaking just a little. Last year I had a total meltdown over it all. Hell, I even had a miscarriage. How does one detach in this work and yet remain committed and whole?
Last year I almost always gave the extra. I almost always took the hard ass kid by the hands and waited for him/her to look into my eyes so that he/she knew that they were Seen. I wanted them to know that I saw them - and I respected them - and I honored them - for doing the best that they can. I mean, they really do the best they can - they can't help it if the world around them is unstable and inconsistent. I want to look at them all and invite them back into their bodies .. make it safe for them, if only for a day, an hour, a moment.
But then in that seeing - in that invitation - in that gaze - I acknowledge their hearts in a way that invites them inside of me...
and then, perhaps, that starts a collection of situations and little lovely souls that I hold in me, and I love and I love until my heart breaks into pieces and I am no longer whole.
And what good is that?
This year I am not nearly as open. It's counter intuitive to me. It's not really how I want to be, but it's a matter of self preservation.
I see who/how I want to be: a shining example, a happy person who doesn't lose her patience and can gently and firmly usher back on the track, all the time serene and smiling. This pillar of strength that doesn't get tired of chasing the run-aways or catching the apple before it falls. (I went apple picking today.) I don't know how many times my para and I see the eruption coming and re-direct before chairs are thrown.
Last year I deliberately did not catch an apple. I wanted to see what would happen. Of course, the child went wild, threw materials from off the shelves across the room, toppled over tables... I had to evacuate the class, call counselors up. It took two to remove her, screaming her head off as they carried her away. "What happened?" my lovely asst. principal at the time asked. I told her, perfectly honestly, "I wanted to see what would happen if I didn't catch her."
Cuz that's real life. Cuz that's the deal. Cuz I'm not always there, there won't be someone there all the time who cares and sees and helps and assists these kinds of passes.
(big football game today. I'm full of metaphors).
Not to say that I won't be catching anymore apples or assisting passes. But how do I keep myself engaged and removed at the same time? How do I care and love without feeling like I have to brush myself off when I get home, pieces of children and their hearts stuck all over my sleeves? How do I come home and let go and laugh and not have nightmares? How do I sleep?
Here's another metaphor of sorts. I re-potted plants today; plants that had gotten too big for their homes. One of them, a hanging trailer, wouldn't come out of it's plastic pot. "C'mon," I urged this plant. "You need more room so you can grow." I finally got it to come out, it's roots wrapped so tightly around itself I felt guilty I'd waited so long. I put it in a deeper, wider pot - filled in with miracle-grow soil - hung it outside on the porch to bask in the sun for the afternoon and by the time I brought it in, I could see that it had claimed new space. It's full and happy and perky and I swear I can hear it breathing in big sighs.
And there's me. I need more room to grow. I'm not even sure what this means to me right now or how to give myself that space. I can't keep giving of myself to the point that I have nothing left. I have to find new ways of doing this - keeping myself in tact - shaking off at the end of the day - getting sleep without nightmares or mind spins of lessons and troubles and meetings and behaviors...
I have to up-root from an old way of being, and I have started, though the detached approach isn't working so well.
Couldn't I just let go, do the best I can every day, make it enough that I've done the best I can, and let it go?
Couldn't I just find a bigger pot to claim space in, fill up with some extra dirt and let my roots extend further? Couldn't it just be as easy, like that? Like nature?
Lesson planning awaits. Sunday night blues.
Friday, September 18, 2009
Friday night... three weeks in.
I didn't plan for the week this week... New York visit, got back way later than I should have, writing group Monday and open house Wednesday... planned by the day the night before, went pretty well, but last night just slacked. Thought I'd get up early but this cold is creeping back and I was plastered to the bed that extra half hour and then had to run. Started the day winging it. Which I did sometimes last year, but not til the end of the year where the kids were pretty self sufficient. Today? Disaster.
Just chaotic and unsettled and unstructured... very bad formula. I gathered them together and admitted to the kids that I didn't have a plan and felt responsible for it being a hard day for everyone... I. kept saying "That's alright, Ms. Lowe. It's not your fault. It's alright." (God I love that kid).
MC. sped ell boy was off the wall, of course, again. He told my para that he "hears voices that tell him to do stuff" ...
He is beautiful and brown with these gorgeous cheeks, and he comes up to me with lightning espanol even though he knows I don't know what the hell he is saying ... sometimes I just look at him and say "escaboomboomwallamoo?" He shakes his head and I giggle.
I am loving him - I mean, he's a PAIN IN MY ASS and then he'll turn around and flash a grin and a cock of the head and I want to just hang out with him, learn some spanish, check him out, find out what he's about. But the running out of the room, "el banyo" - the kid goes to the bathroom every ten minutes without permission, just runs. In the classroom he lays on the floor, rolls around. He sits at tables with other children and rambles to them (most understand) and makes faces. He is so jolly, but does not know one letter sound, ran away from me when I showed him math work. He insists that he should be first on line, every single time, and cuts in front of whoever is first, refusing to move. And then, as the leader, he is 20 steps ahead of every one else. He is harmless, but he is not learning a damn thing, is completely disruptive, and my para or I do nothing but chase him around. We actually take turns. It's insanity.
The sped person evaluation team whatever the title is told me that he's up for evaluation, but not until after Oct. 26. "Are you kidding me?" I ask.
So the chasing will go on for another six weeks, at least. Great.
J. is a first grader. ADD diagnosed. Yesterday at the pick up entrance he was on his fathers shoulders when he hacked a spit wad on a girl that was "bugging him." Totally impulsive, whizzes across the room like a ping pong ball, but also has periods of sitting and doing work. His mom came to open house and gave me the story. His doctor called me yesterday to ask me of how he is in the classroom, and that his mom will be bringing me some forms to fill out. His parents would do anything for him. He was on medication, but not anymore and they want to try and keep him off it.
So I called her today after school to check in.
She was so thankful, so happy I called - "I know how busy you are" she said - and it only took a few minutes to say I'm aware of the behaviors, I'm tracking him, I talked to his doctor, we're in this as a team for him - and though taking on MORE STUFF ... extra forms and extra meetings and extra extra on top of the million other extras of this job... it scares me, and it feels good.
I wanted to call MD's mom, my crazy girl. She is a ticking bomb, all the time, screams out of nowhere, makes noises, starts trouble, my God, all the time. Today she was saying "(name of student from other class) called me a SLUT. She called me a SLUT."
"MD, stop. I heard you."
"Yeah, but she called me a SLUT." ...
knowing full well how that word gets a rise... knowing full well that her volume was deliberate...
And I couldn't get through to her mother.
The other mother I called was S's; the one who's mother I struck into silence when I told her flat out her kid doesn't care for authority and doesn't follow instructions. I guess maybe I felt a little bad so I've been trying to hook him into work more lately - and today he read "Danny the Dinosaur" and then did a research report about dinosaurs and the earth. He told me "I've decided I'm going to be good, teacher." I told her about this, and about how proud I was of the work he did today.
But I was also at work til nearly 6. On a Friday. Having arrived before 8. And I could have been there for hours and hours... I mean the work is just never done... and I haven't even thought about lesson plans for next week, yet. I was filing and sorting and putting sticky notes on what needs laminating, what needs copying, what needs to go to the office. I have behavior evals to fill out this weekend, I have projects to create, I have name cards to make.
And I sit here and sneeze, that real hard kind of sneeze where when it's done my nose is filled with snot and my throat instantly hurts.
Ug.
My friend teaches in a private Montessori school in Seattle. The children in her class, the calm, the vibe... it all sounds so fun, so easy, so blissful. I know it's work no matter what, I know it's hard no matter what. Teaching is just hard. But to be in a school with so few behavior problems, with classroom budgets and with WALLS for goodness sakes... Wow. I'm so envious. I mean to just go in and teach. What was that like again? I can't really remember.
TGIF. As my kids say, "I'm out."
Just chaotic and unsettled and unstructured... very bad formula. I gathered them together and admitted to the kids that I didn't have a plan and felt responsible for it being a hard day for everyone... I. kept saying "That's alright, Ms. Lowe. It's not your fault. It's alright." (God I love that kid).
MC. sped ell boy was off the wall, of course, again. He told my para that he "hears voices that tell him to do stuff" ...
He is beautiful and brown with these gorgeous cheeks, and he comes up to me with lightning espanol even though he knows I don't know what the hell he is saying ... sometimes I just look at him and say "escaboomboomwallamoo?" He shakes his head and I giggle.
I am loving him - I mean, he's a PAIN IN MY ASS and then he'll turn around and flash a grin and a cock of the head and I want to just hang out with him, learn some spanish, check him out, find out what he's about. But the running out of the room, "el banyo" - the kid goes to the bathroom every ten minutes without permission, just runs. In the classroom he lays on the floor, rolls around. He sits at tables with other children and rambles to them (most understand) and makes faces. He is so jolly, but does not know one letter sound, ran away from me when I showed him math work. He insists that he should be first on line, every single time, and cuts in front of whoever is first, refusing to move. And then, as the leader, he is 20 steps ahead of every one else. He is harmless, but he is not learning a damn thing, is completely disruptive, and my para or I do nothing but chase him around. We actually take turns. It's insanity.
The sped person evaluation team whatever the title is told me that he's up for evaluation, but not until after Oct. 26. "Are you kidding me?" I ask.
So the chasing will go on for another six weeks, at least. Great.
J. is a first grader. ADD diagnosed. Yesterday at the pick up entrance he was on his fathers shoulders when he hacked a spit wad on a girl that was "bugging him." Totally impulsive, whizzes across the room like a ping pong ball, but also has periods of sitting and doing work. His mom came to open house and gave me the story. His doctor called me yesterday to ask me of how he is in the classroom, and that his mom will be bringing me some forms to fill out. His parents would do anything for him. He was on medication, but not anymore and they want to try and keep him off it.
So I called her today after school to check in.
She was so thankful, so happy I called - "I know how busy you are" she said - and it only took a few minutes to say I'm aware of the behaviors, I'm tracking him, I talked to his doctor, we're in this as a team for him - and though taking on MORE STUFF ... extra forms and extra meetings and extra extra on top of the million other extras of this job... it scares me, and it feels good.
I wanted to call MD's mom, my crazy girl. She is a ticking bomb, all the time, screams out of nowhere, makes noises, starts trouble, my God, all the time. Today she was saying "(name of student from other class) called me a SLUT. She called me a SLUT."
"MD, stop. I heard you."
"Yeah, but she called me a SLUT." ...
knowing full well how that word gets a rise... knowing full well that her volume was deliberate...
And I couldn't get through to her mother.
The other mother I called was S's; the one who's mother I struck into silence when I told her flat out her kid doesn't care for authority and doesn't follow instructions. I guess maybe I felt a little bad so I've been trying to hook him into work more lately - and today he read "Danny the Dinosaur" and then did a research report about dinosaurs and the earth. He told me "I've decided I'm going to be good, teacher." I told her about this, and about how proud I was of the work he did today.
But I was also at work til nearly 6. On a Friday. Having arrived before 8. And I could have been there for hours and hours... I mean the work is just never done... and I haven't even thought about lesson plans for next week, yet. I was filing and sorting and putting sticky notes on what needs laminating, what needs copying, what needs to go to the office. I have behavior evals to fill out this weekend, I have projects to create, I have name cards to make.
And I sit here and sneeze, that real hard kind of sneeze where when it's done my nose is filled with snot and my throat instantly hurts.
Ug.
My friend teaches in a private Montessori school in Seattle. The children in her class, the calm, the vibe... it all sounds so fun, so easy, so blissful. I know it's work no matter what, I know it's hard no matter what. Teaching is just hard. But to be in a school with so few behavior problems, with classroom budgets and with WALLS for goodness sakes... Wow. I'm so envious. I mean to just go in and teach. What was that like again? I can't really remember.
TGIF. As my kids say, "I'm out."
Thursday, September 17, 2009
thurday, better.
I. A and B were on the checkerboard today... multiplying into the millions, which was very cool - they thought it was so fun, worked on it all morning. love that.
But the nightmares have started. The not-getting-it-all-done nightmares, the ones where the principals are in my room and my class is a mess and nobody can read and it's all my fault. Dammit. Woke up with a few of them last night... And oh yeah, I remember last year now, and how I became the worst insomniac worrying about kids and standards and parents and accountability...
