It's Easier to Be Happy

Angry Little Boys.

There are a lot of them in the world.  Isn't it just easier to be happy?  I heard that once in a movie, although I can't remember which movie it was.  When I heard it, it was like a weight was lifted, because, yeah, it kind of is.  I'm basically a happy person, I can usually see the bright side of things and am always aware that my situation can be worse, no matter how hard it seems in the moment....the fact remains that somewhere, somehow, somebody else is in a worse situation.

I don't understand how seemingly small things can make people so angry.  Ever heard of,  "Don't sweat the small stuff?"  I certainly have and I don't. 

I walked over to his seat where I saw that he couldn't possibly write any sloppier.  The scene came complete with a scowl and a frown, body slumped and heavy sigh. 

"I know you can do better than that," didn't help much.  I said it partly because I believed this was a negative attention grabbing ploy.  I wasn't giving in that easily.

"No I caaaaaan't!"  Tears ensued.

"I've seen your homework and you CAN do better than this."

He started to cry harder and bellowed, "That's my mom's writing!"  His mom does his homework?  In writing that looks like a kid's?  Okaaaay.  Now it made sense...I always wondered why his homework was always better than anything he ever did in class. 

I made him cry and now I feel like shit, and he feels even more like shit.

But, being that I'm such a happy, optimisic person, I knew I could salvage the situation so I changed tactics and showed him how to keep track of what he's copying off a mini-white board by erasing what he's copied with his finger.  When all the print is gone, he's done.  He liked that.  He was done in 3 minutes, after wasting 30 in class.

I figured out why I'm so tired this year....it's this kid.  The one who crushed my foot with his in a moment of anger.  The effort of getting through the day, day after day, with everyone accounted for, intact, happy, and having learned something is so very, very draining.

I have no idea what his life is like.  I only know that he never, ever shows me who he really is.  He doesn't show anyone at school even a glimmer of a normal 6 year old boy who likes to do little boy things.  Other little boys say hi to him, and he doesn't acknowledge them.  He never smiles.  He never laughs.  He also hasn't received any birthday invitations (to my knowledge) and isn't enrolled in any after school activities or sports.  So sad.  I refuse to believe one's situation is who s/he is.

I've invested a lot into this child, and that's understating.

This past week, that has all changed.  I don't know if something changed at home or if it's the Daily Report I started him on last Friday (on which he earns smiley faces and comments about his day).  He's been responding, trying, raising his hand to contribute, participating, playing, running, and READING!, cutting, gluing, coloring, drawing, and laughing.  Yes, laughing.  He left school with a smile on his face 4 days in a row. 

"Mrs. B, I don't usually read because it's boring but today I was reading and (shoulder shrug) kinda liked it," was music to my ears.  I had noticed that he was indeed reading quietly at his desk and purposely didn't say anything because I know he is very self-conscious and that he wouldn't want to be caught enjoying himself (gasp!).  I sensed this was a breakthrough moment.  I love those.

As happy as that made me, I knew it wouldn't last.  At the risk of sounding judgmental, some families thrive (is that the right word?) on upheaval.  This would not last...

When I found out that he's moving out of state, I was surprised, but not really surprised.  This was news I greeted with mixed emotions.  I was and still am, angry, happy, irritated, relieved, and sad all rolled up into one jumbled mass of confusion.  In any given moment, I can't wait for him to go and I don't want him to leave.  If they're moving, why did they (his family) let me go to so much trouble to get him services?  People don't just up and move 3 states away without knowing about it for some time, right?  I feel like I've been played.  I hope he at least will remember me not as the teacher he hurt, but as the teacher who cared enough to not give up on him. 

Maybe one day, when he's plopped in front of a tv, he'll come across the movie I mentioned and hear that line.  "It's easier to be happy," and feel that release of letting crap go. 

That's me, always hoping, wishing, and dreaming of peace on earth.  But when he goes, I'll give him a big hug, shed a little tear, wave good-bye.....then smile a sad smile.

Early Bird Special

I have 22 "regular" ed students in my class and 2 "special" ed students.  That's a ratio of 24 to 1, not in my favor.  It's so draining to have this many small beings needing me all day long I'm exhausted by lunch. 

At 43, I sometimes feel 103, or what I imagine that age feels like.  My feet hurt, my back hurts, my neck hurts, my muscles need massaging, I eat early and go to bed early, and wake up really early.  I take Joint Juice for crying out loud, and sleep on a Tempurpedic mattress with a Tempurpedic pillow after a hot bath.  I yawn through happy hour.  I don't like to commit to social get-togethers too far in advance in case I'm too tired, or in too much pain, to muster the energy to get dressed and put on make-up.  I can fake it for only too long and that train usually leaves the station when the last bell of the day rings at 2:55 pm.  Sometimes my first thought in the morning is, "I'm am soooo going to bed early tonight!"  If it weren't for coffee...

This year has been especially hard, even though I had pneumonia last year, because of my foot injury, further proving that to teach one must be in top shape physically.  I never knew exactly how much time I spent on my feet until I was grounded.  I never knew how many times I walked across campus, walked circles in my classroom, walked out to the playground after recess, walked to the library and computer lab, walked to assemblies, to the office, to the workroom and lunchroom and to my car and back. 

Oh my gosh, it's 8:21 pm.  What am I doing up?  Good night!

