I'm GLAD to be a teacher!

     I met my new class on Thursday and spent two days with them before the weekend.  Starting on a Thursday is genius.  It's just enough time to get a little done then rest up over the weekend and be ready for five full days the following week.
     I'm fresh off a two day (out of six total) GLAD (Guided Language Acquisition and Development) training and boy was my head swirling with mixed feelings!  I was jazzed and excited about the new things I learned, yet my secure and comfortable world as a first grade teacher was slightly rocked.  The trainers made it look so easy.  This, combined with my new obsession with Pinterest, had me in a state.
     I'm not averse to trying new ideas, so I dove in.  They talked about a way to get the students' attention without being intrusive.  They modeled how to simply put your hand up in the air (I usually ring a bell or clap) and wait for students to notice and copy you.  Raising hands are supposed to travel throughout the room like a wave at a baseball game.  Well, that lasted about a 1/2 day.  It wasn't really working and I don't like being ignored, so I went back to ringing a bell.  Bell rings,  Hands Up.  That's better.
     On Day One, I read a story called Jitter Juice, about a person who is nervous about going to school on the first day.  As we read, students thought they were hearing about a child who was nervous, but when they discovered it was the teacher, they were surprised.  So after a little vocabulary development (big words for figuring out what "jitter" means), I poured some Fresca out into cups and passed it out.  Here is what I was treated to during the next ten minutes:

"OK, I'm going to pass out some soda, it's lemon lime, but right now it's just soda, so wait until we turn it into Jitter Juice!"

Child:  "But I don't have the jitters."

"Well, goooooood!  You can have some Jitter Juice anyway so you don't get them later."  What behavior am I teaching here???

Child 2:  "I don't want any Jitter Juice.  I don't like lemon lime."

"Ok, I'll give you some anyway so you'll have in case you change your mind."  Hopefully, I'm teaching her to be open to new things (?).

     I smiled and shook my head "yes" slightly.  My little technique to get kids to do what I want.  Sometimes it works.
     The rest of the kids were having fun and so was I.  The best part was when it was time to transform it into Jitter Juice. I had gotten grape Kool Aid and poured it into a teeny tiny cup and called it Jitter Juice Powder.  As I walked around the room, I sprinkled a tiny amount into their cups and reveled in the "oohs" and "aahhhs" I heard.

"It's turning purple!"

"It's just Kool Aid."  Thank goodness nobody really wanted to hear that.  Children are uncanny in shutting each other down.  In this case, I liked that.

"It's swirling around!"

"It's turning into Jitter Juice!"

    Once we all sang the chant we learned during "Vocabulary Development" they chugged it down. But when I saw them do that, I thought to myself:

"OMG they look like they're doing shots."  Crap.  All we needed were some quarters, put a bucket in the middle of the tables, and we'd be set.  Jitter Juice Par-tay!

     When a teacher tries new things, sometimes it goes beautifully and sometimes it goes unexpectedly.  This was unexpected, but not the end of the world.  They loved the Jitter Juice and asked for more, but that's when I snatched the wonder and beauty of the Teachable Moment:

     "No, we can't have too much or we won't feel good.  We have to know when enough is enough."  Yeah, right.  I'd sure like a shot (or two) of tequila right now...with some lime, perhaps, especially because now they were making those empty plastic cups crack and pop in their hands.  Plus, I only bought one bottle of Fresca, justified through reasoning that a little bit of artificial sweetener was better than sugar in the middle of the day.  Must get those cups in the trash can...
    I tried a few other GLAD strategies on the second day and I know the minor mistakes I made, but the kids don't, nobody was harmed, and that's really what matters.
     I will finish my GLAD training during Labor Day week, where I will see the many, many strategies I learned about in action in an actual classroom with actual kids.   In the meantime, I will fumble around, work harder not smarter, be outside my comfort zone for a little while, and carry on.

If you are interested in Project GLAD, here is a link to the website:

http://www.projectglad.com/

   
   

   



     

Locked Down

Early in the morning on July 20, 2012, at a midnight showing Dark Knight Rises, a man entered the movie theater with the sole purpose of killing people and succeeded.  I had my own experience with this type of crime and have hesitated ever since to publish it, fearing it would cause more emotional distress for those involved.  I'm not sure I should publish it, even now, 18 months later.  Perhaps this shooting in the theater has brought it up to the surface yet again.  I don't know, but for some reason, maybe it's cathartic and therapeutic for me, but I feel a need to write about it and get it out there in cyberspace.

So here goes:

The morning of February 2, 2011, the principal of our sister school was shot and killed while he sat at his desk.

It started like every other morning.  I woke up early, went about my morning routine mindlessly, slowly awakening to the day.  The hour commute was uneventful, but the remnants of the sunrise left beautiful colors in the partly cloudy sky and I always enjoy that part of the drive.  It makes me cheer up and begin to look forward to the day ahead....perhaps we'd do an art project or complete a particularly challenging math lesson or read one of my favorites from the students' reader.  No matter what, in spite of planning and preparing, I never really know what will unfold in any single day.