And G has lice. G, who's thick black hair was infested over and over and over last year, to the point that the nurse filed a report. Though S was worse, and reported as well. Her mother thought dying her hair blond would do the trick. So my brown eyed girl is a constant bottle blonde. I had lice four times last year, maybe five? You have no idea how disgusting and I mean to the point of gagging it is when you find yourself combing bugs out of your hair. So this year, I see nits, and I have no mercy. Nurse. Now. Bye.
I feel for the parents, sure. They don't call it "nit-picking" for nothing. My husband has his thick fingers in my slippery straight hair, squinting his eyes under a bright light... ugh. Awful. How did I forget about this? Lice and Nightmares?
My stepdaughter was just watching the weather channel. "Full moon tonight."
"Really?" I call out. "Tonight?"
"Yeah, why?"
"It just makes sense."
"There must be something going on," one of my teacher friends said this afternoon. "Two of my kids got into fights today."
"Mine were crazy too!" I say back.
And another teacher rolls her eyes, shakes her head and says "don't even ask."
But I digress.
What I really wanted to say was that I feel like this has become this whine forum. All I seem to do is write about how hard and thankless my job is, but that's not really the truth. There are moments - and sometimes they are only moments - and sometimes they are extended lessons where the children really get what I'm teaching and are rapt to be left on their own to explore... Or the hard edge kid that turns it around with just the right amount of love and boundary... Like J, who came in like a lion last year, and now is one of my best students. Or A, the boy who ran from the playground, who has not had a really bad day since... He has not run out of the room, or thrown a chair or anything. And if you knew him, you would know that this is glory.
And the love - the "can I give you a hug Ms. Lowe?" or the drawings, the hearts, the "I love you Ms. Lowe"'s ... There are the moments of really looking into a child's eyes - I mean really looking, seeing, acknowledging, connecting - and a spark of love and pride and hope so deep it keeps you going... keeps me going... I mean, there really is that, too...
And my fellow teachers - You cannot work at this job without a big heart. And so many of my colleagues have huge hearts - and we all know, like a club or a tribe, we all know what the other is facing. In fact nobody understands more -no spouses, no friends - I mean, when a teacher friend turns and says "I had a bad day..." you can imagine exactly what that day was like and with a heart full of sincerity and compassion, say, "I know what you mean."
It is such a push/pull. It is such a black/white scenario - it is so heartening and disheartening at the same time. It is so hopeful and so agonizing.
My ell sped kid MC. who listens to nothing and no one and yet smiles - I mean, really I think he has the mentality of a two year 0ld - and today when he ran out of the room for the umteenth time and my para had to go chasing him, AGAIN, I called the office to say "I can't do this anymore." MC. knew what was going on, me on the phone, and the guy bawled. I mean wept. And came and hugged me so hard, snot and tears and all, and I knew - I know - it's not really this kid's fault. For whatever reason, he really can't help himself. And I hugged him back and when the counselor came I said "we have to do something for this kid. He needs more than we can give in here."
So now it's documenting by the moment and mounds of papers and forms to see that this happens. And we'll see from there. Meantime, the counselor told me he'll have to stay in my room for at least a few months while this processes.
I already knew this. And though he is a pain in my ass, I really love the guy. He is so endearing and smiles and though we don't know one another's language, we understand somehow.
Though I am learning more and more Spanish and using phrases in my class... I love this, too.
But it's really not all bad, even if it is, even if I complain that it is. I would have walked out by now if there wasn't something in it for me. I really do love it and hate it and love it and hate it and love it.
And sometimes I can't think I can do it one more day, and then it's a good day and I can do it for one more day after that - and on it goes.
So. tomorrow's Friday. And thank God, that's no lie.
But the nightmares have started. The not-getting-it-all-done nightmares, the ones where the principals are in my room and my class is a mess and nobody can read and it's all my fault. Dammit. Woke up with a few of them last night... And oh yeah, I remember last year now, and how I became the worst insomniac worrying about kids and standards and parents and accountability...
And G has lice. G, who's thick black hair was infested over and over and over last year, to the point that the nurse filed a report. Though S was worse, and reported as well. Her mother thought dying her hair blond would do the trick. So my brown eyed girl is a constant bottle blonde. I had lice four times last year, maybe five? You have no idea how disgusting and I mean to the point of gagging it is when you find yourself combing bugs out of your hair. So this year, I see nits, and I have no mercy. Nurse. Now. Bye.
I feel for the parents, sure. They don't call it "nit-picking" for nothing. My husband has his thick fingers in my slippery straight hair, squinting his eyes under a bright light... ugh. Awful. How did I forget about this? Lice and Nightmares?
My stepdaughter was just watching the weather channel. "Full moon tonight."
"Really?" I call out. "Tonight?"
"Yeah, why?"
"It just makes sense."
"There must be something going on," one of my teacher friends said this afternoon. "Two of my kids got into fights today."
"Mine were crazy too!" I say back.
And another teacher rolls her eyes, shakes her head and says "don't even ask."
But I digress.
What I really wanted to say was that I feel like this has become this whine forum. All I seem to do is write about how hard and thankless my job is, but that's not really the truth. There are moments - and sometimes they are only moments - and sometimes they are extended lessons where the children really get what I'm teaching and are rapt to be left on their own to explore... Or the hard edge kid that turns it around with just the right amount of love and boundary... Like J, who came in like a lion last year, and now is one of my best students. Or A, the boy who ran from the playground, who has not had a really bad day since... He has not run out of the room, or thrown a chair or anything. And if you knew him, you would know that this is glory.
And the love - the "can I give you a hug Ms. Lowe?" or the drawings, the hearts, the "I love you Ms. Lowe"'s ... There are the moments of really looking into a child's eyes - I mean really looking, seeing, acknowledging, connecting - and a spark of love and pride and hope so deep it keeps you going... keeps me going... I mean, there really is that, too...
And my fellow teachers - You cannot work at this job without a big heart. And so many of my colleagues have huge hearts - and we all know, like a club or a tribe, we all know what the other is facing. In fact nobody understands more -no spouses, no friends - I mean, when a teacher friend turns and says "I had a bad day..." you can imagine exactly what that day was like and with a heart full of sincerity and compassion, say, "I know what you mean."
It is such a push/pull. It is such a black/white scenario - it is so heartening and disheartening at the same time. It is so hopeful and so agonizing.
My ell sped kid MC. who listens to nothing and no one and yet smiles - I mean, really I think he has the mentality of a two year 0ld - and today when he ran out of the room for the umteenth time and my para had to go chasing him, AGAIN, I called the office to say "I can't do this anymore." MC. knew what was going on, me on the phone, and the guy bawled. I mean wept. And came and hugged me so hard, snot and tears and all, and I knew - I know - it's not really this kid's fault. For whatever reason, he really can't help himself. And I hugged him back and when the counselor came I said "we have to do something for this kid. He needs more than we can give in here."
So now it's documenting by the moment and mounds of papers and forms to see that this happens. And we'll see from there. Meantime, the counselor told me he'll have to stay in my room for at least a few months while this processes.
I already knew this. And though he is a pain in my ass, I really love the guy. He is so endearing and smiles and though we don't know one another's language, we understand somehow.
Though I am learning more and more Spanish and using phrases in my class... I love this, too.
But it's really not all bad, even if it is, even if I complain that it is. I would have walked out by now if there wasn't something in it for me. I really do love it and hate it and love it and hate it and love it.
And sometimes I can't think I can do it one more day, and then it's a good day and I can do it for one more day after that - and on it goes.
So. tomorrow's Friday. And thank God, that's no lie.
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
open house
Long endless day. At school from 715a to 730p for open house. But you know, it was a pretty good day. Lots of work - maps and math and checkerboard (complex multiplication up to the billions) ... Montessori is some amazing stuff... and once started, the children really do learn on their own by exploring... at least the ones who aren't screaming and running out of the room.
But didn't have that so much today... In fact the day was so long I can hardly remember it already.
Open house was good. More parents showed up than expected; many of my first graders (new kids) parents showed up - a lot of support and genuine respect and care. It was pretty great.
So I ask myself if I'm just cynical? ... mmm yeah I don't think so. I wish it were that simple.
It's hard. My husband just asked about my facebook page. I strolled him through it, showing him my profile and stuff, and the post where I wrote (Colleen Lowe)... wants to be a housewife. Fuck work. and he said, "really?" Yes, really. I want to keep the house clean and walk the dog and make good food and have a baby. "I would love that," he said, "But I don't think I can take on your student loan."
Oh yeah, that. When exactly does that MFA in writing come in handy, anyway?
So I work this insane job, and there I am at open house, "how is (insert name) doing? (said by parent)" "how's he doing in math?" "Is she reading better this year?" "Hows his behavior?" "He says he hates school. Why do you think that is?"
I have no freaking idea, I want to say. (Which clues me in that maybe I want to be a housewife more than I say in jest?) We're in our third week, I just learned all the names and you want to know how he's doing in math? Are you kidding? (and do I look like I care? Please, really, I hope that I do... I'm trying...)
"Well, I started with 26 kids this year and have some Special education students. We're really just starting to gel as a community, you know, it takes the first six weeks really to get routines going."
"My kid keeps asking me to be in a different class. He says he hates this class and he wants to stay home every day. Is that true? Should I switch him to another class?"
I'm tired. I've been in the building for 11 hours now.
"Mmm. Well, I think it's possible that he would be saying that no matter what class he's in. He really doesn't seem to like authority or following directions."
Oh, woops. Did I just smack you in the head? I'm sorry. It's been a long day.
But seriously.
You asked.
But didn't have that so much today... In fact the day was so long I can hardly remember it already.
Open house was good. More parents showed up than expected; many of my first graders (new kids) parents showed up - a lot of support and genuine respect and care. It was pretty great.
So I ask myself if I'm just cynical? ... mmm yeah I don't think so. I wish it were that simple.
It's hard. My husband just asked about my facebook page. I strolled him through it, showing him my profile and stuff, and the post where I wrote (Colleen Lowe)... wants to be a housewife. Fuck work. and he said, "really?" Yes, really. I want to keep the house clean and walk the dog and make good food and have a baby. "I would love that," he said, "But I don't think I can take on your student loan."
Oh yeah, that. When exactly does that MFA in writing come in handy, anyway?
So I work this insane job, and there I am at open house, "how is (insert name) doing? (said by parent)" "how's he doing in math?" "Is she reading better this year?" "Hows his behavior?" "He says he hates school. Why do you think that is?"
I have no freaking idea, I want to say. (Which clues me in that maybe I want to be a housewife more than I say in jest?) We're in our third week, I just learned all the names and you want to know how he's doing in math? Are you kidding? (and do I look like I care? Please, really, I hope that I do... I'm trying...)
"Well, I started with 26 kids this year and have some Special education students. We're really just starting to gel as a community, you know, it takes the first six weeks really to get routines going."
"My kid keeps asking me to be in a different class. He says he hates this class and he wants to stay home every day. Is that true? Should I switch him to another class?"
I'm tired. I've been in the building for 11 hours now.
"Mmm. Well, I think it's possible that he would be saying that no matter what class he's in. He really doesn't seem to like authority or following directions."
Oh, woops. Did I just smack you in the head? I'm sorry. It's been a long day.
But seriously.
You asked.
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
teachers don't get to be sick.
I would have stayed home if I had an office job. It's in my throat, under my eyes, in my head - breathing through my mouth since the nose won't do - and I can't leave my para with those kids alone - it's too soon, too early - and too crazy. So off I went.
Our morning gathering was going well then I had great plans for giving lessons and sending off children to work on new things. Alas, it wasn't to be. Instead the office called - E's mom was there, wanting to talk to me. "Are you sure she wants to talk to me? I'm not his teacher anymore."
"Well you better come down."
"I'm in the middle of my gathering, give me five minutes."
I tell my para guess what, you're doing the meeting this morning. And I left.
There she was, with nails painted just as fancy but in a maroon and black swirl. I bend down and say hello to E. he grunts. "Oh, you've got the tough guy on. Can I see my friend E? Look in my eyes."
He looks at me and almost smiles.
"How is your new class?"
He shrugs.
His new teacher shows up, says things are going okay, chat chat chat, waiting for a translator so the meeting can start, still not sure why I'm there. I decide I want to find a book so E. can read to me. I go in one of the "work rooms" where children are held. There is a child in there, but I hardly notice - I am on a mission for a book. Leafing through. I find a couple that are appropriate level for E and start back, only the child at the table is sniffling and crying.
