Six year olds need to talk. If you think about it, they've only been talking since maybe 2 years of age, so they're experimenting and learning all the nuances of language, some better than others. They ALL need to talk to me first thing in the morning, "Mrs.B, have you ever seen that movie, 'Ghostbusters? Mrs. B, do killer whales like kids? Mrs. B, my homework is at my dad's house or in the car and we can't find it we looked everywhere. Mrs. B, can I get a drink? My TOOTH CAME OUT! Mrs. B, will you read Zombiekins today if we get all our work done? Mrs. B, I don't feel good......Mrs. B, we got a puppy! Mrs. B, I watched Ironman? with my dad? and I'm going to be Ironman for Halloween! Mrs. B, I didn't go trick or treating because I was scared."
I am not kidding, this is all at the same time, and I can't even remember all the other whacky tidbits of information I've been privy to over the years.
First Graders are hilarious. But I'm on to them with their tattling...I think. I've learned that when a child comes to me with a complaint, they're pretty much only telling me the parts that will make him or her look like the poor, innocent, wronged child they claim to be. Once the whole story comes out....
"Mrs. B, he threw sand at me in the sandbox and now I have sand in my eye and can I go to the office?"
"Who threw sand?"
"Buddy."
"On purpose?"
"Uh huh."
"Buddy, did you throw sand at her?"
"Well! She ruined my hole." (I guess that means yes)
"What hole?"
"The hole I worked on all recess and we were going to bury sticks and pretend they were bones and dig them up but she kicked in all the sand we dug out." At this point witnesses approach.
"Yeah! she did it! I saw her..."
"Nu uhhh! I was digging and sand accidentally flew into her face!" (how many times have I heard that one?)
"Stop." It's determined by me (the judge) that nobody is being kind and decide they could have behaved differently at the get-go. I never make anyone apologize, but suggestively say "What would you like to do to make it better?" Usually they all apologize and eventually get their eyes flushed.
No wonder we invented first grade sign language. There are days when I just can't hear another human being say "Mrs. B?"
We (teachers at my school) decided on signals to lessen the damage to our ears and to conserve our sanity. To ask to go to the bathroom, students merely cross their middle finger over their pointer finger. Urgency is conveyed by facial expression, holding of the crotch, or how close to your eyes the criss-crossed fingers are to your face, or a combination of these. The other day I was in the middle of a game when a girl silently walked up to me, one hand on crotch, eyes bugged out and eyebrows crinkled and slowly moved her crossed fingers to within an inch of my nose. Cross-eyed, I gave her permission with a nod.
The Quiet signal has morphed from two fingers held up in a "peace" sign to "Quiet Coyote" which is a variation of "hang loose" with pointer and pinky held up and thumb, middle and ring finger touching. It's always ironic to see a class (mine) walking in line with their Quiet Coyote signals up but sound like a herd of elephants. That's when I have to resort to desperate measures..."double silent signals!" To which half the class responds with both hands in the air, one with Quiet Coyote and one with a peace sign. Silence will last a good 30 seconds with this one. We're never getting the monkey...
There are a couple of different ways to respond with a "yes" or a "no." One hand in a fist that bobs up and down means "yes," so does a thumb up. "No" is a side-to-side shake of a hand with fingers straight, or a thumb down. The meaning of "silent" is usually lost, however, since these signals are usually accompanied with a spoken response.
My principal awards a San Francisco Giants rally monkey stuffed animal every Friday to the class that behaves in public, meaning whenever your class goes on campus beyond the classroom. You never know when she is going to be lurking in the halls, the library, the cafeteria, the playground, or even in the bathroom (so we tell the kids) so you BETTER BEHAVE if you want that monkey on Friday! I've wrapped up all the signals into one single encouraging phrase as in, "Let's walk in line Monkey-Style!" Then all their hands go up in Quiet Coyote, eyes face front, and lips are closed! At least for 30 seconds.
Keeping kids quiet is a lost cause. It's not human nature to be quiet all the time. Really, talking is how we all acquire any language. Have you ever tried to learn a second language? Speaking it is the hardest stage. So in a way, I'm glad my class is noisy sometimes, because that must mean they're learning.
It's just so funny when I actually tell them to talk... and not one word is spoken.
Saturday, November 5, 2011
Friday, November 4, 2011
Grandma
Grandparents. What would kids do without grandparents?
