Starting tomorrow I have to hand the reigns over to my student teacher (ST). She's completely capable...no worries there. Part of me relishes the easy time I'll have at work for the next couple of weeks, but another part of me really wants to experience this time of year.
Spring in First Grade is the best. The students finally, finally! get it. They can do so much now that they seemed incapable of doing in the fall. Every year it astonishes me to see kids who could barely scrawl out a simple sentence in the fall legibly write 4-8 sentences on a topic. With ease.
They can sit still, read a book, sign in to Accelerated Reader (if you only knew the stress of that), problem solve, and add and subtract. They know the rules, and, for the most part, follow them. I don't have to use the eyes in the back of my head so often anymore, and they listen to reason.
While planning with my ST, I suggested an Easter egg project for art, but now I want to do it! She taught them the money unit and experienced the frustration and confusion that comes with trying to figure out why they didn't get the fact that one can make a value (say, 15 cents) in several different ways. Then she got to experience the feeling of success after reteaching that concept.
She once sent me a text that said, "First grade is exhausting!" Don't I know it, sista! She took over when I got sick (see Germ Factories) and pretty much kept it up since I came back. I'm glad, because now her solo 2 weeks won't seem so daunting.
I'm torn between being grateful that I get a little break and having a chance to get caught up on paperwork and little odds and ends that never seem to get done, feeling guilty that I have this time, and wanting to be a fly on the wall when she has those little guys all to herself. I'm stressing...will she remember to update the behavior chart? pass out nickels? fill out daily reports (behavior contracts for a small few), put things away? run off needed materials? etc, etc...of course she will. She will learn by doing, and not doing. That's how I learned.
So...for the next few weeks, I get to create my own work. Organize my file cabinets, clean out cupboards, find all my "lost" manipulatives that I know I have somewhere, update cumulative folders.... I don't have to be the exhausted one for a little while. I get to have energy at the end of the day. Yippee?
Sunday, April 10, 2011
Monday, April 4, 2011
Baby, I'm a Star!
I am a celebrity in my own microcosm of celebrity-hood otherwise known as Room 17. I know this because every time a student sees me out of the context of the classroom, my name is shouted from wherever said student is and he/she is waving and smiling, hoping to get a wave back. I'm even treated to hugs if I'm spotted in a vicinity anywhere near the play structure after school. It's so great, especially since I'll never ever be hounded by paparazzi in my lifetime nor will I ever be featured in People magazine for winning an Oscar.
In first grade, we like to cook. Before we ever make soup or pancakes, pizza or rice krispy treats (even mini pumpkin cheesecakes one year!), students are reminded of the Rules.
When kids are asked open-ended questions about Rules, they come up with some pretty bizarre ideas. They know the basics, which usually start with the word "no." We teachers have this annoying need to phrase everything in the positive (me, not so much, but I try to keep it balanced). If a student responds with, "No pinching," I'd rephrase it as, "Keep your hands to yourself" or "Hands off." So imagine what was said when we discussed cooking rules.
1. Keep your hands off (yes, that's very good, what's-your-name)
2. Be nice (of course)
3. Be kind (isn't that what "be nice" means?)
4. No punching someone in the face (would you do that when you're cooking?) (I don't really want to know the answer to that question)
5. Never touch the pan (FINALLY a relevant response)
I asked, "Why not touch the pan?" The little girl (who obviously has helped out in the kitchen) exasperatedly responded with her eyes open wide and eyebrows arched, "So you don't burn your hand." Duh.
I explained, once again, about germs and clean hands (again with the clean hands-sheesh!). So rule #1 is to always wash with soap and water first (in the bathroom, of course, so my sink isn't destroyed). Also, we don't lick our fingers or cough/sneeze on the food we're preparing.
For our first cooking experiment we cooked noodle soup. I chose soup to go with our story called Hot Fox Soup in which a fox with a big vat in the forest tries to get his animals friends into the vat so he can cook them (none of them take him up on his offer). In the end, the animals sit down at the table to eat their noodle soup. It's not that great of a story as there's only so much an author can do with short vowel words.
So anyway....I gave each child a paper plate, a plastic knife, one baby carrot and one small piece of celery. They were told to chop their vegetables and come up to put them in the pan (in which I was sauteeing pre-sliced onion-imagine 22 6 year olds chopping onion!). They wordlessly sawed at those poor carrots and celery. As I was standing at my table sauteeing I imagined myself on a cooking show. I began to speak like Julia Child. They didn't get the joke, they probably thought I was just losing my marbles again. Typical. I continued in this way for my own enjoyment, though.