"Ohhh... are you okay? ... My name is Ms. Lowe..."
He has a math assessment test in front of him. I start to guide him through the first question and realize he cannot read a word.
I stay with him for five minutes and help. He smiles at me.
I check outside and E and mom are gone. I tell this boy I need to go, and what classroom I'm in. "Come visit me any time." I tell him. "Just ask your teacher."
I go into the meeting. "Sorry I'm late."
They all look at me blankly. "You don't need to be here," I'm told.
Nice. Great. My class has been with my para for 20 minutes. I go back up and they are all busy working, doing busy work.
Why do I do this job. I could explain the details of disruption and lack of flow. Or trying to teach with an explosive head. And I could tell you about the new ell sped kid racing out of the room every ten minutes, and the ensuing chases.
My principal walks by later. She responds to the e mail I sent last week. "How's everything going?"
I tell her about the new kid, who I referred to in my e mail. She wants to meet him so I go get him and bring him back to her. She brings him back five minutes later.
"Wow. He's really .... Limited."
"uh, yeah. He is. And we spend half our day chasing him."
Don't get me started. Cuz then I would tell you about MD and A. I would tell you about how so out of my mind I got, how bad I felt physically, head pounding sinus's screaming, and the regrettable control freak I became wanting them to all just shut the hell up for one minute so I could think. I used to pride myself on patience and grace. Now I pride myself on surviving a day and beat myself up for all the wrong ways I handle things in a heated moment.
Why do I do this job. I don't want to do this job.
But then I worked with third graders, naming numbers into the hundred millions. Working on hierarchical categories of the decimal system. They were having a blast. I was having a blast. Or when I worked with Z and D, first graders, filling pages of addition facts. I was so enthusiastic, and they thought it was SO FUN. Math is fun, imagine that.
Ohhhhhh... help. I need to go to bed and it's only 5:15. And we haven't been shopping in a week and my husband is waiting for me.
If I wake up tomorrow feeling like hell you'd think I'd stay home, but it's open house night. All those parents (all those parents? I know better than that) coming to my classroom to meet me and I'm not there? Is this an option?
I thought this year would be easier than the last but so far it's not. At all.
Our morning gathering was going well then I had great plans for giving lessons and sending off children to work on new things. Alas, it wasn't to be. Instead the office called - E's mom was there, wanting to talk to me. "Are you sure she wants to talk to me? I'm not his teacher anymore."
"Well you better come down."
"I'm in the middle of my gathering, give me five minutes."
I tell my para guess what, you're doing the meeting this morning. And I left.
There she was, with nails painted just as fancy but in a maroon and black swirl. I bend down and say hello to E. he grunts. "Oh, you've got the tough guy on. Can I see my friend E? Look in my eyes."
He looks at me and almost smiles.
"How is your new class?"
He shrugs.
His new teacher shows up, says things are going okay, chat chat chat, waiting for a translator so the meeting can start, still not sure why I'm there. I decide I want to find a book so E. can read to me. I go in one of the "work rooms" where children are held. There is a child in there, but I hardly notice - I am on a mission for a book. Leafing through. I find a couple that are appropriate level for E and start back, only the child at the table is sniffling and crying.
"Ohhh... are you okay? ... My name is Ms. Lowe..."
He has a math assessment test in front of him. I start to guide him through the first question and realize he cannot read a word.
I stay with him for five minutes and help. He smiles at me.
I check outside and E and mom are gone. I tell this boy I need to go, and what classroom I'm in. "Come visit me any time." I tell him. "Just ask your teacher."
I go into the meeting. "Sorry I'm late."
They all look at me blankly. "You don't need to be here," I'm told.
Nice. Great. My class has been with my para for 20 minutes. I go back up and they are all busy working, doing busy work.
Why do I do this job. I could explain the details of disruption and lack of flow. Or trying to teach with an explosive head. And I could tell you about the new ell sped kid racing out of the room every ten minutes, and the ensuing chases.
My principal walks by later. She responds to the e mail I sent last week. "How's everything going?"
I tell her about the new kid, who I referred to in my e mail. She wants to meet him so I go get him and bring him back to her. She brings him back five minutes later.
"Wow. He's really .... Limited."
"uh, yeah. He is. And we spend half our day chasing him."
Don't get me started. Cuz then I would tell you about MD and A. I would tell you about how so out of my mind I got, how bad I felt physically, head pounding sinus's screaming, and the regrettable control freak I became wanting them to all just shut the hell up for one minute so I could think. I used to pride myself on patience and grace. Now I pride myself on surviving a day and beat myself up for all the wrong ways I handle things in a heated moment.
Why do I do this job. I don't want to do this job.
But then I worked with third graders, naming numbers into the hundred millions. Working on hierarchical categories of the decimal system. They were having a blast. I was having a blast. Or when I worked with Z and D, first graders, filling pages of addition facts. I was so enthusiastic, and they thought it was SO FUN. Math is fun, imagine that.
Ohhhhhh... help. I need to go to bed and it's only 5:15. And we haven't been shopping in a week and my husband is waiting for me.
If I wake up tomorrow feeling like hell you'd think I'd stay home, but it's open house night. All those parents (all those parents? I know better than that) coming to my classroom to meet me and I'm not there? Is this an option?
I thought this year would be easier than the last but so far it's not. At all.
Monday, September 14, 2009
monday night
Teacher's don't get a lot of time to do stuff for themselves, but I'm in a writing group and even though we meet late and I have to drive far, it's bliss to do something for myself...
And today was not so bad... Although it started with I. coming in crying that "some girl took his money." Immediately I'm thinking what? Some girl bullied you, took a few bucks, what are you talking about? But then Ms. W came to see me. She is on bus duty and the driver alerted her that this boy was counting cash. A lot of cash. Ms. W handed me over 200. bucks that was in I's pocket; she took it away as he was counting it while walking up the stairs to class. "I'll give it to your teacher," she said. "I promise." And she did.
"It was my birthday money."
I knew he had a birthday Saturday, and I didn't doubt for one second that it was his. It's just the kind of kid he is. Still, "I., really, you can't bring this much cash to school, you just can't." I called his parents to say it will be in an envelope and I will hand it to him before he goes home. In fact I put it in his bag right before he stepped on the bus.
Other than that, it was a pretty good day... Had to talk down A and M and MD, new ell sped MC, is really really hard... but nobody went off or stabbed another with a pencil...
It's a good day when nobody gets stabbed with a pencil or ends up in the "quiet room" aka solitary confinement... can't complain...
or wait a minute, maybe I can.... Stay tuned :) ...
And today was not so bad... Although it started with I. coming in crying that "some girl took his money." Immediately I'm thinking what? Some girl bullied you, took a few bucks, what are you talking about? But then Ms. W came to see me. She is on bus duty and the driver alerted her that this boy was counting cash. A lot of cash. Ms. W handed me over 200. bucks that was in I's pocket; she took it away as he was counting it while walking up the stairs to class. "I'll give it to your teacher," she said. "I promise." And she did.
"It was my birthday money."
I knew he had a birthday Saturday, and I didn't doubt for one second that it was his. It's just the kind of kid he is. Still, "I., really, you can't bring this much cash to school, you just can't." I called his parents to say it will be in an envelope and I will hand it to him before he goes home. In fact I put it in his bag right before he stepped on the bus.
Other than that, it was a pretty good day... Had to talk down A and M and MD, new ell sped MC, is really really hard... but nobody went off or stabbed another with a pencil...
It's a good day when nobody gets stabbed with a pencil or ends up in the "quiet room" aka solitary confinement... can't complain...
or wait a minute, maybe I can.... Stay tuned :) ...
Sunday, September 13, 2009
Sunday Night Fever
How does one get to be a teacher AND enjoy a weekend?
Great visit with family in New York. I wanted to leave at noon so I could get back and do lesson plans for the week, laundry, house maintenance, etc - of course we didn't leave til more like 4 -- stopped for food and didn't get home til after 8...
Teachers all know that the day goes WAAAAY better when you have a plan ... especially in the beginning of the year - especially a well thought out plan.
I raced through mine in five minutes and will re-visit it in the morning.
In my next life I want a job with no homework.
Great visit with family in New York. I wanted to leave at noon so I could get back and do lesson plans for the week, laundry, house maintenance, etc - of course we didn't leave til more like 4 -- stopped for food and didn't get home til after 8...
Teachers all know that the day goes WAAAAY better when you have a plan ... especially in the beginning of the year - especially a well thought out plan.
I raced through mine in five minutes and will re-visit it in the morning.
In my next life I want a job with no homework.
Friday, September 11, 2009
TGIF
E came to see me this morning. We emptied his cubby together and I walked him to his new class. He hugged me; "I'm sorry Ms. Lowe."
Wow. At least there was that.
Later I saw him run past my classroom about three times, the counselor walking behind asking if I'd seen him. I guess things are going just great. His para told me at the end of the day that he'd found a knife at the sink and was terrorizing kids with it. The teacher who left the knife later told me she can't believe she left it there. But who would think a kid would pick it up and be an asshole?
A wasn't in school today. I'm not sure if he was suspended after making that teacher bleed, or if his parents decided it might be a good idea to keep him home. In any case, class minus E and minus A was pretty smooth. It actually felt like a vacation, in a way.
MD was defiant about everything I asked, but still we managed to keep her in the classroom without flipping out. The new sped ell boy, MC... sheesh. My para is literally on him CONSTANTLY, which means that I'm basically alone with the other 23. It's Just Hard.
But I managed to give a lesson to first graders on odd and even numbers, and to another group on parts of a circle - I. was impressed. "Dang! I didn't know there were so many!" -- diameter, radius, circumference, arc, center, chord, segment, etc.... they made their own booklets.
And B turned 9 yesterday. B is a golden child. I had her last year too and she is always, always well behaved and patient, works really hard and is so smart. She's tall and thin, big wide smile, brown eyes and bangs with ponytails. Her parents are from Mexico and Guatemala. I saw the free lunch form she filled in and I knew they were broke, but I don't know how they survive on their income. I asked if she was having a party for her birthday and she shook her head, "No, I don't think so."
Today I stopped at a bakery on the way to work and bought her a cup cake. Such a simple gesture and she was so, so happy. I didn't care that the other kids were envious.
She wore a skirt today and at the end of the day, her legs crossed sitting in a gathering, one of my boys was pointing: "Ms. Lowe!! What's that on her legs? What is that?"
B was pulling her skirt down hard, covering her knees with their hands. I saw the warts.
"Beauty marks," I said.
"What?" J said.
"They're beauty marks," I said.
I., the coolest boy in my class piped in: "That's because she's beautiful."
I could have kissed him. I saw B's face beaming under a smile she was trying to hide.
And now I've left the building and I'm off to New York for the weekend... I haven't seen my family in a few months and I'm in high demand. My grandmother is nearly 90 and my father is not yet mobile himself, so I'm due.
It will be nice to see family, but it is a source of dread as well - a weekend is a precious thing to lose - in this business, or any business. Laundry, changing sheets, sweeping up the endless golden retriever dog hair... It all has to wait.
And lesson plans? God knows I need a few hours to work on them. I hope we can leave early on Sunday without offending anyone.
Wow. At least there was that.
Later I saw him run past my classroom about three times, the counselor walking behind asking if I'd seen him. I guess things are going just great. His para told me at the end of the day that he'd found a knife at the sink and was terrorizing kids with it. The teacher who left the knife later told me she can't believe she left it there. But who would think a kid would pick it up and be an asshole?
A wasn't in school today. I'm not sure if he was suspended after making that teacher bleed, or if his parents decided it might be a good idea to keep him home. In any case, class minus E and minus A was pretty smooth. It actually felt like a vacation, in a way.
MD was defiant about everything I asked, but still we managed to keep her in the classroom without flipping out. The new sped ell boy, MC... sheesh. My para is literally on him CONSTANTLY, which means that I'm basically alone with the other 23. It's Just Hard.
But I managed to give a lesson to first graders on odd and even numbers, and to another group on parts of a circle - I. was impressed. "Dang! I didn't know there were so many!" -- diameter, radius, circumference, arc, center, chord, segment, etc.... they made their own booklets.