I, for one, have only one grandparent, my grandma, my mother's mother, and don't know how I would have turned out without having had her in my life. My father was adopted and his parents were already dead when I was born. My mother's father...who knows? As she lays in her nursing home, riddled with dementia and not knowing who I am, I wonder who she really is/was. She used to tell stories of her youth, her daddy, her mama, and of her life that spans 88 years and spent mostly in Signal Hill and Long Beach, CA, and Albequerque, New Mexico. She was the youngest of 5 children, grew up during the Depression, lived through World War II, and wholly and completely loved John F. Kennedy. She was watching the news when the Watergate story broke and when the Twin Towers fell. She told us about the love of her life, her fiance, who was a fighter pilot in World War II and was shot down and killed. She's had to say good-bye to too many life-long friends. Through it all, she had three daughters-my mother and my two aunts, 4 grandchildren and 3 great-grandchildren.
Grandparents are and always have been important figures in the lives of the young...meaning, anyone who is not as old as they are, even if said grandma is only in her 40s. I hope I never have to know what it's like first hand what my grandma experiences at her nursing home. I think if her old self saw how she is now she wouldn't have very nice things to say (because she never minced words). From what my mother and aunts tell me, they can't understand her unless she's cussing. Dementia has got to be the most evil disease anyone can suffer.
Grandma raised her 3 daughters and then helped raise her 4 grandchildren-my two cousins, my sister, and me in the 70s and 80s and continued to be a force to be reckoned with through the 90s and 2000s. She liked to remind everybody that she was not a "babysitter" but rather, one of our caregivers, and there's a difference. Grandma watched us while my mom was at work on the graveyard shift. I have many, many fond memories of those nights. Once, after she put us all to bed, she got to watching Laugh In, a 70s era comedy show where the contestant had to sit in a big overstuffed chair and try not to laugh at comedians. We snuck out of bed, crawled down the hall, and hid behind her chair. The ensuing, "YOU GIRLS GET BACK IN BED!" was all it took for us to haul butt back down the hallway, giggling hysterically the whole way. She didn't even get out of her chair.
She took us to Thrifty's for ice cream cones on a regular basis because "it's the best" and let us get a triple scoop. Oh, how I loved dessert time because that meant a big bowl of mint chip ice cream in front of the T.V. watching Merv Griffin or Lawrence Welk (I loved the Champagne Lady), or my favorite, The Dukes of Hazzard, after macaroni and cheese, hot dogs with ketchup, and salad with ranch. On separate occasions, she'd take us to Woolworth's to get a candy bar and wait ever-so-patiently as we hemmed and hawed about which one to get. It was a very difficult decision, as the candy selection was huge. She took us to pick out our birthday present and let us have it early. She had a Toyota Carina that was beige and had a bumper sticker that said, "I 'heart' my Grandkids," and made us all wear our seatbelts (remember when seatbelts were optional?) and would strap it around two of us at a time if she had to. If we got ready in time, she'd take us to school so we didn't have to ride the city bus, and if we argued with each other, she'd just yell and start flapping her hand in the general direction of the backseat and slap whoever was unlucky enough to be in the way.
She had a full-time job at Bank of America. She was a teller, then later, an escrow officer. She retired, but kept working as a teller and trained new tellers. She used to work at the branch on the Queen Mary, where we'd get to visit her. That's where I learned to count money. I used to count the pennies by twos for her, so she could close up. I loved visiting her there because we could go behind the counter! , and see the vault, and run around on the deck of that big ship and nobody said to stop.
My grandma is full of passion, especially for her grandkids and great-grandkids (my cousin's children). Her favorite gift was to receive photographs of us...us with a cat, us with a dog, us together, each of us separately with or without a pet, with our elementary school friends, high school friends, Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas, birthdays, and of every non-special occasion that ever was. She was the one who always had her camera at every single family function. Before she became unable to fully function, she was in the middle of having the slides her daddy took on his lonely road trips put onto compact discs. I would like to see those someday.
She also used to watch Mtv, even if we weren't sitting with her. She'd crochet a baby blanket and sing along to Duran Duran and Thompson Twins so she'd know what her grandkids were into. I still have the blankets she made me, and I always will.
There is a volunteer at my school who all the kids call "Grandma." She works in Kindergarten, so every student who has been through our Kindergarten knows who she is. I don't think she (or the kids) know what an indelible impression she's making on everyone. All she has to do is make herself visible and kids will run up shouting, "Grandma!" and hug her. She walks slowly, wears glasses, and hunches over, but the kids never have to be told to be gentle, they just are. She is stern but loving, and they respond.