"Now class, if your celery is ragged, just toss it in the pot anyway....who's to see?" There was a lot of ragged celery and carrots that looked like they'd been through the mulcher. "Oh, well, it all looks the same in your tummy!" I added water and bullion to boil, so while we waited we drew what was in the pot.
One time we made rice krispy treats (supposedly to reinforce "sequencing"). "Ok, class, now we melt the butter-but we mustn't burn it," came my Julia Child voice. Why? Why do I do that? "Then we add the marshmallows and let them melt." Why aren't the damn marshmallows melting? And I'm supposed to mix how many cups of rice krispies into this pot? It sure doesn't look like the dry will mix with the liquid very well, but that's what the recipe says...
I'm sorry, but my right arm was not made to stir rice krispy treats. A mom came in later in the day and I told her that she'd have to take over while I went to get a massage (joking) so she informed me that she, "always uses less rice krispies" because she knows how hard it is. Well, isn't she the smart one.
To go with our story If You Give a Pig a Pancake we made.....you guessed it. Pancakes! And just so you know, it's about what happens if a pig should happen to come to your window and you decide to give it a pancake since you're making them anyway and a pig coming to your window isn't weird at all. By this time in the year, they've cooked a few things and have the Rules down. They can practically get their own squirt and hardly anyone attempts the drip dry method anymore.
I cheat and buy mix. All we have to do is add water. But I do bring in my griddle and all the necessary tools. I feel like a pack mule as I make my way from my car to the classroom the day we make pancakes, what with carrying bags full of groceries, utensils, bowls, cutlery and plates, and of course, the griddle and syrup.
They oooohhhh and ahhhhhhh when I put the butter on the hot griddle (somebody always has to test rule # 5 and he/she is told to "hold your finger under cold water"). They each get to stir it and watch as I scoop out the batter into 6 perfect pancakes. They watch them bubble as though they were witnessing a miracle. They clap when I flip them. Yaayyyy, she didn't screw it up! A mom popped in and started taking pictures. These will be so cute in the yearbook, she said.
Wait a minute. I have an audience, I am screamed at when spotted from afar, I receive fan mail (fodder for another post perhaps!), and didn't I just have my picture taken unbidden?! Maybe I'll win an award someday, too, I think...nah. This is the best reward anybody can ask for.
Best. Job. Ever.
In first grade, we like to cook. Before we ever make soup or pancakes, pizza or rice krispy treats (even mini pumpkin cheesecakes one year!), students are reminded of the Rules.
When kids are asked open-ended questions about Rules, they come up with some pretty bizarre ideas. They know the basics, which usually start with the word "no." We teachers have this annoying need to phrase everything in the positive (me, not so much, but I try to keep it balanced). If a student responds with, "No pinching," I'd rephrase it as, "Keep your hands to yourself" or "Hands off." So imagine what was said when we discussed cooking rules.
1. Keep your hands off (yes, that's very good, what's-your-name)
2. Be nice (of course)
3. Be kind (isn't that what "be nice" means?)
4. No punching someone in the face (would you do that when you're cooking?) (I don't really want to know the answer to that question)
5. Never touch the pan (FINALLY a relevant response)
I asked, "Why not touch the pan?" The little girl (who obviously has helped out in the kitchen) exasperatedly responded with her eyes open wide and eyebrows arched, "So you don't burn your hand." Duh.
I explained, once again, about germs and clean hands (again with the clean hands-sheesh!). So rule #1 is to always wash with soap and water first (in the bathroom, of course, so my sink isn't destroyed). Also, we don't lick our fingers or cough/sneeze on the food we're preparing.
For our first cooking experiment we cooked noodle soup. I chose soup to go with our story called Hot Fox Soup in which a fox with a big vat in the forest tries to get his animals friends into the vat so he can cook them (none of them take him up on his offer). In the end, the animals sit down at the table to eat their noodle soup. It's not that great of a story as there's only so much an author can do with short vowel words.
