Superheroes don't cry

I didn't cry when I found out I'd be outside in one of the trailers (or the Quad as we call our set of four) this year because I know from experience about all the benefits. Being out in the Quad is a bit of a paradox because it both brings people together and keeps people away at the same time. Living in the quad is like having roommates again--you can keep the doors open and talk across the classrooms without much effort. Because of this, it's pretty impossible not to become close with your quadmates--And it's good to have close friends (your Quad Squad) because no one else will venture outside the main building to come visit you ever. Which, honestly, is also kind of nice because no one is going to bother you with a tour of the school or a pop in-visit when you are in the middle of a lesson.

As long as I'm imagining the superhero headquarters of the Quad Squad, here are some other amazing features: I'm able to staple anything and everything directly to the walls. I imagine myself with a holster slung around my hip and one stapler drawn in each hand.  Mrs. Kelly, fastest draw in the Quad! Also, I have control over my own thermostat! In the main building, we are subjected to the temperature of the day that can vary from freezing to sweltering and I used to keep an extra layer slung over the back of my chair for options. Mrs. Kelly, who wears a sweater only when she wants to! Yes, proximity to the bathroom and inclement weather means planning ahead, but I was already scrolling online for new pair of Hunter boots. Mrs. Kelly and her stylish wellies!

I didn't cry when I learned that the map changed and I would be sharing my classroom with another resource teacher. I get it--after being a classroom teacher for 13 years, I'm switching to a new role and I'm prepared to be flexible. I didn't cry--but I do admit to being surprised and slightly irritated when I learned of the new map via the summer update email. Lucky for me, my new roomie is also a superhero bundle of energy and fun and we worked hard all day Monday to unpack.  ESOL and AART, able to transform a massive pile of furniture, boxes and crates into a shared learning community in a single afternoon!

I didn't cry when I learned on Wednesday evening that the map changed again and my roomie and I were moving out of our spacious digs into a smaller, windowless workroom in our Pod. I mean, at least Pod still rhymes with Squad, right? And being back in the main building, think of all the money I'll save not shopping for new rain boots! So Thursday afternoon we spent packing our boxes, rolling up our rug, and debating about furniture as we prepared to downsize. If I did shed a tear, it would have been for our incredible custodial staff with superpower strength and extra thick back braces who moved an endless supply of furniture throughout the week. And Friday we spent the morning unpacking again, making our space happy again. AART and ESOL, able to unpack twice in one week and still be prepared to welcome students on Monday!

I didn't cry on Friday afternoon when the dust settled and the boxes were broken down and I could finally turned my attention to my week ahead. I printed out my list of ESOL students. I picked up my calendar and made the rounds to teachers, scheduling times to meet with individual students, join team planning meetings, visit classrooms. I have a total of 91 students to meet--seven different grade levels, 22 different classroom teachers--and I'm smiling! I can't wait to meet all these beautiful faces next week and begin to build relationships with them. I can't wait to learn more about them and learn how I can most effectively meet their needs. I'm thrilled to work with so many amazing teachers and hope I can be helpful to them.  At our opening kickoff, our new superintendent shared a favorite quote, "The main thing is to keep the main thing the main thing," and my main thing is our students. Mrs. Kelly, able to say "main thing" four times in a single sentence!

So, when I returned to my new happy place with my new roommate and my new schedule, I was unprepared for an email from my principal. "Currently we do not have a teacher for the fourth grade classroom...we will need you teaching in the fourth grade classroom until we find a teacher or a substitute..." 

I get it. And don't get me wrong, I don't mind. After all, the main thing is our students. One of the things I love about the staff at our school is our sense of collective responsibility--they aren't your students or my students but we all have a stake. I'm happy to help. But after overcoming so many challenges to be prepared for next week, I suddenly felt completely unprepared for next week. On Friday afternoon at 2:30. I didn't feel like a superhero, able to transform from an ESOL teacher into a 4th grade teacher in a single bound. And I cried. Then I blew my nose in a tissue, and went down to visit the 4th grade classroom teachers who had already prepped everything for me.  I sat with the instructional coach and she helped me map out a plan for team teaching.  Everyone was helpful and thoughtful and kind and patient while my totally unspontaneous mind processed the change. "I'm sorry I cried," I told my superhero roomie. "That's OK, I cried earlier when we were packing up for the second time," she told me. "I'm sorry I cried," I told the teacher across the hall. "Hey, don't worry. I cry all the time," she responded.