As usual, when I got to school, I hit the ground running.  The switch in my brain flicked on, and I would be a Teacher for the next 8 hours.  I said, "Good Morning," to passersby, whether they were parents I knew or didn't know, fellow teachers, or students.  I usually receive a hug or two from kids I may or may not know, but who obviously know me.  I ran copies, visited with whomever was doing the same, checked my mailbox, retreived my lunch cards and anything else I'd need for the next couple of hours, as I'd be unable to leave the room until recess.

Everything was business as usual.

8:45 sure came fast, so I quickly walked out to the playground for Morning Stretch.  My whole school meets there in designated line-up spots for music and stretching, flag salute, birthday and other announcements.  The usual suspects were misbehaving, talking mostly, so I shushed them and reminded them to be respectful during the flag salute.  I was wearing my wine-colored square-necked, 3/4 sleeved sweater, "nice" jeans and my new black flats that feel like slippers.  I really like them, my feet don't hurt...

We entered the classroom (I love that the kids just know what to do now).  We all went about getting our stuff put away.  I signed in on the computer for lunch count.  The kids took their seats on the floor and I tell specific kids to "make a smart choice" about where to sit.  I got a count, nobody was absent, and we go about Calendar and getting to Flex Groups-phonics class.

Flex goes smoothly, as usual, because it's a very scripted program.  We sure can pack a lot into 40 minutes!  It includes phonemic awareness, sound spellings, decoding a list of words together, sight word introduction and review, spelling, and reading practice.  It feels like it goes by in about 15 minutes and I often hear, when I tell the kids to get their stamp cards out, "Already?!"  (I love that).

When I had my own class back together, we ate a snack and proceeded to math.  This lesson was a challenging one on comparing two digit numbers and using the greater than, less than, and equal signs.  The strategy is to look at the tens first and compare.  If they are the same, you compare the ones.  In order to know which arrow to use, the kids are told to imagine a big alligator's mouth, which can eat a lot.  They pretend they are alligators, knashing their teeth, and imagining eating a huge amount of food.  The "alligator's mouth" eats the greater (I almost always have to say "bigger" instead because it seems the word "greater" is too much for the 7 year old brain to handle) number. So they draw a mouth with sharp teeth that is eating the  greater number.

The day was pretty routine and going smoothly.  It was almost recess, time for a breather, and a time to get ready for the lesson after recess.

It went well and it was time to clean up.  At 10:40, in someone else's universe, life had changed drastically, but as far as I knew, life was chugging along....we counted table points and the new "Golden Table" was announced (kids at this table get to go first to everything) and much cheering ensued.  I dismissed the golden table, and one boy had one foot out the door, but I called him back because he didn't put his book away.  It was 10:45 on the dot when we heard the school secretary on the intercom, "THIS A LOCKDOWN.  THIS IS A LOCKDOWN" (kids literally stopped in their tracks).  I don't know what else she said, but by the tone of her voice I knew this wasn't a drill.   I turned to the class and said, "GO,"  as I pointed to the bank of bookshelves where they had practiced this drill 3 months prior.

They went, and I went into robot mode:  Lock the door, pull the shade, put the colored card in the window (to tell officials who is/is not accounted for, one was at the nurse so I stumbled to find the yellow card), grab the radio and turn it on, pull the enormous window drapes (on those damn cheap runners that don't slide easily so I have to tug and pull ridiculously, struggling to get them closed), glancing in the kids' direction every other second, shushing those who were giggling and not aware of the seriousness of the situation yet, all the while my heart was pumping wildly, my brain forcing me to outwardly appear calm.

When I was satisfied we were locked down sufficiently, I came to.  I saw those awesome kids hunched over, in exactly the place they were suppose to be, being quiet as mice.  I didn't say anything yet...was still a little stunned at what I had just done in the span of about 60 seconds.  Then we heard the doorknob being roughly jostled.  I suppressed my watery eyes told myself and the kids that it was the janitor checking on us (I hoped it was the janitor "checking on us" and not some "bad guy").  I honestly thought, and fervently hoped, we'd be told this was a false alarm. 

After maybe 5 minutes of total silence and no word from anyone, I crawled to my email.  There was one from the secretary that there was an "incident" at the other elementary school and that all the kids were safe.  I thought, "That's good news,"  and felt somewhat relieved.  Whatever this was, we'll be outta here soon.  Five more minutes went by so I let the kids sit up and stretch their legs.  A couple of boys wanted to talk and laugh, but they got a very stern look and finger pointed at them (do NOT. EVEN. START.), and they got it.