So anyway....I gave each child a paper plate, a plastic knife, one baby carrot and one small piece of celery. They were told to chop their vegetables and come up to put them in the pan (in which I was sauteeing pre-sliced onion-imagine 22 6 year olds chopping onion!). They wordlessly sawed at those poor carrots and celery. As I was standing at my table sauteeing I imagined myself on a cooking show. I began to speak like Julia Child. They didn't get the joke, they probably thought I was just losing my marbles again. Typical. I continued in this way for my own enjoyment, though.
"Now class, if your celery is ragged, just toss it in the pot anyway....who's to see?" There was a lot of ragged celery and carrots that looked like they'd been through the mulcher. "Oh, well, it all looks the same in your tummy!" I added water and bullion to boil, so while we waited we drew what was in the pot.
One time we made rice krispy treats (supposedly to reinforce "sequencing"). "Ok, class, now we melt the butter-but we mustn't burn it," came my Julia Child voice. Why? Why do I do that? "Then we add the marshmallows and let them melt." Why aren't the damn marshmallows melting? And I'm supposed to mix how many cups of rice krispies into this pot? It sure doesn't look like the dry will mix with the liquid very well, but that's what the recipe says...
I'm sorry, but my right arm was not made to stir rice krispy treats. A mom came in later in the day and I told her that she'd have to take over while I went to get a massage (joking) so she informed me that she, "always uses less rice krispies" because she knows how hard it is. Well, isn't she the smart one.
To go with our story If You Give a Pig a Pancake we made.....you guessed it. Pancakes! And just so you know, it's about what happens if a pig should happen to come to your window and you decide to give it a pancake since you're making them anyway and a pig coming to your window isn't weird at all. By this time in the year, they've cooked a few things and have the Rules down. They can practically get their own squirt and hardly anyone attempts the drip dry method anymore.
I cheat and buy mix. All we have to do is add water. But I do bring in my griddle and all the necessary tools. I feel like a pack mule as I make my way from my car to the classroom the day we make pancakes, what with carrying bags full of groceries, utensils, bowls, cutlery and plates, and of course, the griddle and syrup.
They oooohhhh and ahhhhhhh when I put the butter on the hot griddle (somebody always has to test rule # 5 and he/she is told to "hold your finger under cold water"). They each get to stir it and watch as I scoop out the batter into 6 perfect pancakes. They watch them bubble as though they were witnessing a miracle. They clap when I flip them. Yaayyyy, she didn't screw it up! A mom popped in and started taking pictures. These will be so cute in the yearbook, she said.
Wait a minute. I have an audience, I am screamed at when spotted from afar, I receive fan mail (fodder for another post perhaps!), and didn't I just have my picture taken unbidden?! Maybe I'll win an award someday, too, I think...nah. This is the best reward anybody can ask for.
Best. Job. Ever.
Sunday, April 3, 2011
Germ Factories
It occurred to me how much time we all spend getting rid of germs. Here's what went through my mind...
...filthy hands, filthy tables, filthy chairs, doorknobs, drinking fountains, pencils, crayons, toys, and manipulatives, playground balls, jumpropes, swing chain, play structure, sandbox, and whatever bugs and other critters kids are curious about (how many kids have come up to you holding a worm? "Look, Teacher!"). Our doors should have a warning sign that says, "Enter at your own risk" or "Beware of Bacteria."
I must go through a gallon or more of hand sanitizer every year. Just squirt that stuff right into a child's brown hand after he comes in from playing in the sandbox or playing handball. At least the germs are killed, I think to myself, because I can't have 22 kids at the sink actually washing their hands with soap and water. I've done it before, I don't recommend.
The Clorox wipe people should pay me some sort of kickback. We go through a big container once a month or so on cleaning the filthy tables. It's a good thing I have terrific room parents who donate the stuff. How do tables get that filthy, you wonder? Imagine this: a child arrives on the first day of school (clean) and finds her desk (also clean). She colors a picture and perhaps is told to cut something and use her glue stick. She kindly follows directions, but accidentally gets some glue stick on the table. No big deal. Ah, but that's only the beginning...after one day of use and 2 recesses later, the glue-stick-covered table has become a magnet for dirt. Suddenly, everything that comes in contact with that table sticks to it so that there is now a concoction of glue/dirt from dirty hands/germs/crayon and marker all over it.