A student in my class has a grandma who comes in to volunteer every Thursday. She provides, without even knowing it, that unconditional love and acceptance that comes with being a grandma. Kids who just met her want her attention, but don't beg for it, they wait their turn. Is it because they just know she will make the time? It's that "Grandma Vibe" that I'm talking about. She will do whatever I ask of her. She tears worksheets from 24 workbooks, she helps kids with math, and she helps students plant tulip bulbs in the garden. I only ask her to do things I believe she can physically handle, though. She even shows up, wheeling her walker, with homemade oatmeal cookies for the kids and zuccini bread for me.
I have so much more I could say about grandmas (sorry grandpas, I have no experience with you, unfortunately, although I'm positive you are just as dynamic and full of love as grandmas are) but this is a blog, not a book.
Give your grandma a hug!
My grandma passed away on Monday, January 7, very early in the morning. She was 89. She waited until my mom, who had been sitting with her all night for two nights in a row, to leave to take her last breath. We believe she could still understand us, as we'd get a reaction when we talked to her. I told her, over my mom's iPhone speaker, that I love her and not knowing what else she wanted to hear so she could finally let go, I told her that none of us do drugs, smoke, and we all eat healthy. We all have jobs and are happy in our lives. She started to moan something with three syllables. I want to believe she was saying, "Jennifer, Jennifer, Jennifer" or "I love you, I love you, I love you." We've since been scanning old photos like crazy to put on our shared website so I can make a photo book filled with our stories and remembrances of her. She was a powerful figure in our lives and will continue to be until my dying day.
Saturday, August 13, 2011
It's Always Something...
Two weeks ago I discovered that I didn't know where my new pair of shorts were. I thought it was odd, didn't really think much of it because I figured they'd turn up. After all, how does one lose a pair of shorts? It's not like I have so many items of clothing that I lose track. Most people "lose" their keys, their phone, their glasses, or everyday items that they've simply misplaced and find eventually. There aren't even that many places a pair of shorts can go. So after not finding them, I gave up, again figuring they'd turn up sometime.
It was time to start thinking about going back to school/work, so I went on with life. I lose things all the time in my classroom. Again, there are only so many places thing can go, but still, I lose something on a daily basis. Each year before school starts, teachers must spend time in their classrooms dismantling the pile of furniture, instructional materials, and the plethora of educational materials that were heaped on top so the carpets can get cleaned and the floors waxed. Book shelves must be hefted into place and books unpacked and placed in the proper spot. Desks and tables must be placed around the room with traffic patterns in mind. The reading corner complete with a cute rug, cushions, stuffed animals, and of course, books, is set up. Cabinets are re-organized and whatever I don't want anymore, gets put into the "up for grabs" pile. My own desk and work station must feel put together or else I can't even begin to think about planning and preparing lessons....and I try really hard not to make my CPU fall off my desk and crash to the floor. It's Always Something.
After 17 years of teaching, I can put a classroom together (mostly) in a 6.75 hours long day, mostly because I know where my stuff needs to go. That's just the beginning, though. Once the physical stuff is where I want it, educational posters and learning aides need to go up on the walls, but can't cover more than 25% of the wall space per the fire marshall (anyone ever heard of a literacy-rich environment?). It's Always Something.
And speaking of bookshelves. When the furniture got moved the little pegs that hold up the shelves fell out of their holes, which of course, I couldn't find anywhere. I had two and needed two. I searched some drawers and gave up, and put it on the list of more stuff to buy. It was bugging me that I couldn't get this particular task done until I had the pegs, so I went to Main St. to the hardware store to get some. After circling Main St. several times for a spot to park, I finally got one. A very nice helpful man climbed a ladder to get a package of pegs for me and I proceeded to check out. In front of me was a woman and an employee hunched over a receipt, puzzled. They continued on in their confused state for 5 minutes when all I wanted was to pay and leave. She finally turned to me and asked, "Are you buying those?" I clamped my sarcastic mouth shut and smiled. When I finally returned, I ripped open the package gleefully in anticipation of getting this job off my back only to find the pegs were too big for the holes. It's Always Something.
I had started to lose my mind over the Missing Shorts. I looked everywhere in the house...the dirty clothes basket, the towels basket, the washer, dryer, the closets, under the bed, on the floor, in luggage, even in the freezer, everywhere! Still no shorts.