And B turned 9 yesterday. B is a golden child. I had her last year too and she is always, always well behaved and patient, works really hard and is so smart. She's tall and thin, big wide smile, brown eyes and bangs with ponytails. Her parents are from Mexico and Guatemala. I saw the free lunch form she filled in and I knew they were broke, but I don't know how they survive on their income. I asked if she was having a party for her birthday and she shook her head, "No, I don't think so."
Today I stopped at a bakery on the way to work and bought her a cup cake. Such a simple gesture and she was so, so happy. I didn't care that the other kids were envious.
She wore a skirt today and at the end of the day, her legs crossed sitting in a gathering, one of my boys was pointing: "Ms. Lowe!! What's that on her legs? What is that?"
B was pulling her skirt down hard, covering her knees with their hands. I saw the warts.
"Beauty marks," I said.
"What?" J said.
"They're beauty marks," I said.
I., the coolest boy in my class piped in: "That's because she's beautiful."
I could have kissed him. I saw B's face beaming under a smile she was trying to hide.
And now I've left the building and I'm off to New York for the weekend... I haven't seen my family in a few months and I'm in high demand. My grandmother is nearly 90 and my father is not yet mobile himself, so I'm due.
It will be nice to see family, but it is a source of dread as well - a weekend is a precious thing to lose - in this business, or any business. Laundry, changing sheets, sweeping up the endless golden retriever dog hair... It all has to wait.
And lesson plans? God knows I need a few hours to work on them. I hope we can leave early on Sunday without offending anyone.
Thursday, September 10, 2009
My asst. principal called me in the middle of our class meeting this morning.
We've been going over Ten Truths in our Classroom, I think we're up to 6? There are statements like "We are here to share our gifts and work on our challenges." Or, "We are here to try new things." Today it was something about there will be no "teasing, bullying or put downs." The children were volunteering their thoughts about what this means, and how we can keep that statement true. I have some really great kids who say some really great things. Sometimes we write about the statements as well. It's supposed to set a tone.
She wanted me to come down because E's mother was down in the office and we were having an impromptu meeting about his behavior. I wasn't totally cool with leaving my para with 23 kids, but there wasn't much choice.
E's mother is a young Puerto Rican woman who speaks no english and has circles under her eyes. Her nails this morning were an inch long, painted in complex patterns of red blue and gold. Her nose and her mouth are exactly E's.
E was invited to wait outside the door. E's mother, two asst. principals, myself and the counselor were present. E's mother was told by translation exactly how he had been behaving, what he had been doing the past few days. He'd swore repeatedly at the counselor and the asst. principal, he wrote "fuck you" all over the papers on the principal's desk. After he kicked the counselor a few times, she took his shoes off and put him in the "quiet room" which, really, is like a rubber room. Solitary confinement. It is an room the size of a small office. The walls are sound proof. There is nothing in it. He allegedly kicked and banged his head against the wall quite a few times. Listening to this, and then in translation made me think about last year.
Once last May when E was turning over desks and jumping off chairs in the in school suspension room he was put in the "quiet room." I just happened to come check on him at that moment. He was crouched down in the corner with his hands over his face. I went over and put my hand on his head.
"Ms. Lowe, I don't know why I do this. Why do I do this, Ms. Lowe."
"I don't know, E. But I wish I could help you. I would do anything I could to help you, you know."
"I don't know why. Why do I do this."
Did I mention that despite the behavior, I am crazy about this kid?
The meeting went on longer than it should have, only because of all the translations going on from English to Spanish, Spanish to English.
E was diagnosed ADD and was on medication. I knew this last year, and it was always clear the days he came in forgetting his pill. That May day was probably one of them. Anyway this summer he went to Puerto Rico and missed counseling appointments, and after a few are missed, the state appointed psychologist drops the case.
"They won't schedule another one now for four months," our school counselor pointed out. "We'll have to wait until November."
Red tape. There are mountains of it.
I'm exhausted recounting this meeting. The bottom line is that E is being transferred to another class. His mother thinks my para is too rough with him. This was news to me. Frankly the story is more like this: E was giving my para too much information. We had to file reports. DSS showed up at their house. Mom came in spewing spitfire Spanish to my para and my para said something back that cut to the truth and too deeply into mom's dysfunctions. She has not liked her since.
So. He's going to another class. I'm so sorry, Ms. C ... Good luck... Maybe when he gets back on his medication...
"You're going to be in another class from now on," I told him.
"Really?" he squeaked.
"I'll miss you," I said.
Big brown eyes... He just kept looking at me... Did I mention that despite every little thing, I am crazy about this kid?
And then again... WHEW.
The Asst. principal told mom that he had to go home with her today. They left. I left a minute later, and watched them ahead of me walk down the long hall. And I watched his mother grab him by the ear and drag him.
Nice.
But admittedly, the day was so much better. Even when my new SPED ELL kid ran from the line, even when MD came in from recess and marched with her crayons and coloring book to a table when we were doing a read aloud (let her color. Fine.)... it was so much better.
And the asst. principal approached me about my letter and had already talked about moving E from my class. And the counselor wanted to know the names of all my HH kids, and when could I meet to talk about strategies for them. Thank God they heard me, and thank God they listened.
However, my dear A who has been doing so well apparently flipped a nutty at dismissal. On the line to the stairwell he turned around and shut out the kids behind him, locking the door closed. The dismissal escort called him out and they battled a silent war where A wouldn't budge. She took his arm and he dug his fingernails into her wrist until she bled.
They were in the hallway downstairs, I don't know how they got there, and his former foster mom was in the hallway, picking up her new foster kid. "Hey, I had that kid for 8 months!" she called out.
It went even more downhill from there.
Which means that tomorrow I don't know who I'll be getting... The A who's been trying hard and doing so well this week, or the one that fights everything and everyone, and fight or flight merge into one.
Is it just a matter of time? Is it just a matter of time that M goes off, or S starts scratching the crap out of her own face again, or screaming that she wants to die?
Today was a better day.
Today was a better day.
There is no point in projecting what tomorrow might bring.
Today was a better day.
I can't forget that.
Patchy blotchy broken writing tonight. I don't have it in me to be eloquent. I need some sleep.
We've been going over Ten Truths in our Classroom, I think we're up to 6? There are statements like "We are here to share our gifts and work on our challenges." Or, "We are here to try new things." Today it was something about there will be no "teasing, bullying or put downs." The children were volunteering their thoughts about what this means, and how we can keep that statement true. I have some really great kids who say some really great things. Sometimes we write about the statements as well. It's supposed to set a tone.
She wanted me to come down because E's mother was down in the office and we were having an impromptu meeting about his behavior. I wasn't totally cool with leaving my para with 23 kids, but there wasn't much choice.
E's mother is a young Puerto Rican woman who speaks no english and has circles under her eyes. Her nails this morning were an inch long, painted in complex patterns of red blue and gold. Her nose and her mouth are exactly E's.
E was invited to wait outside the door. E's mother, two asst. principals, myself and the counselor were present. E's mother was told by translation exactly how he had been behaving, what he had been doing the past few days. He'd swore repeatedly at the counselor and the asst. principal, he wrote "fuck you" all over the papers on the principal's desk. After he kicked the counselor a few times, she took his shoes off and put him in the "quiet room" which, really, is like a rubber room. Solitary confinement. It is an room the size of a small office. The walls are sound proof. There is nothing in it. He allegedly kicked and banged his head against the wall quite a few times. Listening to this, and then in translation made me think about last year.
Once last May when E was turning over desks and jumping off chairs in the in school suspension room he was put in the "quiet room." I just happened to come check on him at that moment. He was crouched down in the corner with his hands over his face. I went over and put my hand on his head.
"Ms. Lowe, I don't know why I do this. Why do I do this, Ms. Lowe."
"I don't know, E. But I wish I could help you. I would do anything I could to help you, you know."
"I don't know why. Why do I do this."
Did I mention that despite the behavior, I am crazy about this kid?
The meeting went on longer than it should have, only because of all the translations going on from English to Spanish, Spanish to English.
E was diagnosed ADD and was on medication. I knew this last year, and it was always clear the days he came in forgetting his pill. That May day was probably one of them. Anyway this summer he went to Puerto Rico and missed counseling appointments, and after a few are missed, the state appointed psychologist drops the case.
"They won't schedule another one now for four months," our school counselor pointed out. "We'll have to wait until November."
Red tape. There are mountains of it.
I'm exhausted recounting this meeting. The bottom line is that E is being transferred to another class. His mother thinks my para is too rough with him. This was news to me. Frankly the story is more like this: E was giving my para too much information. We had to file reports. DSS showed up at their house. Mom came in spewing spitfire Spanish to my para and my para said something back that cut to the truth and too deeply into mom's dysfunctions. She has not liked her since.
So. He's going to another class. I'm so sorry, Ms. C ... Good luck... Maybe when he gets back on his medication...
"You're going to be in another class from now on," I told him.
"Really?" he squeaked.
"I'll miss you," I said.
Big brown eyes... He just kept looking at me... Did I mention that despite every little thing, I am crazy about this kid?
And then again... WHEW.
The Asst. principal told mom that he had to go home with her today. They left. I left a minute later, and watched them ahead of me walk down the long hall. And I watched his mother grab him by the ear and drag him.
Nice.
But admittedly, the day was so much better. Even when my new SPED ELL kid ran from the line, even when MD came in from recess and marched with her crayons and coloring book to a table when we were doing a read aloud (let her color. Fine.)... it was so much better.
And the asst. principal approached me about my letter and had already talked about moving E from my class. And the counselor wanted to know the names of all my HH kids, and when could I meet to talk about strategies for them. Thank God they heard me, and thank God they listened.
However, my dear A who has been doing so well apparently flipped a nutty at dismissal. On the line to the stairwell he turned around and shut out the kids behind him, locking the door closed. The dismissal escort called him out and they battled a silent war where A wouldn't budge. She took his arm and he dug his fingernails into her wrist until she bled.
They were in the hallway downstairs, I don't know how they got there, and his former foster mom was in the hallway, picking up her new foster kid. "Hey, I had that kid for 8 months!" she called out.
It went even more downhill from there.
Which means that tomorrow I don't know who I'll be getting... The A who's been trying hard and doing so well this week, or the one that fights everything and everyone, and fight or flight merge into one.
Is it just a matter of time? Is it just a matter of time that M goes off, or S starts scratching the crap out of her own face again, or screaming that she wants to die?
Today was a better day.
Today was a better day.
There is no point in projecting what tomorrow might bring.
Today was a better day.
I can't forget that.
Patchy blotchy broken writing tonight. I don't have it in me to be eloquent. I need some sleep.
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
I'm not happy.
E, of course, spent the day at the principal's, again. He ran from my class with his backpack, down the stairs, down the hall, where I followed him, yelling to a teacher down the hall to please grab him, which she did. We dragged him to the principals office, where he said to her "I hate fuckin school."
"oh, naughty words," she said.
"Shut up," he told her.
I don't need to explain anything to my asst. principal at this point. I leave and go back to my class.
I'm too exhausted to write. I'm too burnt, spent, fried and crispy after one week.
I didn't know what to do after school. I could barely stand to be in my classroom. Instead I went to the teacher's lounge and on the computer there, composed an e mail addressed to the two asst. principals, the principal, two counselors, and the montessori mentor. Here is that letter:
Hello everyone,
I'm starting the year with 26 children in my class, 5 of whom are afore known "heavy hitters," shall we say. ER has been in Ms. Ross' room the last three days for behavior issues that have tipped the scales, AL has run from the playground into the parking lot and although contained, it seems, lately, I am aware of the ticking bomb energy and the minor explosions I am so far able to deal with. Today he repeatedly slammed a rope from seasons work on the table making sharp thwacks, despite my asking him to stop. I have to pick my battles. When came an opportunity to take the rope from him, I did, but not without my nerves clanging that someone was going to get hurt. MJ, another of the HH clan aka "heavy hitters" whom I inherited from another class, has already left my class several times with a backpack on her back, threatening to walk out the front door. She has also visited with Ms. Ross due to total non-cooperation in science class. She screams and squeals repeatedly on line, and does not necessarily follow instructions in the classroom. SA, who is fortunately with Ms.H the SPED teacher for part of the time, has already begun familiar behaviors, clawing her face, insisting "nobody likes me!", and picking cat fights with other girls and threatening her friends with promises of betrayal. SO is another child who I've inherited from another class, who has been on behavior survellience and has a challenging time focusing as well. And then I have a new child, MA, who has been in the states for exactly 2 weeks, does not speak a word of English, is a SPED student and exhibits some behaviors such as an ADD child would. My para spends most of her time chasing him around, as at least she speaks his language. Last year I was more able to help these children of HH status because the numbers in my room allowed me the little extra time to spend giving personal attention. Perhaps as the new year settles and the new children settle as well, time will again become available. We shall see.