And that's when I realize superheroes do cry. Because we're super humans and we care about ourselves and others, and just because we're super doesn't mean we're not sometimes disappointed or angry or grieving. Sometimes we use our capes to dry our eyes and sometimes we use our capes to fly and sometimes we put our capes in the laundry and have a glass of wine. 

So cheers to all the teachers starting school this year! I know you will take on more than humanly possible and still get it all done. Most important, you will make a difference in the lives of our students. Cape or no cape, cry or no cry, that's the main thing.

My superhero roomie

Smoke Alarms and Flip Flops

I took the day off today and by “off” I mean pack lunches/ physical therapy/ school sub plans/ eye doctor/ bank/ oil change/ grocery store/ clean house/ respond to work emails/ laundry/ unload dishwasher/ take Katherine to dentist/ drop off and pickup Katherine from cross country/ cook dinner/ clean kitchen/ plan lessons. It felt SO GOOD!

As this is my 10^th year balancing teaching with parenting, the challenges of September are not new to me. (Remember September vs. Allison?) And as much as I try to prepare, each year’s challenges are unique. This year, I have 29 amazing fifth graders to love. The good news: to help support all the different levels and learning styles, our class qualifies for two special education teachers and an ESOL teacher. The bad news: these three positions have yet to be hired. This is out of my control, so I just keep doing what I can do, one day at a time.

I love this bunch!

I spend a lot of time trying to balance work and home and I distract myself thinking about it all. Last week I drove to Physical Therapy to run and realized I was still wearing my flip flops. This week I tried to get a jump start on dinner by roasting a chicken while preparing for work. I opened the oven to check in and a huge poof of smoke came billowing out. “Please don’t set off the smoke alarm,” I thought as I started frantically fanning the cloud.

Beeeeeeeep, beeeeeep.   Too late.

So, when Paul ran out to the kitchen at 6:00 am to find me in my PJs waving dishtowels in the air, I could only turn, smile, and say, “Dinner’s ready!”

One of my teammates is back at work this September for the first time since having a baby. It’s not easy. “I just feel like a failure,” she mentioned as she stuffed her bag full of papers that needed grading. “I don’t understand how everyone else does this.”

Pssst—here’s our secret. We don’t. We try, but we end up burning chicken and running in flip flops. We make choices and prioritize. Sometimes that means eating Fritos and a candy bar for dinner so we’re not late to our son’s game. Sometimes it means falling asleep at 8:00 pm instead of folding laundry. We support each other and we laugh and we drink too much coffee and too much wine.  We lose ourselves in the moments that really matter--with our students, our families, and friends.

And sometimes, we take a “sick” day to stay healthy.

Does grilled cheese = better sex?

The other day my friend Christie invited me to a party because her husband wrote a book. I thought, "Yay, I love parties!" I did not think, "Oh, I should go read the book." Because Christie's husband is a PhD in econometrics. He is an expert in the use and interpretation of data and he wrote a book about just that...data.

So, yeah. Not very high on my reading list. Only then I started to feel guilty. There's no way Christie would know I was at her party for the cosmos and the conversations with no intention of reading the book but I'm such a rule follower that I just couldn't do it. I bought the book. I figured I'd skim through it enough to throw out a few strategically placed comments showing I was a book supporter and not just there for the free food.

I had no idea I would actually LOVE the book. I would never have predicted that reading about data would be so enjoyable, informative, and laugh out loud funny! I read it cover to cover last week, as my family can attest, because I kept talking about it at every family dinner. In every chapter, I made connections--to the examples, the stories, the information.  I think people are constantly trying to make sense of data--they want to draw conclusions that connect with their own individual stories.