I got out a Magic Treehouse book (a very cute series by Mary Pope Osborn) entitled Pirates Past Noon.  I began to read about Jack and Annie, two kids who are brother and sister and about 7 years old who travel through space and time in the magic treehouse.  For 8 chapters we were in the Caribbean dealing with pirates and maps and treasure.  That book was a tremendous help in keeping us all calm.

The radio was pretty quiet.  I checked email, but there was no real news.  One teacher wanted to know when we'd be released.  She was told that this is not a drill.  Our brains just don't go there....at least not mine.  To my mind there was NO WAY anything awful had happened, even though we could hear sirens and helicopters.  I knew my colleague just across the way was in her room with one adult and one child.  I was wondering if she was getting a ton of work done.  I knew other colleagues had been on recess duty, as many students had already gone to recess.  They were in one room with over 100 students.

Recess time had come and gone, time ticked by, lunch time came and went.  Chapter after chapter I was getting more and more nervous.  I didn't dare say the word "bathroom."  The power of suggestion is strong.  But the call of nature is stronger, and kids were starting to squeeze their legs together and also complain that they were getting hungry.  I told them that they could try really, really hard to hold it, or they'd have to go in the trash can.  After they calmed down from hearing that news, I started mentally planning what we could do about lunch.  Just as I was figuring out that we could have the kids who brought lunch from home share what they have, we were released and told lunch would be ready in a half hour. 

The classroom doors opened simultaneously, the bathroom doors were locked so I unlocked them, to the great relief of many.  All 480 students were on the playground and we were told to help supervise.  When I finally saw my friend and colleague, she was red in the face and watery eyed.  Before this registered, I jokingly asked if she got a lot of planning done?  She told me "he didn't make it."  WHAT?  Who?  WHAT THE HELL IS SHE TALKING ABOUT?  I was completely confused.  She had texted her grown boys to get on the internet and find out what was going on.  The power of denial is so strong that when she first said that, my first thought was that she had heard a rumor that would later be proved false.

Our district is small with only 2 elementary schools and one middle school.  The principal at the other elementary school (just a mile away) had been shot in his office and died.  While I was reading about pirates, my principal, who had traveled to the scene, was watching her friend die while he was being taken away in an ambulance.  While I was worrying about feeding the kids and makeshift trashcan toilets, she was surrounded by armed police and told she couldn't leave the scene.  I thought of his wife and children, the staff at the school, the students...the whole community, how I was standing on the playground at this second, intact, safe, and grateful that I will go home alive today.  But also aware of keen understanding of the notion that death can come anytime, anyday, no matter what profession you're in or how you live your life.

We decided, as we stood on the playground, to tell the kids that there was a bad guy in town and the police were searching for him, and  that they found him and he's in jail, so that's why we didn't have to hide anymore.  After lunch, I told them this and also, to not listen to "stories."  They thought it was a robber and I didn't tell them anything different, mostly so I wouldn't have a room full of terrified children.  One child asked, "Why would someone do this?"  They didn't have answers and neither did I, but one boy did.  He told us that "maybe his brain is rotten.  Or upside down."  To me, that is the perfect answer, the one that made me almost lose it for the first time, (but didn't because I hadn't told them about the shooting, and if I cry they'll know it wasn't a robber).  We ended the talk with the thought that by the time they get home, it will be on the news and their parents could tell them the details.

That weekend,  I came across that burgandy sweater in the dirty laundry basket.  I don't think I can wear it again.  I didn't get rid of it (my first reaction), but it's folded and put away.  It became a symbol for the memory of that day.  The day my training really kicked in and found out that maybe I am made of the right stuff for this job, the day a tragic death occurred.  All the teachers and staff did what they were trained to do and not one child was harmed.

February 2, 2011, will now stand out in my mind as the distinction, or marker, between the way life was before the shooting and how it is now.  I did teach a challenging math lesson, but now that particular concept will always be tagged in my mind as the "lesson I was teaching when the principal was shot."  I won't be able to read a Groundhog Day story or hear about Puxatawny Phil without also thinking of this lockdown and the reasons we had to hide.  Every time I hear on the news of another shooting, in a theater, or a restaurant, it all comes back to me.

The shooter, a year later, has been convicted of murder and sentenced to life in prison.  We all followed the trial on livewire and waited for only an hour and half for the verdict. It was the right one and there was one moment of relief, but that quickly faded as we realized that nobody wins here.  This will not bring our dead principal, husband, and father of three girls, back. There is no real justice.

I will never understand how anybody can think a gun will solve everyday life problems.  There is no answer to the question of  "Why?"  Although I think my young student was able to voice it more eloquently than anyone...his brain is just rotten, like a jack-o-lantern left on the porch for one too many nights...or upside down.

My heart goes out to the people in the movie theater, trapped under gunfire, terrified, some now mourning the loss of a child, a sibling, or a friend.  The words we use to describe these sudden and violent events never ring true.  Yet what else can we say to express our utter disbelief?