Last year I had a student teacher. While she did her thing, I spent the time organizing my file cabinets and threw so much away I had more space to put more stuff! There was room for teacher books IN the file cabinet, so I put a lot of books away in there so I'd find them easier. When I went to get my Positive Action (character ed.) teacher's manual yesterday, I couldn't find it in the usual place and didn't remember seeing it when I was putting the room together. Evil thoughts entered my mind, "Someone came in here and stole my PA manual" (yeah, right). As my frustration grew, I decided to put an email out to ALL Sierra Teachers reading, "I'm missing my Positive Action TM. It's a black spiral bound book and I use it all the time. If you find it, it's mine!" Not 3 seconds later I turned my head and looked at the file cabinet drawer, thought, "oh....$hit," opened it, and there it was, right in front. I went right back to email and apologized for being a spaz. I'm so organized, I don't know where anything is. It's Always Something.
So, my car hadn't been washed all summer long and was covered in bird poop and dead bugs. I backed it out of the garage and my husband and I went to work. When it was time to dry, I entered the garage to get some towels and wondered what that blob on the floor was. Can you guess?
As Gilda Radnor said in her many hilarious circa 1970's SNL skits, "It's alwaaaaaays suumetheeeng...." It truly is, as a teacher especially. Whether the obstacle is minor, like a shelf peg, or major, like unfunded mandates, obstacles are obstacles and to the person they're getting in the way of, any size can seem daunting. The next time I am frustrated by the minutia of life, I will try to take a breath, analyze the situation objectively, and make a rational plan of action.
The first day of school is the day after tomorrow! I sure hope I thought of everything.
Oh, crap! Where's my other shoe?!
It was time to start thinking about going back to school/work, so I went on with life. I lose things all the time in my classroom. Again, there are only so many places thing can go, but still, I lose something on a daily basis. Each year before school starts, teachers must spend time in their classrooms dismantling the pile of furniture, instructional materials, and the plethora of educational materials that were heaped on top so the carpets can get cleaned and the floors waxed. Book shelves must be hefted into place and books unpacked and placed in the proper spot. Desks and tables must be placed around the room with traffic patterns in mind. The reading corner complete with a cute rug, cushions, stuffed animals, and of course, books, is set up. Cabinets are re-organized and whatever I don't want anymore, gets put into the "up for grabs" pile. My own desk and work station must feel put together or else I can't even begin to think about planning and preparing lessons....and I try really hard not to make my CPU fall off my desk and crash to the floor. It's Always Something.
After 17 years of teaching, I can put a classroom together (mostly) in a 6.75 hours long day, mostly because I know where my stuff needs to go. That's just the beginning, though. Once the physical stuff is where I want it, educational posters and learning aides need to go up on the walls, but can't cover more than 25% of the wall space per the fire marshall (anyone ever heard of a literacy-rich environment?). It's Always Something.
And speaking of bookshelves. When the furniture got moved the little pegs that hold up the shelves fell out of their holes, which of course, I couldn't find anywhere. I had two and needed two. I searched some drawers and gave up, and put it on the list of more stuff to buy. It was bugging me that I couldn't get this particular task done until I had the pegs, so I went to Main St. to the hardware store to get some. After circling Main St. several times for a spot to park, I finally got one. A very nice helpful man climbed a ladder to get a package of pegs for me and I proceeded to check out. In front of me was a woman and an employee hunched over a receipt, puzzled. They continued on in their confused state for 5 minutes when all I wanted was to pay and leave. She finally turned to me and asked, "Are you buying those?" I clamped my sarcastic mouth shut and smiled. When I finally returned, I ripped open the package gleefully in anticipation of getting this job off my back only to find the pegs were too big for the holes. It's Always Something.
I had started to lose my mind over the Missing Shorts. I looked everywhere in the house...the dirty clothes basket, the towels basket, the washer, dryer, the closets, under the bed, on the floor, in luggage, even in the freezer, everywhere! Still no shorts.
Last year I had a student teacher. While she did her thing, I spent the time organizing my file cabinets and threw so much away I had more space to put more stuff! There was room for teacher books IN the file cabinet, so I put a lot of books away in there so I'd find them easier. When I went to get my Positive Action (character ed.) teacher's manual yesterday, I couldn't find it in the usual place and didn't remember seeing it when I was putting the room together. Evil thoughts entered my mind, "Someone came in here and stole my PA manual" (yeah, right). As my frustration grew, I decided to put an email out to ALL Sierra Teachers reading, "I'm missing my Positive Action TM. It's a black spiral bound book and I use it all the time. If you find it, it's mine!" Not 3 seconds later I turned my head and looked at the file cabinet drawer, thought, "oh....$hit," opened it, and there it was, right in front. I went right back to email and apologized for being a spaz. I'm so organized, I don't know where anything is. It's Always Something.