As a teacher, I made connections from the book to my own career. In one chapter, the book talks about the importance of looking at data in context. Based on the example in the book, I gave three groups of fifth graders the following made-up information: The first group was only told that a fire department's average response time was 5 minutes in April. The second group was told the response times for all 12 months. The third group was told the response time for other county's departments. They quickly realized that it was easier to interpret the data when they had more information. We then compared this to reading unfamiliar words in context--they loved the activity! And did you know the process of making statistical conclusions about the data is called drawing an inference? Fifth graders make inferential conclusions about their reading as well.

EVERYDATA is full of hundreds of interesting examples, everything from what caused the Challenger explosion to answering the question, "Do people who eat grilled cheese sandwiches really have better sex?" It explains the concepts of applied statistics in an easy to read manner that will leave you confident in your ability to discern between correlation and causation.

Last night at the party I confessed to John (one of the authors) that I began reading the book with low expectations, but ended up loving it. I mentioned that I thought my dad would love the book and that it would make a great Father's Day gift and John agreed. So, John, now I can officially say,

"100% of dads surveyed think EVERYDATA would make a great Father's Day gift."

Just don't ask me about my sample size.

Be Very Afraid

Be extra kind to all the teachers you know over the next few weeks. The end of October brings something even scarier than Halloween. It's the dreaded END OF FIRST QUARTER.

We are afraid...very, very afraid.

Instead of carving pumpkins, we're carving out time to add 25 report cards to our list of things to do. Instead of trick-or-treaters, we hear parents knocking on our door for a conference. Instead of creating costumes, we're busy creating and entering first quarter data for our school ghouls, oops, I mean goals.

But unlike the Legend of Sleepy Hollow, the overwhelmed feeling teachers experience at this time of year has been spotted by eye witnesses.  Look at this graph showing the phases of teacher attitudes throughout the year.

Teachers often set their sights on surviving September.  Then, October hits and we realize--ha, we were fooling ourselves--it is just as busy this month. New teachers often feel the phase of disillusionment the hardest.  They don't have the perspective of the whole year to help them remember, "This too shall pass."

Teachers, if you are feeling disillusioned, don't despair. You are not alone. Here are some tricks that have helped me ease the pain:

Focus on what you ARE getting done.  Self talk is very persuasive so if you tell yourself, "I'm overwhelmed and I don't have enough time," you will feel overwhelmed.  Instead, try saying to yourself, "I am having a productive day and making progress."  And if that doesn't work, look in a mirror like Stuart Smalley and say, "I'm good enough, I'm smart enough, and, doggonit, people like me."

Plan some small breaks for yourself. Listen to your favorite song, go for a walk, just step outside your classroom and breathe deep breaths. It's OK to skip dinner prep and order a pizza...wait, that's every day in my house.

Don't try to do it all. Let your family know that this is crunch time. We give tax accountants a break in April, right? Teachers need a little TLC right now. Paul knows that he's on carpool duty this week.  He is also a very excellent pb & j maker.  Flowers and Starbucks are common gifts this time of year.  You can tell he is the experienced spouse of a teacher! When you talk with your fellow teachers, don't spiral down the black hole of complaining, but support each other.

Most of all, hang in there. Thanksgiving will come.  I promise.


Stuart Smalley's famous quote
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6ldAQ6Rh5ZI

More information about phases of teacher attitudes:
http://www.newteachercenter.org/blog/phases-first-year-teaching

My New Job

This summer, I will receive my Endorsement in Gifted Education from UVA's Curry School of Education. In the fall, I will leave my position teaching third grade in the Advanced Academic Program (AAP) to teach fifth grade in a general education classroom.

Wait, what? Why would I want to leave the gifted program when I am officially certified to teach in it? Why would I want to leave a curriculum I know and a team I love? This is my third year teaching in the AAP at my school. Over the past few semesters, as I took the graduate classes and learned the gifted strategies, I kept thinking, "These aren't strategies to teach just gifted kids--these are good teaching strategies for all kids." Although many teachers I know share this belief, not all do.