My experience, which took place in a small classroom on a different campus a half mile away, was traumatic for us.  I can only hope and believe that it will be my one and only brush with tragedy, knowing it probably isn't.  A shooting of this nature used to be a once-in-a-lifetime event, but is now something for which we prepare and train.

To the dispatchers, police, fire, EMTs, and other personnel involved in responding to these calls, thank you from the bottom of my heart and soul.  I appreciate all you do to protect us.

Giving

The Giving Tree, a delightful book by Shel Silverstein, is one of my favorite books, as are all of his poetry books.  When I was a kid, I used to ride my bike to the public library to check out Where the Sidewalk Ends and A Light in the Attic.  I almost always had to pay a fine because I returned them late!  Shel had a way of appealing to children and adults alike.  As a child, I spent hours at a time engrossed in the poems and weird pictures, especially admiring Sarah Cynthia Sylvia Stout, who wouldn't take the garbage out.  Now, as I read the poems aloud to my first graders, I realize how much of his message I never got as a child, but as an adult, I see and hear it loud and clear.

photo credit unknown

I get teary every time I read The Giving Tree aloud to my class, mostly because I want to instill a sense of giving and generosity toward others.  I believe if we all gave more, there would be fewer takers in the world. Sometimes you're the giver and sometimes you're the receiver.  If I didn't believe in this, I'd go nuts.

If we give to others we will not become destitute, wither, suffer, or die so long as we give only what we can. Unfortunately, I've fallen victim to scams in the past, as have many others.  I think twice about giving money to people who ask in parking lots or red lights, mostly because I don't trust that my very hard-earned money will be used the way I want it to be used, even though that is not in keeping with the true spirit of giving.  They look like they truly need help, though, so sometimes I help if I can.  Once, in a parking lot, I gave a family who made their teenage daughter approach people for food money my bunch of bananas that I had just purchased.  I didn't have any cash. I was given a dirty look in return.  I want to help those in need, homeless pets, pet shelters, the USO, the Red Cross, cancer and other disease fundraisers, and other charity organizations, especially when a natural disaster has just hit.  Sometimes we all need a little help.  Maybe I believe in Karma.  What if someday I'm the victim and nobody helps?   I like to think that my donation made someone's day.

Teachers often spend their own money on much needed items for the classroom.  I frequently stop by the dollar bin at Target for stickers, candy (gasp!), and trinkets.  I buy food items for cooking lessons, graham crackers for kids who never have a snack, books, hand sanitizer, and other non-essential items to make the day go better, make kids happy, and/or make my life a little easier during the day.  What's a few dollars here and there throughout the year, right?

I rationalize and justify it just like everyone else in this country.  It happens in every classroom, in every county, city, and state.  Who else in any other profession spends his/her own money on office supplies and other items related to the job?  The true cost of education is unknown because much of it is paid for by teachers. I justify my spending by telling myself that my classroom is my charity.  If only public schools were non-profit organizations, I could get a tax deduction.

photo credit unknown

In my district in California, teachers have not gotten a cost of living adjustment in 6 years.  Inflation applies to everything except our salaries.  This upcoming school year, we could face furlough days and the students could get deprived of 5 school days.  Fewer people are expected to do more for the same or less pay, and possibly, with less time.  To recap, schools are expected to not only educate all students in reading, writing, math, science, social studies, art, music, p.e., technology and character education according to the very stringent state standards, but also to have students master the standards in all these categories.  All (and that means every demographic) students must be "Proficient" in reading by 2014 (on the state standardized test) or else the school goes into "School Improvement" and is labeled as failing.  We are set up to fail.  And yet, here we are, still plugging along...teachers really must be the self-preserving, self-serving, every-man-for-himself kind of people some politicians make them out to be (sarcasm).  Don't even get me started on the anti-union issues arising all over this country.

Let's keep it simple.  Fund public education, (a bullet train? really?).  There are fantastic things going on in classrooms every day, in every town, in every single state in this country, in spite of cuts and negative publicity.  From my side of the fence, in my own classroom, my circle of influence, I do what I can to make this country a better place.  And I'm happy with that for now.

So, thank you, Shel Silverstein, for getting that and helping me laugh a little along the way!

photo credit unknown

The rug I want, and which was funded through DonorsChoose.org, has been shipped, thanks to the generous donations of family, friends, and Starbucks of California.

photo from Lakeshore Learning

Have You Ever Seen the Movie Ghostbusters?

I am asked a LOT of questions, but was asked this one for the first time in the fall...by a 7 year old first grader.  I wish I could tell you her name, but I'll call her Darling for blogging purposes-because she is darling.