I consider myself to be a pretty adept teacher, and though my head is above water at the moment, I fear that I will begin drowning if I do not reach out for some help with my situation. I know that every class in this building has it's own particular challenges, and I like to think that I can not only survive but excel on my own. However, at the moment I have not much else but exhaustion and aprehension. With all due respect and regard, Colleen Lowe
I don't know what else to do.
E, of course, spent the day at the principal's, again. He ran from my class with his backpack, down the stairs, down the hall, where I followed him, yelling to a teacher down the hall to please grab him, which she did. We dragged him to the principals office, where he said to her "I hate fuckin school."
"oh, naughty words," she said.
"Shut up," he told her.
I don't need to explain anything to my asst. principal at this point. I leave and go back to my class.
I'm too exhausted to write. I'm too burnt, spent, fried and crispy after one week.
I didn't know what to do after school. I could barely stand to be in my classroom. Instead I went to the teacher's lounge and on the computer there, composed an e mail addressed to the two asst. principals, the principal, two counselors, and the montessori mentor. Here is that letter:
Hello everyone,
I'm starting the year with 26 children in my class, 5 of whom are afore known "heavy hitters," shall we say. ER has been in Ms. Ross' room the last three days for behavior issues that have tipped the scales, AL has run from the playground into the parking lot and although contained, it seems, lately, I am aware of the ticking bomb energy and the minor explosions I am so far able to deal with. Today he repeatedly slammed a rope from seasons work on the table making sharp thwacks, despite my asking him to stop. I have to pick my battles. When came an opportunity to take the rope from him, I did, but not without my nerves clanging that someone was going to get hurt. MJ, another of the HH clan aka "heavy hitters" whom I inherited from another class, has already left my class several times with a backpack on her back, threatening to walk out the front door. She has also visited with Ms. Ross due to total non-cooperation in science class. She screams and squeals repeatedly on line, and does not necessarily follow instructions in the classroom. SA, who is fortunately with Ms.H the SPED teacher for part of the time, has already begun familiar behaviors, clawing her face, insisting "nobody likes me!", and picking cat fights with other girls and threatening her friends with promises of betrayal. SO is another child who I've inherited from another class, who has been on behavior survellience and has a challenging time focusing as well. And then I have a new child, MA, who has been in the states for exactly 2 weeks, does not speak a word of English, is a SPED student and exhibits some behaviors such as an ADD child would. My para spends most of her time chasing him around, as at least she speaks his language. Last year I was more able to help these children of HH status because the numbers in my room allowed me the little extra time to spend giving personal attention. Perhaps as the new year settles and the new children settle as well, time will again become available. We shall see.
I consider myself to be a pretty adept teacher, and though my head is above water at the moment, I fear that I will begin drowning if I do not reach out for some help with my situation. I know that every class in this building has it's own particular challenges, and I like to think that I can not only survive but excel on my own. However, at the moment I have not much else but exhaustion and aprehension. With all due respect and regard, Colleen Lowe
I don't know what else to do.
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
tuesday, post labor day...
It was a relief when there were only 18 children in the gathering. Then a couple more came. Then more, until 25 out of 26 children arrived. We sang for awhile, and they mostly all sing except for a couple too cool for school third graders. But I even catch them mouthing the words after awhile. Singing is great - always a mood lifter, a community builder, and downright fun.
The day, overall though? Not entirely fun.
Obama spoke today. I had no idea if our school would be participating or not; hadn't heard anything. That is, until about 10:45 when my pod mate came to tell me we were going downstairs to eat lunch RIGHT NOW instead of at our regular 11:40 so we could come back and watch Obama. Grrreat. Love the notice. Shuffle we go to the cafeteria, down two flights of concrete stairs.
E was acting up. "Obama sucks!" he was yelling. And, "I don't care about the president! I don't want to watch him!" He was being a little shit. The VP was downstairs, the one who told me I couldn't bring him to her office unless it was a last resort. So I brought her attention to E (he was hard to miss by this time); I told her that he was not listening and was out of control. She said "He'll eat alone. I'll take care of him." He was with me when she said that. His head went down, but only for a second as he processed this. Then he looked up and shouted "YIPPPEEEE!!!"
He reminds me of that commercial, "never let em' see you sweat." It doesn't matter what the situation is; he will be adverse to whatever it is, period. He is a pain in my ass.
By the end of last year I was able to spend time with him, re-direct, read with him, get him feeling good about what he knows and what he can do. This year, ten new first graders, A and M and the new boy who is Sped and Spanish and touches ev-ree-thing constantly (UGGGGG), I don't have time - I don't have time to give personal time - and I want to say "yet" and I hope I can say "yet" and I hope that "yet" comes...
When we were back in the classroom and Obama's speech was about to begin, E was yelling his head off about how Obama sucks and he doesn't care and he doesn't want to watch his stupid speech. "Fine." I said. "You can hang out with the principal."
NOOO!!! he wails.
He flopped down in the middle of the hallway.
Lo and behold, there was my VP, walking my direction.
"Just the person I was hoping to see."
He stayed with her nearly the rest of the day, and allegedly spent his time writing "fuck you" on papers on her desk. Yes, he is one charming kid. And still, I adore him even though I'd love to throw him at times.
My para called his mother twice (she only speaks Spanish) but one of the phone numbers was disconnected (typical) and the other number, nobody answered.
Meantime, MD, the girl I worry about, and with good reason, had her own meltdown. We were leaving for lunch and she wanted to bring her coloring book and crayons. I said no. She said "Fine, then I'm going home." She got her jacket, backpack, and headed for the stairwell. By then I was back in my pod, herding children to get ready for this impromptu early lunch that had already started. Another teacher found her headed down the stairwell and out the door and brought her back.
Like I have time for this?
Later after lunch, after speech, during Science class (my prep time), she was refusing to listen to the teacher there and was sent, also, to the principal, where she joined E for the afternoon.
"Please don't go off, A." I chanted this in my head. "Please don't go off."
For the most part, A did alright. At least there was that.
But after science when it was time to go outside for recess and the principal wanted my para to stay in her office b/c E and M were there and she needed her to call the parents since she spoke Spanish - no way in hell was I taking the other 23 children outside by myself after A had already bolted once before and I have ten kids I've barely known a week and thanks for blowing my plans, VP. So I took them back to the classroom, down the long hallway and up a flight of stairs. I read a new chapter of Charlotte's web. Things were fine, but I was spinning.
I didn't mention the lesson I gave to the first graders in the morning. Figured we'd start simple and talk about the seasons - spring, summer, fall, winter. Talked about them all at length. "So what season is it when it's freezing out and snow is on the ground?" One of my new boys raised his hand. "Summer?"
Holy crap, you're kidding me, right?
So I'm spinning. And I'm thinking, 26 kids to start. Three that are already on a first name basis with the new Vice Principal. Six incident reports in my file already. Simple freaking lesson on seasons that didn't get through. Are you kidding me? This is what I'm working with? What am I doing? How am I going to do this? How did I do this last year? And even though there are 18 perfectly obedient kids, sitting with their hands in their laps, waiting for me to give some direction or thought or song, I can't stop spinning. My energy is peaked, and I know it, and I can't stop it, and I can't leave and go take some breaths, and I feel trapped, and I feel scared, and I feel like this job is hopeless... and I take a breath and one by one, invite them to line up to go outside for recess.
And then we come in and I invite them to go back to what they were working on and there are children studying fossils, there are children doing math work, there are children studying planets, there are children designing their own calendars, there are children writing booklets about the history behind the names of the days of the weeks, there are children working with the hundreds board, and there is a child painting.
There are small miracles happening. There they are, in front of me. There are engaged children, filling up their notebooks after one week of school, excited about learning, about discovery. Yet I forget to see this. I forget to see this until now, until I am home and I've had my dinner and I look back.
It's time to clean up and I remind everyone to look at the job chart, and children begin fixing the library, sharpening pencils, wiping off tables, putting up chairs, sweeping up pencil shavings. We line up for dismissal, and the school day is over. For the children, anyway.
And then we have a staff meeting, like we do every Monday, only it's Tuesday. And there are I don't know, a hundred teachers in the gallery, and we are being schooled on the standards nobody met last year, how we are accountable for our lesson plans and frameworks, how if children do not come to school we need to call parents and find out why, and blah procedure this and blah MCAS that and blah and blah and blah.
And by now I am once again feeling so overwhelmed I just want to run. I want to get up and run across the room and out the door and say you know what? Somebody else do this stupid job.
But I don't. I stay.
And I make the 45 minute drive home which today was more like a hour because of traffic and I take a walk with my husband and my dog before the sun goes down and I marvel at the sick oak tree he cut down yesterday that I hadn't seen yet and I look in the garden to see if anything is edible among the weeds and my neglect. I find some tomatoes, two pepper and a cucumber. We go inside and Chris takes chicken off the grill. I make a salad. We eat. The sun goes down. I get on the computer to write. It's 7:30 and I want to go to bed, but I need to plan for tomorrow.
And I love my job, and I hate my job, and I love my job, and I hate my job, and it's just another day, and it's only the beginning and I wish to God I knew what I was doing, but I don't. Not really.
THink about what is good, I tell myself. Think about what is good, I tell myself. And there is BE and A and B and G and I and J... there is Z and C and D. They are there, overshadowed by the five that consume my attention. They are there, living the same adversities as the others only finding that good in themselves and sticking with it. And I think of them now, the ones that really do work hard, and sing, and help each other, and don't get the attention they deserve because of all the other factors (i.e. children).
I will go back tomorrow and I will try again. And I will try again, and again and again.
I will do the best I can, despite the test scores and frameworks and standards.
I can only do the best that I can.
The day, overall though? Not entirely fun.
Obama spoke today. I had no idea if our school would be participating or not; hadn't heard anything. That is, until about 10:45 when my pod mate came to tell me we were going downstairs to eat lunch RIGHT NOW instead of at our regular 11:40 so we could come back and watch Obama. Grrreat. Love the notice. Shuffle we go to the cafeteria, down two flights of concrete stairs.
E was acting up. "Obama sucks!" he was yelling. And, "I don't care about the president! I don't want to watch him!" He was being a little shit. The VP was downstairs, the one who told me I couldn't bring him to her office unless it was a last resort. So I brought her attention to E (he was hard to miss by this time); I told her that he was not listening and was out of control. She said "He'll eat alone. I'll take care of him." He was with me when she said that. His head went down, but only for a second as he processed this. Then he looked up and shouted "YIPPPEEEE!!!"
He reminds me of that commercial, "never let em' see you sweat." It doesn't matter what the situation is; he will be adverse to whatever it is, period. He is a pain in my ass.
By the end of last year I was able to spend time with him, re-direct, read with him, get him feeling good about what he knows and what he can do. This year, ten new first graders, A and M and the new boy who is Sped and Spanish and touches ev-ree-thing constantly (UGGGGG), I don't have time - I don't have time to give personal time - and I want to say "yet" and I hope I can say "yet" and I hope that "yet" comes...
When we were back in the classroom and Obama's speech was about to begin, E was yelling his head off about how Obama sucks and he doesn't care and he doesn't want to watch his stupid speech. "Fine." I said. "You can hang out with the principal."
NOOO!!! he wails.
He flopped down in the middle of the hallway.
Lo and behold, there was my VP, walking my direction.
"Just the person I was hoping to see."
He stayed with her nearly the rest of the day, and allegedly spent his time writing "fuck you" on papers on her desk. Yes, he is one charming kid. And still, I adore him even though I'd love to throw him at times.
My para called his mother twice (she only speaks Spanish) but one of the phone numbers was disconnected (typical) and the other number, nobody answered.
Meantime, MD, the girl I worry about, and with good reason, had her own meltdown. We were leaving for lunch and she wanted to bring her coloring book and crayons. I said no. She said "Fine, then I'm going home." She got her jacket, backpack, and headed for the stairwell. By then I was back in my pod, herding children to get ready for this impromptu early lunch that had already started. Another teacher found her headed down the stairwell and out the door and brought her back.