I remember one particular Back-To-School night. I am sitting in a junior high classroom trying to listen as Jack's teacher shares how he uses guided notes in class. "Every unit I give them a new packet," he explains. "The kids read the text and then fill in the key ideas. It's basically like a fill in the blank." My attention wanders to the back of the room where the desks are turned on their sides and piled up across the tile in a line. Curiosity gets the best of me so I raise my hand.

"What are all those desks for?" I ask.

"Oh, that's from my honors section," the teacher replies. "They are doing a simulation activity building World War 1 trenches."

So my son, who loves to be social and hates to sit still, is in the general education program. He gets to sit at a desk and fill out a packet while the gifted kids act out trench warfare? That didn't seem fair.

Luckily, not all of Jack's teachers are like this. In grades 3-6, Jack was enrolled in the general education program and every single teacher he had was amazing. They made learning meaningful and fun and he loved Ms. Butler, Mrs. Kight, Mr. D and Ms. Tang! More important than the curriculum, each of these teachers was able to see in Jack a smart kid with a good sense of humor and a kind heart. Each of these teachers believed in him, and in turn, Jack believed in himself.  The thought that a student’s reality can be positively or negatively influenced by the expectation of his teacher is supported by research. The Rosenthal-Jacobson study showed that if teachers expected enhanced performance from children, then the children’s performance rose—it’s sort of the Pygmalion effect in the classroom. “When we expect certain behaviors of others, we are likely to act in ways that make the expected behavior more likely to occur,” (Rosenthal and Babad, 1985).

Unfortunately, for some, the general education program has a stigma attached to it and the expected behaviors are not ideal. As an example, another memory I have is high school information night. An English and History teacher are talking about a combined class they teach. I was enthralled as they spoke about how they work together to integrate the time period they are studying with the literature they are reading. What a great idea! "We offer this class for our Honors sections," one teacher told us.

"This sounds fascinating," I told the teacher. "Would you ever consider offering this class in the general education program?"

"No, those kids are too disruptive," she responded. (Those kids? Why does she think I am asking? Does it even occur to her that I have one of those kids?)

In some classrooms, a real disparity exists in the quality of education for “honors” and "gen ed" students. Maybe that's why I think I belong in a general education classroom. I want the chance to offer the students a quality education and for my students to know that I expect that they will succeed.  Maybe that's why I'm willing to leave my comfort zone of a great team and known curriculum to make this switch. It might sound crazy, but I feel a strong pull in my heart that this is where I'm supposed to be.

 So, in September, 5GE, here I come. We'll be learning a new curriculum together. We'll have adventures at Camp Highroad together. We'll take risks and make mistakes and learn and grow as a community together. We're going to have an amazing year and I believe in you!

Whole School Field Trip

Rule number one: stay WITH your chaperone. Rule number two: BE flexible.

I admit to being a little nervous about our whole school field trip on Friday. I mean, every student, teacher and chaperone in our school adds up to over 1,000 people setting out to hike in the woods.  The odds are, something won't go according to plan. (I think I was probably reminding myself to be flexible with rule number two!)

Our bus dropped us off in a parking lot at Wolf Trap National Park for the Performing Arts. I've been here many times--it's a great venue for a summer concert on the lawn at the Filene Center or to take the kids to a puppet show at Theatre in the Woods. All these years, I never realized it was actually 117 acres of national park land, complete with several hiking trails. 

So, here we are in the parking lot. At this point, multiple grade levels are supposed to access the trails at various starting points and different directions to help spread us all out. (Can you imagine 1,000 of us hiking together? Neither could Wolf Trap...it took a while before they would return our principal's calls when we were planning the trip!) Where is third grade supposed to go? I look around in vain for the rest of my  team but my bus seems to have parked by several fifth graders. You all know I have a horrible sense of direction. I will insist I drove over the Woodrow Wilson Bridge and it turns out to be the Roosevelt Bridge, which isn't even close.  Whatever, they were both presidents.  You can probably guess where this is going...I look down at the black and white copy of my map.  Why are my palms starting to sweat?  I consult with my chaperones and we decide to start on the closest trail and figure it out as we go. 