Darling is the epitome of "little girl" on the outside.  She has long, mousy brown hair, an engaging, joyful smile to melt daddy's heart, a little squeaky voice that oozes innocence, the cutest outfits befitting little girls everywhere such as little skirts with leggings and flats, ruffles, t-shirts with cute little animal pictures, and a girly quilted coat for cold days that is forever falling off her shoulders as if she's wearing a mink stoll.  She's loving and kind, sweet to everyone, genuine and sincere, open with her heart, and everyone loves her.  She's the most joyful, unassuming child I've ever met and having her in my class this year has changed me.

Each day she wonders what we are going to do.  She arrives with such obvious excitement at the day's possibilities it changes everyone's mood to the better.  It never occurs to her to be negative or pessimistic.  She's the opposite of cynical and there is not a mean bone in her body.

I was first clued in to her personality in the fall, the very beginning of the school year, when she asked me, "Mrs. B?  Have you ever seen the movie, 'Ghostbusters?'"  The question came out of the blue, it's such an old movie (and an odd one for a child to have seen in 2011), it never occurred to me any student of mine would have seen it, much less ask if I had.  It obviously made an impression on her.

The three parapsychologists who start their own ghost catching business.

Another day, again in the morning before going into the classroom, she asked me if I'd seen "Pirates of the Caribbean."  Yes, I answered, "Did you like it, Darling?"

"Well, I just really like Johnny Depp."  Laughs knowingly...

Another day, "Have you ever seen "Edward Scissorhands?  It's about a man with scissors for hands!"  With her eyes widened and her teeth bared, she kind of scared me.  This "little girl" has a twisted sense of humor!

This isn't creepy at all...

At the library, where the students can check out one book a week, she sought out Goosebumps books (I've never read one, but it's a series of scary chapter books meant for third grade and up).  The next thing I know, she's asking me to read to the class a chapter book called Zombiekins, a book about a hybrid teddy bear/bunny rabbit zombie who commits havoc.  When we got into the about the third chapter, the third one in which NOBODY talked, a student muttered with a semi-scrunched up face, "This is getting kinda creepy," and some others agreed, so I set it on the shelf to read "later" and never picked it up again.

Don't expose him to moonlight!

Even my "angry little boy" liked Darling.  He never complained when she took her half of the table out of the middle, her butt and chair completely in his space.  He just accepted it and made do with what little space he got.  When he moved away, she hugged him good-bye and I knew she never saw his flaws.  I think he knew as well and was going to miss her.

Changing the subject, but keeping to what makes Darling so darling, is that she loves to eat.  It could be 8 in the morning and she'd be telling me her dinner plans.  She craves Panda Express's "egg rollers" and orange chicken (well, who doesn't?) and tells me every time her family is planning on going there and the next day I get to hear all about how good it was, subsequently, making me crave those delicious egg rollers.  Through her I find out about all the restaurant deals in town, "Mrs. B, did you know you can get a whole pizzaaaa, and saaaalad, and a soda for like, eight bucks?"  I often hear, "I wonder what we're going to have for dinner tonight!" at recess.

She heard about the talent show and remembered it from when she was in kindergarten last year.  She wanted to try out.  This was 3 months ago.  She didn't make it and upon hearing the news (begrudgingly from me), she got a genuinely shocked look on her face and asked, "Well, what happened?  I sang beautifully."  She didn't cry or pout.  She simply couldn't grasp that those crazy people didn't choose her for the talent show and it was their loss (plus the sucker she received taped to her rejection letter made it ok).  She wears her purple clip on tie she wore at try outs to school, now and then, and it looks just fine clipped to her Sparky t-shirt.

If more people on this earth were more like Darling, it would be a fantastic place...full of peace, love, chinese food, and pizza.  It would be run by baby animals and nobody would have hang-ups or baggage.  Our days would be filled with having fun, giving hugs, and writing I "heart" _____ on scrap paper.  We would all be tolerant of each other and accept ourselves for what we are:  imperfect human beings who make mistakes and who should get better at saying, "I'm sorry" and "Are you ok?"

Lastly, one day the staff had to spend time on the roof.  The deal was, if kids in grades 1-5 read 70,000,000 words (yes, that's million), we would get on the roof.  Seems silly but they did it!  And so did we!  I told the kids I was going to eat my lunch on the roof.  But on the day this would all go down, I forgot about it and didn't pack myself a lunch suitable for eating-on-the-roof enjoyment.  I had to microwave my Lean Cuisine.

I like Darling's title better.

I didn't want to carry a plate of Lean Cuisine up a ladder so I went up there for about 10 minutes, enough time for them all to see me as I waved (like a princess in a parade), then ate my lunch in the staff room like a normal teacher.  Darling asked me first thing..."What happened?  I thought you were going to eat your lunch on the roof?  Why didn't you eat your lunch on the roof????"  So I told her.  She looked at me like I had 3 heads and asked, "What's Queen Wuisine?"

Did I mention she has some speech issues?