Like I have time for this?
Later after lunch, after speech, during Science class (my prep time), she was refusing to listen to the teacher there and was sent, also, to the principal, where she joined E for the afternoon.
"Please don't go off, A." I chanted this in my head. "Please don't go off."
For the most part, A did alright. At least there was that.
But after science when it was time to go outside for recess and the principal wanted my para to stay in her office b/c E and M were there and she needed her to call the parents since she spoke Spanish - no way in hell was I taking the other 23 children outside by myself after A had already bolted once before and I have ten kids I've barely known a week and thanks for blowing my plans, VP. So I took them back to the classroom, down the long hallway and up a flight of stairs. I read a new chapter of Charlotte's web. Things were fine, but I was spinning.
I didn't mention the lesson I gave to the first graders in the morning. Figured we'd start simple and talk about the seasons - spring, summer, fall, winter. Talked about them all at length. "So what season is it when it's freezing out and snow is on the ground?" One of my new boys raised his hand. "Summer?"
Holy crap, you're kidding me, right?
So I'm spinning. And I'm thinking, 26 kids to start. Three that are already on a first name basis with the new Vice Principal. Six incident reports in my file already. Simple freaking lesson on seasons that didn't get through. Are you kidding me? This is what I'm working with? What am I doing? How am I going to do this? How did I do this last year? And even though there are 18 perfectly obedient kids, sitting with their hands in their laps, waiting for me to give some direction or thought or song, I can't stop spinning. My energy is peaked, and I know it, and I can't stop it, and I can't leave and go take some breaths, and I feel trapped, and I feel scared, and I feel like this job is hopeless... and I take a breath and one by one, invite them to line up to go outside for recess.
And then we come in and I invite them to go back to what they were working on and there are children studying fossils, there are children doing math work, there are children studying planets, there are children designing their own calendars, there are children writing booklets about the history behind the names of the days of the weeks, there are children working with the hundreds board, and there is a child painting.
There are small miracles happening. There they are, in front of me. There are engaged children, filling up their notebooks after one week of school, excited about learning, about discovery. Yet I forget to see this. I forget to see this until now, until I am home and I've had my dinner and I look back.
It's time to clean up and I remind everyone to look at the job chart, and children begin fixing the library, sharpening pencils, wiping off tables, putting up chairs, sweeping up pencil shavings. We line up for dismissal, and the school day is over. For the children, anyway.
And then we have a staff meeting, like we do every Monday, only it's Tuesday. And there are I don't know, a hundred teachers in the gallery, and we are being schooled on the standards nobody met last year, how we are accountable for our lesson plans and frameworks, how if children do not come to school we need to call parents and find out why, and blah procedure this and blah MCAS that and blah and blah and blah.
And by now I am once again feeling so overwhelmed I just want to run. I want to get up and run across the room and out the door and say you know what? Somebody else do this stupid job.
But I don't. I stay.
And I make the 45 minute drive home which today was more like a hour because of traffic and I take a walk with my husband and my dog before the sun goes down and I marvel at the sick oak tree he cut down yesterday that I hadn't seen yet and I look in the garden to see if anything is edible among the weeds and my neglect. I find some tomatoes, two pepper and a cucumber. We go inside and Chris takes chicken off the grill. I make a salad. We eat. The sun goes down. I get on the computer to write. It's 7:30 and I want to go to bed, but I need to plan for tomorrow.
And I love my job, and I hate my job, and I love my job, and I hate my job, and it's just another day, and it's only the beginning and I wish to God I knew what I was doing, but I don't. Not really.
THink about what is good, I tell myself. Think about what is good, I tell myself. And there is BE and A and B and G and I and J... there is Z and C and D. They are there, overshadowed by the five that consume my attention. They are there, living the same adversities as the others only finding that good in themselves and sticking with it. And I think of them now, the ones that really do work hard, and sing, and help each other, and don't get the attention they deserve because of all the other factors (i.e. children).
I will go back tomorrow and I will try again. And I will try again, and again and again.
I will do the best I can, despite the test scores and frameworks and standards.
I can only do the best that I can.
Monday, September 7, 2009
Labor Day
Teacher's really don't get time off. Even if we're not with the children, we're thinking about them. Even if we're not lesson planning, we're thinking about it. And even when we have no money, we're shopping for the classroom.
There's stuff I need that school doesn't provide. We got all this great nomenclature material from plant biology to animal classification to geometry terms, but nowhere to put it - I mean, no containers. So I went to Walmart today. Ten bucks on baskets. Also, we need to have plants in the classroom - for the beauty, for the leaf shapes, for the care of - so I bought a couple plants. Fifteen bucks. Snack. Haven't received any donations from parents yet, better buy some pretzels. Ah, and folders - only 25 cents a pop ... 26 kids, letsee, homework folders, writing folders... I counted out 26 two times... wait a minute, that's another 13 bucks.
I put the folders back. Enough is enough.
I don't mean to complain about all aspects of my job... there are plenty of good ones. There is the little boy on Friday, the new first grader, who was just so whooped after a full week of school, walking back down long halls after recess.
"Ms. Lowe? Can I hold your hand? And when we get back to the classroom, can I sit next to you?"
"Of course." I take his hand immediately. And when we get back to the classroom, I make space for him next to me. (I fall in love over and over and over and over).
There is plenty of good, and I'll be writing about that, too. There are moments of such overwhelming love and pride. There is so much hope and celebration. And when we sing or play a game or crack jokes, there is pure joy.
Still, I have the Sunday night blues, only it's Monday. I have the Monday night blues. It was such a stunning weekend - my husband and I went to the mountains yesterday and hiked long and hard. At the top there was a ledge where para gliders and hang gliders were jumping off and floating, colorful birds floating above us all over. Beautiful. We went out for dinner. We held hands on the way home in the car.
I wanted some recreation and I got it. I also wanted to clean out the closet, re-arrange furniture in our bedroom, tackle the laundry, shop for the classroom and work on lesson plans. I got to the laundry and I got to the shopping. I got to the spring for water, and I got to the farm for veggies and eggs. And now it's nearly over.
When I was little I'd get a fever nearly every Sunday night. We called it "Sunday night fever." I would physically manifest a fever. I don't do that anymore, but the dread feels the same. And then, I know, I get to school, I switch gears, and I work. And it's fine. But looking at Tuesday morning from the view of the end of a three day weekend, stunning weather and not enough time...
Boo.
There's stuff I need that school doesn't provide. We got all this great nomenclature material from plant biology to animal classification to geometry terms, but nowhere to put it - I mean, no containers. So I went to Walmart today. Ten bucks on baskets. Also, we need to have plants in the classroom - for the beauty, for the leaf shapes, for the care of - so I bought a couple plants. Fifteen bucks. Snack. Haven't received any donations from parents yet, better buy some pretzels. Ah, and folders - only 25 cents a pop ... 26 kids, letsee, homework folders, writing folders... I counted out 26 two times... wait a minute, that's another 13 bucks.
I put the folders back. Enough is enough.
I don't mean to complain about all aspects of my job... there are plenty of good ones. There is the little boy on Friday, the new first grader, who was just so whooped after a full week of school, walking back down long halls after recess.
"Ms. Lowe? Can I hold your hand? And when we get back to the classroom, can I sit next to you?"
"Of course." I take his hand immediately. And when we get back to the classroom, I make space for him next to me. (I fall in love over and over and over and over).
There is plenty of good, and I'll be writing about that, too. There are moments of such overwhelming love and pride. There is so much hope and celebration. And when we sing or play a game or crack jokes, there is pure joy.
Still, I have the Sunday night blues, only it's Monday. I have the Monday night blues. It was such a stunning weekend - my husband and I went to the mountains yesterday and hiked long and hard. At the top there was a ledge where para gliders and hang gliders were jumping off and floating, colorful birds floating above us all over. Beautiful. We went out for dinner. We held hands on the way home in the car.
I wanted some recreation and I got it. I also wanted to clean out the closet, re-arrange furniture in our bedroom, tackle the laundry, shop for the classroom and work on lesson plans. I got to the laundry and I got to the shopping. I got to the spring for water, and I got to the farm for veggies and eggs. And now it's nearly over.
When I was little I'd get a fever nearly every Sunday night. We called it "Sunday night fever." I would physically manifest a fever. I don't do that anymore, but the dread feels the same. And then, I know, I get to school, I switch gears, and I work. And it's fine. But looking at Tuesday morning from the view of the end of a three day weekend, stunning weather and not enough time...
Boo.
Friday, September 4, 2009
day 5 - tgif
My feet hurt. I should know better - somehow wood based clogs that I used to live in don't feel that good anymore after clomping in a school the size of a shopping mall. Imagine having to walk from Macy's to JC Penney's for recess, plus two flights of cement stairwells. School policy is that all the children walk silently with their hands behind their backs. Some of my first graders are tiny: imagine having to walk with your hands behind your back when you are 4 feet tall? Who made up this policy? If one of the principals is in the hallway and the children are not silent or have their hands behind their backs, they will be barked at. It's already happened to my class twice.
Poor things.
I'm all for quiet and order, but holy moly. So there I am, barking dutifully in the basement level tunnel that goes under the highway connecting one shit part of town to another. They built this place in the 70's when community buildings were all the rage. No walls, let the community in, rah rah rah. The floors are like supermarkets I used to go to with my mother - they haven't changed since the 70's: White tile except for of every other single tile a different color; red, blue, yellow, green. I tell the leader to count ten red tiles (every fourth, or, including the white tiles, every eighth one). They stop, and then I might say seven blue tiles. Then maybe 8 green tiles. Yes, I'm telling you, the walk is that long.
And one side of the hallway by the steps that go up (yes, more steps) and out the doors to the "playground" (teacher's pick of a dirty grassy area; don't forget to check for needles) the floor has a permanent puddle, it seems. Stained brown filmy nasty puddle. We don't walk on that side. If you look overhead or in the corners, ceilings are crumbling and paint is buckled and chipping off. When it rains, there are buckets dispersed in about 8 different areas that I can think of , with the folded plastic yellow "caution: wet floor" signs in front of them.
By the way, there is no play structure, if that didn't get across. No swing, no slide, no nothing - but the new asst. principal says we should have balls and jump ropes and things for them to play with. I went to my new asst. principal: I would love to fork over 60. bucks for playground activities, but I'm not going to.
Oh, no, she says. You don't have to do that. Get balls from the gym teachers.
Right. Except that gym teachers are in the middle of class when we go outside.
Oh, well. Just a detail.
By the way, the volcano was awesome today - told my "Great Story" Montessori style - creation of the universe - kids agape, totally into it, watched their brains reeling while I ranted on enthusiastically about how light could travel around the WHOLE EARTH SEVEN TIMES IN ONE SECOND!!! Isn't that AMAZING? And can you believe the earth is just a TINY SPECK when you compare it to THE SUN???
... actually, it was pretty exciting... the kids loved it... more experiments to come...
I'm happy to report also that E and A made it through their day... the both were a bit wobbly, a few times, but somehow pulled it together and didn't fall down... A did a drawing of football players and wrote a caption "THE STEELERS ARE WINNING!" and a drawing of a basketball game that said - I can't remember - but SOMEBODY beat the CELTICS ... I guess he's not a Boston fan... He was starting to stew at the end of the day, the fists were clenched, the eyes were furrowed and I said "...And A did AMAZING drawings today of football and basketball, which I would LOVE to share with the class if he'll give me permission!" ...
I watched his face soften and his mouth almost break into a smile...
It was M, however, that I was worried about today. The last month of school last year, her teacher had so had enough of her was ready to have a mental breakdown. That teacher had a real tough class. We all do, really, but M was her last straw. I remember this teacher writing an incident report about one of her students (turned out it was M) and just crying and crying .. so defeated.. so DONE with this little girl...
The principal decided at that point that she should be in MY class.
One day she showed up with an asst. principal. "Ms. Lowe, I think M would be a good fit in your classroom. Can she be with you for awhile?"
Beautiful girl. Brown skin and green, green eyes. Really, the girl is gorgeous. "Sure!" I said. "Nice to meet you! C'mon and meet the children!" etc. I recieved no history on the girl, no information (this was deliberate), but I knew instinctively that she needed love, and she needed it bad. So Ms. N, my para, and I, poured it on. And for the last month of school, we had not one problem with her.