Once on the trail, I am amazed to find that some of my students have never been hiking before.  Besides getting lost, I was also anxious that it wouldn't take us anywhere near the 2 1/2 hours we had allotted to complete our three mile hike. I didn't need to worry about that at all! As soon as we left the asphalt lot and stepped onto the dirt path, these kids were transformed.

"Oh, a log!  Can we walk on it?" 
"Look, I found a flower!" 
"Check this out! There's a fungus growing here."

Thank goodness for my team of amazing chaperones. As we spread out, it was impossible for me to keep track of everyone. We stopped to look at insects, rocks, and the sandy bank of the creek. We put our hands in the cool water and squished through muddy spots with our sneakers. Sometimes we crossed over the creek on a bridge, sometimes we maneuvered across hopping from rock to rock. Occasionally, we stopped to take it all in--the vast expanse of trees letting us forget, for a little while, the suburbia just outside.

When we finally reached the field, we sat for our picnic lunch. Kids finished eating and began running around playing tag or rolling down the grassy hill. Our PE teacher brought out some balls and Frisbees and different grade levels began to mingle together in an impromptu game of soccer. Carefree and laughing, they were kids being kids. As one of my students ran by chasing down a ball, he turned to me. "I never want to leave this place," he said.

Too soon, it was time to load the busses. As we headed back to school, I looked around at my class, with grass from the hill in stuck in their hair and dirt on their shoes. "This was the best field trip ever," one sighed, resting her head against the window.

As we prepare to take our state exams, teachers across Fairfax County will spend the next few weeks reviewing curriculum standards, trying to stuff our students' heads with as much information as they can remember before the tests. I am betting we'll forget many of those facts by June.  I believe that instead we'll remember the sensation of the creek water running through our fingers, the excitement of overturning a rock and finding a millipede, the sense of accomplishment when we completed the trail (no short cuts!) and didn't get lost.  I agree with my student--it was the best field trip ever.

 

September vs. Allison

My principal says September is kind of like giving birth for teachers: time passes and we forget how hard labor really is.  That's probably why I said goodbye to August with such high hopes and good intentions of kicking the school year off right.  Instead the first month of school kicked me and left me feeling pulverized.

September is unpacking boxes, stapling up bulletin boards and alphabetizing class lists.  September is giving a million pre-assessments...which means GRADING a million pre-assessments and then sitting in a million meetings to ANALYZE the pre-assessments.  September is meeting and greeting parents at Open House and preparing a Back to School night presentations.  September is setting up classrooms, setting up routines, setting up conferences.  September is coming to school early every single day and staying late every single evening.

And when I leave, I go to my other full-time job.

I walk in the door completely exhausted...I've been on the go for 12 straight hours...and there's laundry to be done and bills to pay and a dog that doesn't get nearly enough attention (as he keeps demonstrating by ripping  holes in my couch).  There's football practice, football games, homework help and piano practice.  Everyone in my family is trying to get used to new routines and the homework load and I am not there nearly enough for their liking.  In one week of September, I was out every single night at three different Back To School nights, a Driver's Ed meeting and a Girl Scout meeting.  It is too much-- TOO MUCH!-- but we all just keep going because we have to.  We just keep putting one foot in front of the other and crossing off those September days, one by one. 

As my students left one day, I looked around the room at the aftermath of our busy day.  I wanted to leave, but their ME Collages were stacked haphazardly under my chair by the rug, I had a difficult email to write to a parent, and sub plans to prepare since I would be out for training the next day.

Ding! 

The text message says, "Mom, I need a ride home from football."  I leave my room, with my To Do list looming.  I pick up Jack, stop off at home and change into running clothes.  (Well, all my running shorts were dirty so I was wearing an old hot pink tennis skirt.  Haven't played tennis in years but it is a good wardrobe staple when you have no time to do laundry.)  Katherine picks this point in the evening to declare that she is FAILING French so I spend a little time conjugating the verb avoir with her (J'ai, tu as, il a, nous avons, vous avez, ils ont....yeah, Monsieur Rummings, I still got it!) before heading back to school at 7:00 p.m. to write my sub plans.

The first thing I notice when I return to the classroom is that the ME Collages are gone.  You know, the ones I left in a messy pile on the floor.  Mr. Kim, our janitor, thought they were trash and helpfully put them in the dumpster.  Did I mention that it was raining? 