Justin Bieber

I've been working really hard with a tough girl in my class who acts like a bully.  I believe, as always, that I must get her to change her ways before she leaves my class and goes on to the next teacher, or else I've failed. 

I'll call her Melissa.  She's friends with Aly, although I don't know why Aly wants to be her friend so badly, as Melissa is rarely nice to her.  Such tangled webs we weave...even at such a young age.

Melissa frequently has a frown on her face.  Her dark brown hair is not brushed, but not tangled either.  It just won't stay.  She's small in stature with dark brown eyes that give away her mood at first glance.  When she smiles, though, I'm reminded that she is just a little girl, trying to find her way like all the rest of them.

One day, as she walked out of the room to go to recess, I reminded her to be kind.  She and I have had numerous conversations about how to be a good friend and I've listened to her complaining about everyone else and how nothing is her fault.  I often feel like I'm wasting my breath but I can't give up, right?

The first morning recess, Melissa walked back to line smiling and chatting with another student.  I inwardly gave myself a high-five.  Something is getting through...ahhh, I'm so awesome.  We went in to do our math lesson.  Melissa continued to look like she was trying and her eyes told me she was open to new possibilities.  This was turning out to be a good day.

When I went to pick the kids up from lunch, though, she was in line sulking angrily.  When I asked what was the matter, she wouldn't tell me.  Sometimes I let it go, but this time was different, as something obviously really bothered her, and oh, Aly is also sulking.  Hmmm...

I got the two to my desk and asked what happened.  Melissa vehemently stated that Aly is LIAR!  Aly just looked at me.  I hate these accusations.  I resort to all kinds of tricks to get the truth, not really knowing if I ever get it.  I tell them I have eyes in the back of my head (but you can't see them because I have hair).  I tell them that adults can tell when a kid is not being truthful because they can see the sparks coming out of their eyes.  Kids can't see the sparks because their eyes are not fully developed yet.  The funny thing is, they believe me.  The best one of all, though, is to ask a question and just sit there with my mouth shut.  I'm great at standoffs.

So that's what I did.  Eventually one of them would fess up.  And eventually one did.

Melissa restated her complaint, "Aly is a liar!"

Me, "Why?  What did she say?"

Melissa crossed her arms and got quiet, frowny face.

So I did the same.

Aly, "I did not!"

Melissa, "Yes you did!" 

Me, "Melissa, I can't help you if you don't tell me what the problem is, why do you say she's a liar?"  Classic.  And oh, namecalling.

Melissa thought about it, "She said Justin Bieber is her brother!" 

I about choked on my laugh reflex and I think I coughed so as not to belittle her very serious accusation.

Aly, "Na uhhh, I said I was glad he's not my brother!" 

Melissa, "That is not what you said, you said Justin Bieber is your brother."  Now I have two liars lying to me.

What I wanted to do was ask why she's glad Justin Bieber isn't her brother..I mean, these things are the stuff of great blogs about first graders.  But there was a teachable moment here, so I snatched it and talked to Melissa about choosing her battles and to Aly about making up stories to get people to like her.

The girls made up and will live again to argue another day.

"I Wuv You, Mrs.B!"

"Mama says if you love someone you should say it, right then, otherwise the moment just passes you by."

Javier tells me nearly every day that he loves me. 

This little guy spends a half day with our Special Day Teacher and then comes to my class, with an aide, for the afternoon.  He's very sweet and innocent, and also very egocentric.

When I say egocentric, I don't mean it in a way a woman would describe a self-centered, arrogant man.  Young children are described as "egocentric" because it's part of development.  Do you remember that tiny bit of time from a 100 years ago, when all that ever occurred to you, or mattered to you, was your own immediate satisfaction?  As kids age, and around about 6, they begin to realize the world is a pretty big place and they start to learn that it doesn't, actually, revolve around them (most kids anyway!).

Javier is different.  He is still in this stage.  When he wants to turn in his homework, it must be right now.  The other day, a fellow teacher handed me his homework folder and explained that Javier was outside the classroom door, unsuccessfully turning and pulling with all his might on the locked door, trying to get in.  Another kid would have figured out that I wasn't there and turn it in later.

He has a hard time with structure, so when he wants a drink and I tell him no, he throws a fit.  Before he had an aide, he used to sit and cut his word sort into a million pieces, which made it look like it had snowed under his desk.  I'd tell him to stop cutting his paper into a million pieces, so he'd yell, "OK!" and then happily continue on as if I never said anything.

His impulsivity simultaneously gets him in trouble and is the cutest thing about him.  I sometimes envy his ability to live life in the moment.  He loves to play in the sandbox and sometimes throwing sand at that girl right there seems like it would be really fun...and the look on his face as he throws it is one of pure joy.  The second a thought enters his mind, it's acted on with no thought to the consequences, which is something that will not make him happy, but will, conversely cause him to bellow and cry, as it involves being removed from his favorite thing to do.  I, on the other hand, usually consider the consequences to nearly everything I do.  Should I just not show up to work today and see what happens?  Hmmm....let's not and say we did.