Danger Zone

    I really like the tv show, "Archer."  It's crude and so unlike something anyone would imagine would entertain a teacher.  Just because I'm a teacher doesn't mean I'm not human.  There's a line from the show in which Archer, the self-proclaimed "awesome" ISIS spy declares that another character better call Kenny Loggins because she's in the "danger zone" (in your head say these words in a high-pitched-trying-to-be-cool-but-you're-not singing voice) referring to the very classy and classic, 1980's movie Top Gun.

One day in October, while I was in my classroom doing what I do, the student who usually causes disruption was doing so, so I told him to get out from under the table and join the group.  He wouldn't, so I reasoned with him, telling him that he is part of this group and nobody else is under any tables.  That didn't work so I ignored him for a few minutes (because I don't like to reward negative behavior with attention).  That also didn't work so I asked,  "What if all of us were under tables right now, how would that look?"  Pretty ridiculous, and many of the students thought so too, so there were some giggles.  Sometimes diffusing a situation with humor is the ticket.  Nope.  Not this time.  I was tempted to just let him stay there.  Turns out, I didn't know I was in the danger zone as I never heard the "nanah nah na na, nanah" to warn me of impending danger.

I didn't convey my feelings of impatience (hello? we have a schedule!) but I was getting pretty ticked off.  If there were a thought bubble above my head visible to all, I'd be in real trouble right about now.  I'm very glad we do not live in a Minority Report kind of society.  I lowered my voice an octave and firmly told him, "Get. Out. From. Under. The. Table. Now.  and come turn a card."  I counted, "1 (not one iota of movement)...............................................................................2 (he's still there but moving in the general direction)......................................3."  Out he came with a very angry look on his face.  On his way to the card chart (scroll down to the * below), he passed in front of me and vehemently stomped on my sandal-clad foot with a grunt and a scowl on his face.  I was astounded, but calmly, took his hand and told him, "You hurt me." 

It was recess time, I was finished reading the story anyway, so I excused the rest of the kids to the playground.  I, of course, had yard duty (what teachers have to do instead of using their 10 minute break to go to the bathroom and get ready for the next lesson), so I took him outside with me.  I had him sit on a bench until he cooled off.  I was shockingly not angry, but mostly concerned, as what he had just done immediately registered on his face.  In the days to come, he'd present me with flowers that he'd picked out of someone's yard and a handwritten apology note (he hates to write). 

I didn't think much of the incident in terms of my own physical health.  It didn't really hurt at the time and I figured I was unharmed.  I was mostly worried about this quiet/sweet kid who demonstrated such volatile behavior over something so small.  I know children react physically because they don't yet possess the language to convey emotion.  Dealing with this was my priority and I wanted to do it right. If he doesn't learn to channel his anger now...

Fast forward 3 months...my foot continues to be painful and after way too many phone calls, appointments, and tests, it's been determined I suffered a bone bruise and was told I'm lucky.  Yup, real lucky...let's see, I've spent my own time writing sub plans so I can be out of my classroom to rest my foot and go to physical therapy and doctor appointments.  I hate it when the doctor gets a little giggle out the fact that a small child caused such destruction (if you're going to laugh, don't do it in front of your patient!).  I feel guilty for being out of my classroom so often the kids have begun asking me daily if I'm going to be there after lunch, never mind that I spent my own money to buy a new pair of shoes that I don't even like. 

When I am at school, I have to be off my feet for 45 minutes out of every hour (c'mon) and I flinch every time a small little foot comes within 6 inches of mine.  Oh, don't forget the orthotics I now have to wear that make my feet feel like I'm walking on rocks, and the nightly icing and 3 times daily dose of ibuprofen (since Halloween) that's probably doing a number on my kidneys.  I'm so lucky.  I bet you wish you were me...I'll feel like new in 6-8 MONTHS. 

If I could morph, I'd like to be a little more like Lana, Archer's counterpart.  She has a rockin' body and doesn't take any you-know-what from anyone and usually has a couple of guns strapped to her body (I'd probably wear more clothes than she does though).  I could've used some back up that day.  Being in my classroom alone with 24 little children with questionable language skills and clumsy tendencies can feel like the danger zone sometimes.  What if they decide to mutiny?

photo by unknown

*  The "card chart" is an attempt at recognizing those kids who follow rules and work hard every day.  It consists of 5 colored cards in a labeled pocket.  If you break a rule, you move one of your cards.  Blue=great day.  Yellow=warning, try harder (or, "you're pushing it, buddy)  Green=lose recess (sit on a bench and think about how you're going to change your behavior)  Purple=community service (pick up trash during your recess) (I don't like to imagine certain individuals in their future garb of flourescent orange with their grabbers on the side of the freeway but the image never escapes me and makes me sad) and Red=visit the principal AND call your parents (aka BIG trouble).  If a student gets to end of a day without moving a card, he/she gets a stamp on her/his chart and when it's full it's time to celebrate with a piece of candy and Pat on the Back!  A Pat on the Back is figurative "good job" coupon-sized piece of paper with an imprint of a hand and when a kid saves up 20 they get awarded a Dragon Tag.  A Dragon Tag is a necklace that's like a military dog tag only it's made of plastic and has a picture of Sparky on it.  Sparky is our dragon school mascot who "flies in" for the Positive Action Assembly at the end of the month whose reception is unrivaled by one that would be received by Santa Claus.  A Positive Action Assembly is a gathering in the MP room to honor kids who have demonstrated our word of the month.