I teach numerous lessons on personal hygiene. Since I don't want to be coughed or sneezed on and thus, get sick, I spend probably a good hour or two (when you add up a 10 minute lesson here and there) on how to cough/sneeze (into your elbow), blow your nose (by actually blowing into the tissue, not rolling the tissue into a spike to stick up your nose so you can see your snot as you pull it out), and how to wash your hands with soap and dry them off (not shake and drip dry so everything in your path gets wet). Oh, and don't forget the lessons on how to use the drinking fountain (didn't your mother teach you not to put your mouth ON the nozzle?). Mine did and I obeyed. Kids today...(sigh).
It's March, I figure we made it through flu season, and the kids who are still sick are in the last stages and will be well soon. They're not contagious and my immune system is strong! I haven't been sick all year and haven't been for a good 3 years running. By "sick" I mean so sick that I have to use a sick day on actually being sick. Then it happened. I was directly in the line of fire when a kid coughed directly in my face. He put his little elbow up but his aim was lacking and he over shot. Instead of all his germs landing safely in his jacket sleeve, they flew above it and joyously invaded my eyes, nose, and mouth. I imagined a microscopic army not believing their good luck and going to work invading my healthy tissue, Jackpot!. This was on a Monday.
About 5 days went by and I felt fine. I thought, "Wooohoooo! I beat it!" But by Sunday I was starting to feel run down. "I'm just tired from all the late days," I thought. But I downed some Emergen-C just in case. By Monday, 7 days since the Incident, I had a slight cough and runny nose, but it was going nowhere. I persevered through the staff meeting. I thought, "I have such a strong immune system!" By Tuesday afternoon, I ditched the after lunch meeting to go home and rest. "I'll be so much better tomorrow," I thought. Hahahahaha...that is so funny...
I had to take the next day off. I was losing the battle with the mighty army of germs that invaded my body over a week ago. But I managed to get out of bed Thursday morning. Must. Get. To. Work. They. Can't. Live. Without. Me. and when did I get hit by a truck? Two days later I would find out that I had pneumonia. I lost the battle, but I would not lose the war, as I had been given antibiotics and as it turned out, I used 5 sick days on actually being sick. Go figure. That'll teach me to be so high and mighty about my "strong" immune system.
The very day I came back to work the first thing I had the kids do was get out those Clorox wipes and clean. Then they had to get a "baby wipe" (no, they DON'T smell like poop, as the kids would have me believe) to clean the chemicals and dirt (did I mention kids have dirty hands?) off their hands. They also had to endure yet another lesson on how to cough and/or sneeze. I made them practice over and over. By about the 20th time, there was severe eye rolling. I didn't care.
Here are some helpful hints for anyone who volunteers (angels) and/or anyone who otherwise finds themselves surrounded by germ factories:
1. Wash your hands once an hour and every time you use the restroom and before you eat.
2. Never (I mean NEVER) touch your face.
3. Avoid using the same pencils/markers/crayons/erasers, etc. the kids use. Have your own.
4. NEVER open a leaky lunchbox. You just don't know.
5. The same goes for leaky backpacks (or anything leaking).
6. Eat healthy and get plenty of rest (I go to bed around 8:45. No, I'm not 7).
You think I'm paranoid. But not really. If we knew how much bacteria exists in the average elementary classroom, nobody would enter, and I go there everyday and live to tell about it. I was forced to spend 5 days, 24 hours a day, in bed or on the couch. Getting up to go the bathroom or get something to eat exhausted me. There is only so much tv one can watch. I read 3 whole books, played "Every Word" on my Kindle til my eyes crossed, and took lots of naps. I almost finished Season 4 of Rescue Me, compliments of Netflix Instant Play (it's awesome).
It's been a week plus since I felt well enough to return to the germ factories and am very happy to say that I really missed them!! They missed me, too. Aww...
...filthy hands, filthy tables, filthy chairs, doorknobs, drinking fountains, pencils, crayons, toys, and manipulatives, playground balls, jumpropes, swing chain, play structure, sandbox, and whatever bugs and other critters kids are curious about (how many kids have come up to you holding a worm? "Look, Teacher!"). Our doors should have a warning sign that says, "Enter at your own risk" or "Beware of Bacteria."
I must go through a gallon or more of hand sanitizer every year. Just squirt that stuff right into a child's brown hand after he comes in from playing in the sandbox or playing handball. At least the germs are killed, I think to myself, because I can't have 22 kids at the sink actually washing their hands with soap and water. I've done it before, I don't recommend.