I don't let him get away with stuff.  Nobody at school does.  There are consequences to everything he does, including when he does make the right choices.  Lately, his aide has been rewarding him with smiley faces when he raises his hand to speak.  But when he shouts out, he gets one crossed out.  The same goes for when he deliberately, and seemingly innocently, walks straight through someone else's castle made of blocks.  Hey, it's fun destroying stuff!

"Sowry!"  He shouts, and expects to walk away as if "sorry" fixes everything.  Sometimes as he's apologizing, he's walking toward his next victim, seemingly on a castle destroying rampage a l`a Godzilla, complete with his favorite toy airplane in his hand.  The subsequent "logical consequence" is dolled out, but it's lost on him and only serves to make him cry for the moment.  It's mostly to keep an atmosphere of fairness for the kids who've suffered because of him.

Just when I'm at the end of my rope, he does something so completely sweet, it brings tears to my eyes. 

One day this week, for no apparent reason, my whole class was suffering from spring fever and were very...let's say, enthusiastic.  No amount of jogging laps put a dent in this enthusiasm.  In the afternoon, I'd had enough of one boy's constant laughing and wiggliness (I know, how could I?), I was reprimanding him, "If you keep messing around and don't settle down to do your job, you will turn a card," Javier wants to tell me he loves me, and does so, at the same time I am saying those words, he's saying, "Mrs. B, I wuv you...,  Mrs. B!  I wuv you...," (apparently irritated at my slow response), "I WUV YOU MRS.B," and has taken a swatch of my hair and is twirling it gently between his fingers, as the rest of the class looks on.

Deeeeeeeep breath......

...smile...

..and say, "Thank you, Javier, I love you, too."





 

Shall. We. Play. A. Game?

I adore my class. 

They try hard.  They really do.

They have so much fun, laugh, smile...

They have got to be the most uncoordinated, silly, and well-meaning kids I've had the privilege to teach yet.  This is what I like about them...they're just like me!

They love when I teach them games.  They have no idea they're really learning from the games, they're just happy they get to "play." 

For example...we play Stinky Feet, Dodgeball, Around the World, Collect 25 Cents, Money Memory, Sight Word Memory, Sight Word Go Fish, Double Compare (it's really War), Dot Addition, Addition Bingo, Subtraction Bingo, Time Bingo, (anything "bingo"), Speed Math, Highlighter Game, and a variety of card and dice games, all geared to get them to master the California State Standards.  I've learned that most anything can be turned into a game.  With this class, if I call a worksheet a game that I will let them play, they're all over it.  If it involves rolling dice, all the better.  It's just a matter of semantics.  Even walking in line quietly can be turned into a game.

I can't say I've invented these games myself, rather, most of them I've picked up along the way from other people.  I can say, however, that I've mastered the art of taking someone else's idea and tweaking it to fit my own needs. 

For instance, take Stinky Feet.  A colleague of mine introduced this game to us several years ago.  It helps kids master sight words by tying them to something gross-feet that stink!  How wonderful is that?  In fact, it's so fun, they can NOT play this game quietly, it's physically impossible.  The rules aren't even complex.  It consists of a shoe box with a hole in the top, sight word/spelling word cards, and "stinky feet" cards.  They pass the box around, pick a card, read it, show it, and everyone either agrees or disagrees with a thumbs up or down.  If a "stinky feet" card is pulled, everyone says, "p.u. stinky feet!" while pinching their noses in a supposed grossed out state.  Simple, right?  Not.  They're not particularly interested when it's someone else's turn so they will look at just about anything else, including the bottom of their shoes, instead of confirming for their friends that they read the word correctly.  They will also peak and try to get the stinky feet card!  Little stinkers.  This is war!  I took out most of the stinky feet cards...two can play this game!

Around the World is another game that they all clamour and beg to play, yet nobody really likes it when they have to wait their turn.  They all stand in a circle with me in the middle with a giant stack of sight word cards.  Two compete at a time and have to be the first to say the word I flash.  That person gets to advance to the next person in the circle.  If one person goes all the way around the circle (world), he/she wins!  Hardly anyone ever wins, but there's always hope.  In a blur of word after word flashing before their eyes, the messing around that ensues behind my back fades to the background.  I think that's the fun they associate with this game...imagine them all giggling and consorting behind me, totally believing that I have no idea what's going on. When I reprimand them without even turning around, it becomes silent again, I say something about the eyes in the back of my head, and we continue.




How NOT to play dodgeball in elementary school.