So, my car hadn't been washed all summer long and was covered in bird poop and dead bugs. I backed it out of the garage and my husband and I went to work. When it was time to dry, I entered the garage to get some towels and wondered what that blob on the floor was. Can you guess?
As Gilda Radnor said in her many hilarious circa 1970's SNL skits, "It's alwaaaaaays suumetheeeng...." It truly is, as a teacher especially. Whether the obstacle is minor, like a shelf peg, or major, like unfunded mandates, obstacles are obstacles and to the person they're getting in the way of, any size can seem daunting. The next time I am frustrated by the minutia of life, I will try to take a breath, analyze the situation objectively, and make a rational plan of action.
The first day of school is the day after tomorrow! I sure hope I thought of everything.
Oh, crap! Where's my other shoe?!
Monday, July 25, 2011
School Supply Shopping
I was actually kind of excited to make the trip to Lakeshore Learning in Roseville, even though I was going alone. I needed gas, so I went out of my way to go to Costco. No Costco card...Daniel has it. I'm mad he didn't give it back to me, so I text him. He's says, no, it's on the dresser. That doesn't really help me, I'm not home...But Chevron was right around the corner, but I'm a little on edge because it's not in the best part of town.
My first stop was Ikea to check if they still have those cool crayon "toolboxes" I saw last year. Upon driving into the parking lot at 9:35, I discover they don't open until 10:00 (crap!). I have to pee and am a bit hungry so I take care of that and go to the cafeteria. The family of 5 in front of me can't make up their minds, finally order the "big breakfast" (all of them), the server runs out of potatoes, has to go get more, ok. My turn. I order a small side of french toast. The said family of 5 in front of me is now deciding what they want to drink....coffee? water? What do you want, Honey? When they finally get out of my way, I pay my $3 for a soda and my french toast. The family of 5 is now deciding what soda they want from the soda fountain, which is not functioning properly and has no ice (the soda cost more than my french toast). The mom actually took pity on me and told me to go first. So I sit down at a table with my iceless (diet) soda and 5 french toast sticks, which are now cold as ice. *sigh* At least I made my purchases without further ado, except I wanted everything I saw at Ikea and the bed frame we bought 2 years ago is now $100 less...
So I head off to Lakeshore Learning, the most awesome store for teacher, parents, and kids. Oops! (not the actual word I used). There's a CHP radar-gunning people! How fast am I going?!? Relieved, I realize that I was smart and utilized my cruise control. Whew!
I over spent at Lakeshore but that all went pretty well, too. My next stop was the Bead Shoppe. I was very disciplined and only bought what I came to get, even though I really, really, really wanted the beautiful opal briolettes for half off... I can't get out of the parking lot because there's a bizarre number of big rigs blocking me. I finally find my way out only to end up nose to nose with a UPS truck. Geez! (again, not the actual word I used).
Once on the freeway, nobody is even going the speed limit of 65 mph and I can't get around anybody. When I finally do, the big rig on my right showers my newish car with baby bits of gravel (sounds like hail, but it's GRAVEL).
I had another stop to make, but I decided to call it quits. I'm home now and have not checked for damage to my car because I'm not ready for that yet. Will check when I venture out to go grocery shopping...
My first stop was Ikea to check if they still have those cool crayon "toolboxes" I saw last year. Upon driving into the parking lot at 9:35, I discover they don't open until 10:00 (crap!). I have to pee and am a bit hungry so I take care of that and go to the cafeteria. The family of 5 in front of me can't make up their minds, finally order the "big breakfast" (all of them), the server runs out of potatoes, has to go get more, ok. My turn. I order a small side of french toast. The said family of 5 in front of me is now deciding what they want to drink....coffee? water? What do you want, Honey? When they finally get out of my way, I pay my $3 for a soda and my french toast. The family of 5 is now deciding what soda they want from the soda fountain, which is not functioning properly and has no ice (the soda cost more than my french toast). The mom actually took pity on me and told me to go first. So I sit down at a table with my iceless (diet) soda and 5 french toast sticks, which are now cold as ice. *sigh* At least I made my purchases without further ado, except I wanted everything I saw at Ikea and the bed frame we bought 2 years ago is now $100 less...
So I head off to Lakeshore Learning, the most awesome store for teacher, parents, and kids. Oops! (not the actual word I used). There's a CHP radar-gunning people! How fast am I going?!? Relieved, I realize that I was smart and utilized my cruise control. Whew!