Turns out she's on all kinds of behavior surveillance, suspected "ODD" (oppositional defiance disorder), therapists and counselors and hullaballo...
Ug. Need I go on. I'm seeing it now. Cat fights with other girls. Refusing to budge. Beautiful girl who wants what she wants, when she wants it, how she wants it, period. ... Last year after I'd had her for only a couple weeks I'd met her father. "Hey! My name is Ms. Lowe, M's been hanging out in my class for the past while. She's doing great! It's so nice to meet you!"
He didn't even look at me.
"C'mon M, let's go," he said.
Wow. Okay, then. Right. See you.
A week later I chanced upon her mother.
"Nice to meet you, I'm Ms. Lowe, M's teacher!"
She barely glanced at me.
Right. Okay, then. See you.
Oppositional defiance disorder? Or maybe ... maybe... something else?
I don't dare criticize the parents. I mean, I'd love to, of course. I'd love to say what fucking SHITTY parents you are, my God, keep your fucking hands off these kids. Pay attention to your kids. What the FUCK do you think you're doing? ... but I don't. I can't. I won't. I do believe, though sometimes I waver, that parents really do the best they can do with their kids, to the best of their ability. T's mom is a crack head, so the best of her ability fucking SUCKS, which is why she lives with her Grandma. But T still talks about her mother as if she is an angel, and when I met her mother for a conference, it was clear that she loved the crap out of her daughter, but just had No Clue - how to be a mother, or how to be herself. How can I criticize? I would love to, but how can I? And how can I explain this conviction? As compassionate as I am for the kids, I'm as compassionate for the parents... I can't help it... and I wasn't always this way...
Who could you possibly love more than your own child? And how terrible would it feel to have no idea how to love your child, who you want to love more than anyone? How much pain would one have to be in? So much. Too much.
But this cycle. Too much. How does it stop?
Poor things.
I'm all for quiet and order, but holy moly. So there I am, barking dutifully in the basement level tunnel that goes under the highway connecting one shit part of town to another. They built this place in the 70's when community buildings were all the rage. No walls, let the community in, rah rah rah. The floors are like supermarkets I used to go to with my mother - they haven't changed since the 70's: White tile except for of every other single tile a different color; red, blue, yellow, green. I tell the leader to count ten red tiles (every fourth, or, including the white tiles, every eighth one). They stop, and then I might say seven blue tiles. Then maybe 8 green tiles. Yes, I'm telling you, the walk is that long.
And one side of the hallway by the steps that go up (yes, more steps) and out the doors to the "playground" (teacher's pick of a dirty grassy area; don't forget to check for needles) the floor has a permanent puddle, it seems. Stained brown filmy nasty puddle. We don't walk on that side. If you look overhead or in the corners, ceilings are crumbling and paint is buckled and chipping off. When it rains, there are buckets dispersed in about 8 different areas that I can think of , with the folded plastic yellow "caution: wet floor" signs in front of them.
By the way, there is no play structure, if that didn't get across. No swing, no slide, no nothing - but the new asst. principal says we should have balls and jump ropes and things for them to play with. I went to my new asst. principal: I would love to fork over 60. bucks for playground activities, but I'm not going to.
Oh, no, she says. You don't have to do that. Get balls from the gym teachers.
Right. Except that gym teachers are in the middle of class when we go outside.
Oh, well. Just a detail.
By the way, the volcano was awesome today - told my "Great Story" Montessori style - creation of the universe - kids agape, totally into it, watched their brains reeling while I ranted on enthusiastically about how light could travel around the WHOLE EARTH SEVEN TIMES IN ONE SECOND!!! Isn't that AMAZING? And can you believe the earth is just a TINY SPECK when you compare it to THE SUN???
... actually, it was pretty exciting... the kids loved it... more experiments to come...
I'm happy to report also that E and A made it through their day... the both were a bit wobbly, a few times, but somehow pulled it together and didn't fall down... A did a drawing of football players and wrote a caption "THE STEELERS ARE WINNING!" and a drawing of a basketball game that said - I can't remember - but SOMEBODY beat the CELTICS ... I guess he's not a Boston fan... He was starting to stew at the end of the day, the fists were clenched, the eyes were furrowed and I said "...And A did AMAZING drawings today of football and basketball, which I would LOVE to share with the class if he'll give me permission!" ...
I watched his face soften and his mouth almost break into a smile...
It was M, however, that I was worried about today. The last month of school last year, her teacher had so had enough of her was ready to have a mental breakdown. That teacher had a real tough class. We all do, really, but M was her last straw. I remember this teacher writing an incident report about one of her students (turned out it was M) and just crying and crying .. so defeated.. so DONE with this little girl...
The principal decided at that point that she should be in MY class.
One day she showed up with an asst. principal. "Ms. Lowe, I think M would be a good fit in your classroom. Can she be with you for awhile?"
Beautiful girl. Brown skin and green, green eyes. Really, the girl is gorgeous. "Sure!" I said. "Nice to meet you! C'mon and meet the children!" etc. I recieved no history on the girl, no information (this was deliberate), but I knew instinctively that she needed love, and she needed it bad. So Ms. N, my para, and I, poured it on. And for the last month of school, we had not one problem with her.
Turns out she's on all kinds of behavior surveillance, suspected "ODD" (oppositional defiance disorder), therapists and counselors and hullaballo...
Ug. Need I go on. I'm seeing it now. Cat fights with other girls. Refusing to budge. Beautiful girl who wants what she wants, when she wants it, how she wants it, period. ... Last year after I'd had her for only a couple weeks I'd met her father. "Hey! My name is Ms. Lowe, M's been hanging out in my class for the past while. She's doing great! It's so nice to meet you!"
He didn't even look at me.
"C'mon M, let's go," he said.
Wow. Okay, then. Right. See you.
A week later I chanced upon her mother.
"Nice to meet you, I'm Ms. Lowe, M's teacher!"
She barely glanced at me.
Right. Okay, then. See you.
Oppositional defiance disorder? Or maybe ... maybe... something else?
I don't dare criticize the parents. I mean, I'd love to, of course. I'd love to say what fucking SHITTY parents you are, my God, keep your fucking hands off these kids. Pay attention to your kids. What the FUCK do you think you're doing? ... but I don't. I can't. I won't. I do believe, though sometimes I waver, that parents really do the best they can do with their kids, to the best of their ability. T's mom is a crack head, so the best of her ability fucking SUCKS, which is why she lives with her Grandma. But T still talks about her mother as if she is an angel, and when I met her mother for a conference, it was clear that she loved the crap out of her daughter, but just had No Clue - how to be a mother, or how to be herself. How can I criticize? I would love to, but how can I? And how can I explain this conviction? As compassionate as I am for the kids, I'm as compassionate for the parents... I can't help it... and I wasn't always this way...
Who could you possibly love more than your own child? And how terrible would it feel to have no idea how to love your child, who you want to love more than anyone? How much pain would one have to be in? So much. Too much.
But this cycle. Too much. How does it stop?
day 5... FRIDAY!!!
Long week. Some of my poor first graders by 1:30 start crying "can't we go home yet? is it time yet? can we go home?" ... long days... long first week... for kids and for teachers...
It's a mistake to wear my clogs, I know - but they're black and they went good with what I'm wearing today. I've had these clogs for like 10 years now - made of wood - and they used to be the most comfortable shoes ever. Now my feet hurt after clomping on wood all day. Is it age? Or is it just that my school is the size of a flippin shopping mall?
Seriously: to go to gym or outside for recess is like walking from Macy's to JC Penney's. There's no escalator, though, but there is two flights of stairs. And the school rule is for the children to walk with their hands behind their back, no voices.
Imagine little six year olds: They've been walking for less than five years, and now they have to do so with their hands behind their backs. It's not my rule. But it's pretty ridiculous. And keeping them silent on a ten minute walk to or from recess? Coming back in is worse, much worse. They're all sweaty and thirsty and tired, and now they have to walk silently, hands behind their back, ten minutes and up two flights of stairs to get back to class.
ugh.
But we made it through the week.
It's a mistake to wear my clogs, I know - but they're black and they went good with what I'm wearing today. I've had these clogs for like 10 years now - made of wood - and they used to be the most comfortable shoes ever. Now my feet hurt after clomping on wood all day. Is it age? Or is it just that my school is the size of a flippin shopping mall?
Seriously: to go to gym or outside for recess is like walking from Macy's to JC Penney's. There's no escalator, though, but there is two flights of stairs. And the school rule is for the children to walk with their hands behind their back, no voices.
Imagine little six year olds: They've been walking for less than five years, and now they have to do so with their hands behind their backs. It's not my rule. But it's pretty ridiculous. And keeping them silent on a ten minute walk to or from recess? Coming back in is worse, much worse. They're all sweaty and thirsty and tired, and now they have to walk silently, hands behind their back, ten minutes and up two flights of stairs to get back to class.
ugh.
But we made it through the week.
Thursday, September 3, 2009
day 4, sped teacher.
I have a new teacher in my room. So now there's three of us: me, my para, and a SPED teacher. There are 26 children in our class. There are 20 some odd kids on either side of our "pod." Did I mention this? The pod? There are no walls. There are dividers. There are three classrooms in a pod. Mine is in the middle. Loud? Are you kidding? Of course it is.
But back to the new teacher. I knew she was coming; my principal had me meet her before she hired her. Fine, whatever, she seems nice, I said. And she is. But I also said "Three adults in one classroom is too much." Yes, she replied, and then something to the affect that five or six SPED kids in one classroom is also too much. Good point.
However, as far as I can tell, I only have two SPED kids. One who was in my class last year and was pulled out for two hours a day for services, and a new one who started yesterday, a CLEARLY SPED child in second grade who doesn't speak a lick of English. Which is funny, because the new sped teacher doesn't speak a lick of Spanish. Should be interesting.
It should be interesting also in that it seems that my new SPED teacher wants to claim some ownership over my class. It's her first day and already she was jumping in with both feet.
ummmmm... ummmm...
I wanted to say something.
Something like "what do you think you are doing? this is MY class."
Which is when it occurred to me that I might have a little control issue.
I'm sure to be working on this as the arrangement evolves.
In the meantime, E spent the day with the new Asst. principal. He was shouting all morning "I AM EVIL! I AM EVIL!" Creating havoc, shoving shelves around and hiding behind them. Lovely. I thought about the "buddy classroom" method (which is basically dumping him in another room to cool off... works for some, but for him? Not so much...), but really wanted to nip this in the bud. Last year he walked on shelves, barked like a dog, threw pencils around the room, kicked desks over... and also came in with checks stained so raspberry red that on closer inspection were actually bruises. "What happened to your face?" I asked. "I was bad." Then he smacked his own face, left and right, left and right, pulled up his sleeve, and showed me the bruise from the belt his mother hit him with. After that I gave him room. Too much, I fear. Which brings me to the "nip it in the bud" idea.
And a deep sigh....... What's a teacher to do? Ironically, he is the child I love the most, if the most is possible. I love them all. But E? I see the kid, right through. I see right into him. And I want so badly to show him what I see.
Ug.
Oh yeah... back to the new teacher... The first thing she said was "Wow, they love you!" ... yeah, thanks, I guess they do... And later, "Wow, I'm so impressed - you really are good!" ... wow, thanks, yeah, I guess...
How did I almost forget such a compliment?
I am good at this. And some days, some moments that stretch into hours sometimes, I love it. I love it, love it, love it. But the exhaustion.. the speedy adrenaline by the end of the day.. the fast forward feeling okay gotta do this and that and fill out this incident report and write that message down and call that mother and plan this lesson and remember that appointment and and and "GET OFF THAT SHELF." and "we do NOT speak when we are walking in these halls." and "I can't help you if you don't tell me what happened." and "I'm sorry your mother's a crackhead, but could you just learn this multiplication please?" ... okay, so I don't actually say that last one, and hardly even think it ... :)
but seriously.
Tomorrow I'm telling the first great story of creation. I just showed my husband the volcano; baking soda, vinegar, red food coloring, etc. Can't wait, it's gonna be cool.
I'll let you know how it goes.
But back to the new teacher. I knew she was coming; my principal had me meet her before she hired her. Fine, whatever, she seems nice, I said. And she is. But I also said "Three adults in one classroom is too much." Yes, she replied, and then something to the affect that five or six SPED kids in one classroom is also too much. Good point.