That brings me to another game that involves circles.  Dodgeball.  Elementary school dodgeball is supposed to be nice and is played with soft red balls.  No overhand throwing is allowed and the ball must hit below the belly button (that means below your butt, which is a whole other reason to get a giggle).  The kids in the middle are supposed to be aware of where the balls are (sometimes 2-4 balls at a time can be in play).   The first problem is that the circle that is painted on the blacktop is too big, which results in the second problem:  the concept of "spread out" is completely lost on first graders, which results in huge gaps and clusters of kids, all hoping/not hoping the ball comes to them.  Oh, also, kids are not supposed to run in front of someone to whom the ball is traveling and steal it so said kid can have yet another turn, while the timid kid who just needs a chance gets yet another chance to stand on the sidelines.  When this type of kid finally gets a ball, he/she stands there, holding it for 5 minutes, contemplating who should be tagged, then rolls it ever so carefully and consequently never tags anyone.  The third problem is when your class cannot get these simple rules down.  But as the game progress (if one can call a bunch of kids standing in a some kind of circle throwing balls and running around "progressing"), I realize that it doesn't really matter.  They're all laughing, trying, and having fun while exercising and learning to lose, learning to win, and learning to enjoy playing a game for the sake of playing a game.

There are so many games we play, I can't possibly detail them all, and you wouldn't want to read about every single one anyway, so I will end with BINGO.

Ah, bingo, what would the elementary school teacher do without you?  Students have become masters at creating bingo cards and pretty much know that one word/time/number goes in each box.  Still, there is always someone who asks if he/she should cover the free space (!).  Sometimes they play for a sticker, sometimes for a skittle (yes, one skittle is enough motivation), sometimes a stamp on the hand or "smelly sticker" (just flavored lip balm rubbed on their wrist like perfume), and sometimes for actual prizes. 

Yesterday we spent the afternoon playing Time Bingo.  The day before, they cut and pasted a variety of times (like what you'd see on a digital clock) onto a blank bingo card.  They played for leftover Halloween candy that I've had stashed, which I found the other day.  One child asked, "If we don't get bingo, do we all get a candy at the end?"  I answered, "Well, no, only kids who get bingo get a candy."  He accepted that good-naturedly and went back to his seat.  I, on the other hand, knew that every single one of them would get a prize.  I'm not that mean.  I'd pull a time piece out of my box, display that time on my clock and show it (think of the women in the middle of the boxing ring holding up the card that shows what round they're on-except I wasn't wearing a bare-all bikini), but I didn't say what time the clock was showing.  Nobody asked, nobody looked confused, so I kept going...maybe I taught this better than I thought.  Maybe I'm a awesome teacher!  Woohoo!!!



I showed the clock while they matched to the digital time.

In a little bit, a boy yelled Bingo!  He read off what he had covered and decided on a Tootsie Roll.  We played again, and again, someone yelled Bingo!  and chose a prize.  This was taking too long, so I declared that there will be NO MORE BINGOS UNTIL YOUR WHOLE BOARD IS FILLED.  It's called "blackout" bingo.  Does everyone understand?  Your entire board needs to be covered to get a bingo.  Yes, heads bobbed in affirmation, we understand. 

"Do NOT clear your board, we will just keep going from here." 

I said this at least 3 times.  I noticed that Sandy's board was empty and she looked confused and like she was about to cry.  I sensed an ominous foreboding...so in order to prevent a melt-down, I got her squared away and we continued. 

Someone yelled Bingo!  This person cannot have Bingo yet, as I haven't even filled my board (that I use to keep track of what has been called).  Once again, I smiled, "Your whole board must be completely filled to say bingo."  "Ooooohhhhhh!"  Now they understand.

Five minutes later, several students called bingo! and got a prize, my board is filled and I know that everyone should have said bingo by now.  Little worried faces gazed at me, pleading, because they MUST receive a piece of candy today and they must not be the only ones who lose...ever feel that way?  So.  To play along, I have each one tell me what they have left, I declare that, yes, that was indeed called, so get your candy!  Wow!  Everyone wins!

Shouldn't we all be playing more, working less?  I got to thinking on one of my commutes that if I approach more of life's challenges as a way to win a game, wouldn't it be a whole lot more fun and a whole lot less stressful?  While driving, I play a mental math game and try to estimate, based on driving speed, traffic conditions and prior knowledge what time I will arrive at school.  Driving is a game of cat and mouse, as I don't like when someone is in front of me at a stop light, so as I approach, I try to find a way of getting in front (this is NOT obnoxious at all).  Another favorite is one I play while I'm on Weight Watchers. I treat my food journaling like a game of How Much Food I Can Pack Into 26 Points a Day.  It's even more fun now that I have an iPhone and can do it with an app.

Don't even get me started on Angry Birds (Space is my fave), Draw Something, or Words with Friends (which I am losing)...I have a feeling these are the tip of the iceberg and will someday make their way into my classroom, adapted somehow in a way to get kids to learn. 

The possibilities are endless!

Hmmm...