I over spent at Lakeshore but that all went pretty well, too. My next stop was the Bead Shoppe. I was very disciplined and only bought what I came to get, even though I really, really, really wanted the beautiful opal briolettes for half off... I can't get out of the parking lot because there's a bizarre number of big rigs blocking me. I finally find my way out only to end up nose to nose with a UPS truck. Geez! (again, not the actual word I used).
Once on the freeway, nobody is even going the speed limit of 65 mph and I can't get around anybody. When I finally do, the big rig on my right showers my newish car with baby bits of gravel (sounds like hail, but it's GRAVEL).
I had another stop to make, but I decided to call it quits. I'm home now and have not checked for damage to my car because I'm not ready for that yet. Will check when I venture out to go grocery shopping...
Sunday, June 12, 2011
Nothing
Teachers look forward to summer like kids look forward to Christmas. For as long as I can remember, well, since I started Kindergarten, I've had this cycle of having summer off then starting fresh in September, except for when I was in college, during which time I still had to work. Even that was still a break from academics...all I had to do was wait tables, not pass any tests or write any papers. Just earn tips. Easy.
School's been out now for exactly 2 weeks. I have yet to sit around all day doing nothing. Since that's what I fantasize about all year long, you'd think that would be the first thing I'd do. Nothing, blessed, peaceful nothing. But that's proving to be a challenge. Friends ask me what I'm going to do all summer, to which I reply with a shrug of my shoulders, mostly because I feel like the possibilies are endless. But they're not. Ten weeks is a lot of time and it isn't a lot of time. In June, 10 weeks stretches out in front of me like the view from atop a mountain. In August, it's just a memory, and I find myself wondering where summer went.
I know how to pack in the memories, though. Sitting around is nice, but it's not all it's cracked up to be. A person can only watch so many reruns and see so many movies...Yeah, I drove 778 rt miles to see a rocket launch and it didn't pan out. But now I can say, "Remember that time...?"
In the past two weeks, I've been to Utah, Las Vegas, and Lompoc. I watched my nephew graduate from high school, met my new 4 month old niece, visited with family, saw dinosaur tracks and a Vegas show, hiked in some very beautiful places, heard (due to fog) a rocket launch, and ate Danish pancakes. I've read two books and seen two movies. I've taken all the pets to the vet on two separate visits and had to euthanized my cat, but found out my 12 year old dogs are healthy. I suffered a muscle spasm in my neck. I took another jewelry making class and have thought about opening a store on Etsy. It goes on and on and on....the chores alone make me wonder how it is possible for me to even have a full time job.
Yet summer means more than "doing nothing." It's time to do what I want to do, without the restrictions of a schedule or a commute. Today I can make choices.
Today I choose to do Nothing... later.
School's been out now for exactly 2 weeks. I have yet to sit around all day doing nothing. Since that's what I fantasize about all year long, you'd think that would be the first thing I'd do. Nothing, blessed, peaceful nothing. But that's proving to be a challenge. Friends ask me what I'm going to do all summer, to which I reply with a shrug of my shoulders, mostly because I feel like the possibilies are endless. But they're not. Ten weeks is a lot of time and it isn't a lot of time. In June, 10 weeks stretches out in front of me like the view from atop a mountain. In August, it's just a memory, and I find myself wondering where summer went.
I know how to pack in the memories, though. Sitting around is nice, but it's not all it's cracked up to be. A person can only watch so many reruns and see so many movies...Yeah, I drove 778 rt miles to see a rocket launch and it didn't pan out. But now I can say, "Remember that time...?"
In the past two weeks, I've been to Utah, Las Vegas, and Lompoc. I watched my nephew graduate from high school, met my new 4 month old niece, visited with family, saw dinosaur tracks and a Vegas show, hiked in some very beautiful places, heard (due to fog) a rocket launch, and ate Danish pancakes. I've read two books and seen two movies. I've taken all the pets to the vet on two separate visits and had to euthanized my cat, but found out my 12 year old dogs are healthy. I suffered a muscle spasm in my neck. I took another jewelry making class and have thought about opening a store on Etsy. It goes on and on and on....the chores alone make me wonder how it is possible for me to even have a full time job.
Yet summer means more than "doing nothing." It's time to do what I want to do, without the restrictions of a schedule or a commute. Today I can make choices.
Today I choose to do Nothing... later.
Sunday, April 10, 2011
Letting Go
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?
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?
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.
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