The Clorox wipe people should pay me some sort of kickback. We go through a big container once a month or so on cleaning the filthy tables. It's a good thing I have terrific room parents who donate the stuff. How do tables get that filthy, you wonder? Imagine this: a child arrives on the first day of school (clean) and finds her desk (also clean). She colors a picture and perhaps is told to cut something and use her glue stick. She kindly follows directions, but accidentally gets some glue stick on the table. No big deal. Ah, but that's only the beginning...after one day of use and 2 recesses later, the glue-stick-covered table has become a magnet for dirt. Suddenly, everything that comes in contact with that table sticks to it so that there is now a concoction of glue/dirt from dirty hands/germs/crayon and marker all over it.
I teach numerous lessons on personal hygiene. Since I don't want to be coughed or sneezed on and thus, get sick, I spend probably a good hour or two (when you add up a 10 minute lesson here and there) on how to cough/sneeze (into your elbow), blow your nose (by actually blowing into the tissue, not rolling the tissue into a spike to stick up your nose so you can see your snot as you pull it out), and how to wash your hands with soap and dry them off (not shake and drip dry so everything in your path gets wet). Oh, and don't forget the lessons on how to use the drinking fountain (didn't your mother teach you not to put your mouth ON the nozzle?). Mine did and I obeyed. Kids today...(sigh).
It's March, I figure we made it through flu season, and the kids who are still sick are in the last stages and will be well soon. They're not contagious and my immune system is strong! I haven't been sick all year and haven't been for a good 3 years running. By "sick" I mean so sick that I have to use a sick day on actually being sick. Then it happened. I was directly in the line of fire when a kid coughed directly in my face. He put his little elbow up but his aim was lacking and he over shot. Instead of all his germs landing safely in his jacket sleeve, they flew above it and joyously invaded my eyes, nose, and mouth. I imagined a microscopic army not believing their good luck and going to work invading my healthy tissue, Jackpot!. This was on a Monday.
About 5 days went by and I felt fine. I thought, "Wooohoooo! I beat it!" But by Sunday I was starting to feel run down. "I'm just tired from all the late days," I thought. But I downed some Emergen-C just in case. By Monday, 7 days since the Incident, I had a slight cough and runny nose, but it was going nowhere. I persevered through the staff meeting. I thought, "I have such a strong immune system!" By Tuesday afternoon, I ditched the after lunch meeting to go home and rest. "I'll be so much better tomorrow," I thought. Hahahahaha...that is so funny...
I had to take the next day off. I was losing the battle with the mighty army of germs that invaded my body over a week ago. But I managed to get out of bed Thursday morning. Must. Get. To. Work. They. Can't. Live. Without. Me. and when did I get hit by a truck? Two days later I would find out that I had pneumonia. I lost the battle, but I would not lose the war, as I had been given antibiotics and as it turned out, I used 5 sick days on actually being sick. Go figure. That'll teach me to be so high and mighty about my "strong" immune system.
The very day I came back to work the first thing I had the kids do was get out those Clorox wipes and clean. Then they had to get a "baby wipe" (no, they DON'T smell like poop, as the kids would have me believe) to clean the chemicals and dirt (did I mention kids have dirty hands?) off their hands. They also had to endure yet another lesson on how to cough and/or sneeze. I made them practice over and over. By about the 20th time, there was severe eye rolling. I didn't care.
Here are some helpful hints for anyone who volunteers (angels) and/or anyone who otherwise finds themselves surrounded by germ factories:
1. Wash your hands once an hour and every time you use the restroom and before you eat.
2. Never (I mean NEVER) touch your face.
3. Avoid using the same pencils/markers/crayons/erasers, etc. the kids use. Have your own.
4. NEVER open a leaky lunchbox. You just don't know.
5. The same goes for leaky backpacks (or anything leaking).
6. Eat healthy and get plenty of rest (I go to bed around 8:45. No, I'm not 7).
You think I'm paranoid. But not really. If we knew how much bacteria exists in the average elementary classroom, nobody would enter, and I go there everyday and live to tell about it. I was forced to spend 5 days, 24 hours a day, in bed or on the couch. Getting up to go the bathroom or get something to eat exhausted me. There is only so much tv one can watch. I read 3 whole books, played "Every Word" on my Kindle til my eyes crossed, and took lots of naps. I almost finished Season 4 of Rescue Me, compliments of Netflix Instant Play (it's awesome).
It's been a week plus since I felt well enough to return to the germ factories and am very happy to say that I really missed them!! They missed me, too. Aww...
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