However, as far as I can tell, I only have two SPED kids. One who was in my class last year and was pulled out for two hours a day for services, and a new one who started yesterday, a CLEARLY SPED child in second grade who doesn't speak a lick of English. Which is funny, because the new sped teacher doesn't speak a lick of Spanish. Should be interesting.
It should be interesting also in that it seems that my new SPED teacher wants to claim some ownership over my class. It's her first day and already she was jumping in with both feet.
ummmmm... ummmm...
I wanted to say something.
Something like "what do you think you are doing? this is MY class."
Which is when it occurred to me that I might have a little control issue.
I'm sure to be working on this as the arrangement evolves.
In the meantime, E spent the day with the new Asst. principal. He was shouting all morning "I AM EVIL! I AM EVIL!" Creating havoc, shoving shelves around and hiding behind them. Lovely. I thought about the "buddy classroom" method (which is basically dumping him in another room to cool off... works for some, but for him? Not so much...), but really wanted to nip this in the bud. Last year he walked on shelves, barked like a dog, threw pencils around the room, kicked desks over... and also came in with checks stained so raspberry red that on closer inspection were actually bruises. "What happened to your face?" I asked. "I was bad." Then he smacked his own face, left and right, left and right, pulled up his sleeve, and showed me the bruise from the belt his mother hit him with. After that I gave him room. Too much, I fear. Which brings me to the "nip it in the bud" idea.
And a deep sigh....... What's a teacher to do? Ironically, he is the child I love the most, if the most is possible. I love them all. But E? I see the kid, right through. I see right into him. And I want so badly to show him what I see.
Ug.
Oh yeah... back to the new teacher... The first thing she said was "Wow, they love you!" ... yeah, thanks, I guess they do... And later, "Wow, I'm so impressed - you really are good!" ... wow, thanks, yeah, I guess...
How did I almost forget such a compliment?
I am good at this. And some days, some moments that stretch into hours sometimes, I love it. I love it, love it, love it. But the exhaustion.. the speedy adrenaline by the end of the day.. the fast forward feeling okay gotta do this and that and fill out this incident report and write that message down and call that mother and plan this lesson and remember that appointment and and and "GET OFF THAT SHELF." and "we do NOT speak when we are walking in these halls." and "I can't help you if you don't tell me what happened." and "I'm sorry your mother's a crackhead, but could you just learn this multiplication please?" ... okay, so I don't actually say that last one, and hardly even think it ... :)
but seriously.
Tomorrow I'm telling the first great story of creation. I just showed my husband the volcano; baking soda, vinegar, red food coloring, etc. Can't wait, it's gonna be cool.
I'll let you know how it goes.
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
day 3. Sept. 2, 2009
I want to tell you about the best part of my day.
Got up at 5am and took annie dog for a walk, watched the sun rise. Very cool. That wasn't the best part of my day, though.
E and A are giving me hell in my class. Ten years teaching pre school and I never once got my bitch on. I mean, It would have scared the hell out of 3, 4 and 5 year olds. Last year I didn't get my bitch on either, and yes, I payed for it when my first and second graders did some walking on me. With boots. So this year I have my bitch on.
"I should NOT hear ANYONE'S VOICES."
"This is NOT a line!"
"You may NOT speak when I am speaking!"
Etc. It's so weird, this persona... I hate to admit that it's even kind of fun... and it sorta freaks me out when I find myself sounding exactly like my sister...
So the best part of my day was at the end of it, when there were two children left waiting for their bus and we sat on a bench to wait.
I. is the coolest boy ever. I am nuts about that kid. Some kids you just connect with, no effort, like little soul mates. He is that kid. So, there I am on the bench thinking about me-as-bitch-teacher and I say, "I've been pretty mean, huh?"
I. looks at me and nods his head.
"Do you think I'm being too mean?"
"Hey," I. shrugs, my 8 year old soulmate student, "You gotta do what you gotta do!"
Oh my God. That was the best part of my day. That moment will keep me going for at least another week. I am crazy about my kids... even if I've got my bitch on... for now.
Got up at 5am and took annie dog for a walk, watched the sun rise. Very cool. That wasn't the best part of my day, though.
E and A are giving me hell in my class. Ten years teaching pre school and I never once got my bitch on. I mean, It would have scared the hell out of 3, 4 and 5 year olds. Last year I didn't get my bitch on either, and yes, I payed for it when my first and second graders did some walking on me. With boots. So this year I have my bitch on.
"I should NOT hear ANYONE'S VOICES."
"This is NOT a line!"
"You may NOT speak when I am speaking!"
Etc. It's so weird, this persona... I hate to admit that it's even kind of fun... and it sorta freaks me out when I find myself sounding exactly like my sister...
So the best part of my day was at the end of it, when there were two children left waiting for their bus and we sat on a bench to wait.
I. is the coolest boy ever. I am nuts about that kid. Some kids you just connect with, no effort, like little soul mates. He is that kid. So, there I am on the bench thinking about me-as-bitch-teacher and I say, "I've been pretty mean, huh?"
I. looks at me and nods his head.
"Do you think I'm being too mean?"
"Hey," I. shrugs, my 8 year old soulmate student, "You gotta do what you gotta do!"
Oh my God. That was the best part of my day. That moment will keep me going for at least another week. I am crazy about my kids... even if I've got my bitch on... for now.
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
second day.
The morning was going pretty well. Two more children arrived, bringing my class up to 23. I was even comfortable enough to go to the lounge to make a few copies. On the way I passed one of the doors to the stairwell and heard the screaming as I drew near. Through the small window on the door, I glanced and saw a principal and counselor restrain a screaming child. Screaming. Echoing.
Oh yeah. Oh yeah, there's that, too.
Maybe it was a premonition for my afternoon, not that there was screaming. But when we were lining up to go outside for recess (gorgeous day), A didn't want to come. Stood refusing to get on line, shaking his head no. "C'mon, A, I need to you be the door holder." It worked. He got on line behind the leader, the other coveted position.
We were outside for a few minutes when he looked at me and stated simply, "I'm out." He swaggered along the fence toward the door.
Oh crap, I thought. Here we go.
A was in my class last year. He was in foster care for a year and half because of domestic violence. His brothers were placed in two other separate homes, one was allegedly molested where he was kept. They were all reunited in March, with their parents, back at home.
I don't know details. I do know that A gets into fits of rage that seem to come out of nowhere; you can't track where it came from, he just turns on a dime. And when he's there, in that space, it's almost impossible to get through to him. I've seen him throw chairs, overturn tables, push a kid so hard the kid went flying. His face turns red, his eyes get glassy and his fists clench. He poofs out his chest and storms. And most of the time, there's nothing I can do but evacuate the rest of the class from the room and call the counselors and/or the principal.
Last spring he told me his parents had a party and both his mom got into a fight with a guest, and his dad got into a fight. Of course there was plenty of drinking.
A week later he came in cheerful, and told me that he beat up a kid at the park the evening before. "He cried. And I made him bleed on his face."
He smiled at me, as if I were going to give him a high five or something.
"A," I said, "That's not cool."
He shrugged and walked away.
So today, there he was, bolting outside. Another teacher offered to talk to him. He ran from her, to the fence, which he climbed and scaled. "Call the office," she told me.
He was heading to the parking lot so I followed him. The more I followed the quicker he ran, so I turned around and left. I know from past experience that if I don't follow him, it's not as much fun and he eventually crosses my path just for reaction. Which is what he did. I fell for it, and called out "A, I don't know what happened, I can't help you unless I know why you're running." He sped his pace, to another out of bounds area.
I turned around and walked away, again. Counselors arrived.
Ugg.. the story is exhausting just to tell. Anyway he was eventually cornered and the asst. Principal, a very authorative man, stepped in. They escorted him inside. I don't know how that went.
Later the other asst. principal, new to the staff, called on the phone in our classroom wanting an incident report. Standard. I filled it out and brought one down to her office.
She told me A was calm now, and that she gave him some cheese and crackers. They used puppets to demonstrate non-violent communication, and "he really liked that. I don't think he'll be back here again, will you A?"
A is back to being sweet, hugs me and hands me a drawing with the words "Ms. Lowe, I won't run away from you again."
I point to the part where the incident report is checked "pattern of behavior." I flip it over and point to the part I wrote in purple ink "this is familiar behavior from last year. We need to discuss strategies." Ms. new principal is saying that she thinks he's ready to come back to the classroom, doesn't it seem? And he'll do better tomorrow. She reads as she talks. I point to the part that I wrote "I don't feel safe bringing him outside." She says, "Maybe as a consequence he should come to my office tomorrow during recess." A shakes his head, No, no, no. I say, "I think that's fair."
I have so many sweet kids in my class; they really are a good bunch, even A. They are beautiful, they are so innocent on one hand, and too many of them so grossly exposed to circumstances no one should experience.
I don't always know what to do. I don't always know how to react. I work on instinct. I talk about peace, community, and safety All The Time.
It's the second day. It is a long year ahead looking from the second day. I do the best I can.
Oh yeah. Oh yeah, there's that, too.
Maybe it was a premonition for my afternoon, not that there was screaming. But when we were lining up to go outside for recess (gorgeous day), A didn't want to come. Stood refusing to get on line, shaking his head no. "C'mon, A, I need to you be the door holder." It worked. He got on line behind the leader, the other coveted position.
We were outside for a few minutes when he looked at me and stated simply, "I'm out." He swaggered along the fence toward the door.
Oh crap, I thought. Here we go.
A was in my class last year. He was in foster care for a year and half because of domestic violence. His brothers were placed in two other separate homes, one was allegedly molested where he was kept. They were all reunited in March, with their parents, back at home.
I don't know details. I do know that A gets into fits of rage that seem to come out of nowhere; you can't track where it came from, he just turns on a dime. And when he's there, in that space, it's almost impossible to get through to him. I've seen him throw chairs, overturn tables, push a kid so hard the kid went flying. His face turns red, his eyes get glassy and his fists clench. He poofs out his chest and storms. And most of the time, there's nothing I can do but evacuate the rest of the class from the room and call the counselors and/or the principal.
Last spring he told me his parents had a party and both his mom got into a fight with a guest, and his dad got into a fight. Of course there was plenty of drinking.
A week later he came in cheerful, and told me that he beat up a kid at the park the evening before. "He cried. And I made him bleed on his face."
He smiled at me, as if I were going to give him a high five or something.
"A," I said, "That's not cool."
He shrugged and walked away.
So today, there he was, bolting outside. Another teacher offered to talk to him. He ran from her, to the fence, which he climbed and scaled. "Call the office," she told me.
He was heading to the parking lot so I followed him. The more I followed the quicker he ran, so I turned around and left. I know from past experience that if I don't follow him, it's not as much fun and he eventually crosses my path just for reaction. Which is what he did. I fell for it, and called out "A, I don't know what happened, I can't help you unless I know why you're running." He sped his pace, to another out of bounds area.
I turned around and walked away, again. Counselors arrived.
Ugg.. the story is exhausting just to tell. Anyway he was eventually cornered and the asst. Principal, a very authorative man, stepped in. They escorted him inside. I don't know how that went.
Later the other asst. principal, new to the staff, called on the phone in our classroom wanting an incident report. Standard. I filled it out and brought one down to her office.
She told me A was calm now, and that she gave him some cheese and crackers. They used puppets to demonstrate non-violent communication, and "he really liked that. I don't think he'll be back here again, will you A?"
A is back to being sweet, hugs me and hands me a drawing with the words "Ms. Lowe, I won't run away from you again."
I point to the part where the incident report is checked "pattern of behavior." I flip it over and point to the part I wrote in purple ink "this is familiar behavior from last year. We need to discuss strategies." Ms. new principal is saying that she thinks he's ready to come back to the classroom, doesn't it seem? And he'll do better tomorrow. She reads as she talks. I point to the part that I wrote "I don't feel safe bringing him outside." She says, "Maybe as a consequence he should come to my office tomorrow during recess." A shakes his head, No, no, no. I say, "I think that's fair."
I have so many sweet kids in my class; they really are a good bunch, even A. They are beautiful, they are so innocent on one hand, and too many of them so grossly exposed to circumstances no one should experience.
I don't always know what to do. I don't always know how to react. I work on instinct. I talk about peace, community, and safety All The Time.
It's the second day. It is a long year ahead looking from the second day. I do the best I can.
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