Right there, in my classroom at 7:00 p.m., in my hot pink tennis skirt, I started to cry.  I cried because the kids worked so hard on those projects.  I cried because I was trying to do TOO MUCH and I was failing miserably.  I cried because it was raining.  I cried because I couldn't even find the time to go for a run.

Then, I heard footsteps.  Coming up the ramp was the custodian with a parent looking for some forgotten homework.  And...what are the odds...it happened to be the same parent that just received that difficult email an hour ago.  So, right there, on Wednesday night, wearing a tennis skirt and holding a snotty tissue, I had a parent- teacher conference.  Oh the joy.

This story has a happy ending.  The next morning when I returned to school, Mr. Kim had found the collages and returned them--unharmed--to my classroom.  The other happy ending is that September doesn't last forever and it is almost October. 

October is going to rock.  I am SO going to have my shit together.  Yes, I know we have report cards and parent teacher conferences coming up.  But I don't remember those being hard....

Just so you don't think September was totally awful, it did have some happy moments like these:

First Day of School Smiles

Visiting Luray Caverns

10th Annual Neighborhood Camping Trip
 

Fun weekend visiting with Mom and Jim



Jack's first homecoming dance.

The Show Must Go On

The email arrives late Wednesday night. 

 

"I wanted to let you know that our son has been throwing up since this evening. I am not sure what is going on but if he doesn't feel better tomorrow he will have to stay home. I know they have their big Play tomorrow.  I am so sorry but I hope you understand. It is going to be a long night for us."

 

Poor guy.  Bad enough to come down with a stomach bug, but even worse to have to miss our class play.  Luckily, he doesn't have a singing part.  I'm sure I can find a volunteer to read his lines for him.

 

Thursday morning's email brings more bad news.  Another sick student.  Then another.  By 9:00 am I am starting to sweat and I'm pretty sure my deodorant has completely stopped working.

 

A violent stomach virus is sweeping through my classroom on the day of the play.  We have 6 students absent.

 

Normally I greet my students at the door with a handshake and a smile.  Thursday, I greet them with a tub of Clorox wipes.  "Desks and chairs, desks and chairs," I repeat.  "Wipe down everything--door handles, surfaces, pencils, keyboards..."

 

I explain the situation to the students.  Hands shoot up around the room, "I could say the Naturalist's lines because I'm already on the stage."

 

"I could be the Ox and then run and change..."

 

My students amaze me.  We've had very little time to practice due to all our snow days.  We literally lost half our rehearsal time due to closures and delays.   In two short weeks, they learned lines, cues, songs and instrument parts.  Now, they are willing to do whatever it takes not to disappoint their waiting audience.  All the volunteers refuse to go on stage with a script.  They quickly memorize new material and head out for costume changes. 

 

The lights go down.  The play begins.  And it is wonderful!  If you were here, you never would know that there were six cast members absent.  Congratulations to my amazing third grade class.  You pulled together and said, "The show must go on."  And so it did.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

What Does the Fox Say?

One year, when I taught kindergarten, I had a boy in my class who was a bit quirky, shall we say.   He was short and a little chunky.  His parents always seemed to buy his clothes a few sizes too big, maybe hoping they would last longer as he grew into them.  The result was that he often looked like he was wearing a dress when his t-shirt fell past his knees.

In kindergarten "M" loved two things: Legos and singing.  In first grade, his teacher used to use singing as a reward:  Perform well academically and I'll let you perform with an audience.  M was on a behavior plan that included singing for teachers as his reward.

Fast forward three years and the boy is now in third grade next door to my class.  This morning's windy, rainy weather broke into a beautiful day and we all tumbled out of the trailers onto the playground.  The teachers sat, as usual, on the bench in the middle of the field to keep watch over their flocks.  That's when Lizzie brought M over.

"Guys-- M has a song for you."  she says.

We turn our full attention to M.  As if on a stage, he begins to sing:

Dog goes woof
Cat goes meow
Bird goes tweet
and mouse goes squeak

Cow goes moo
Frog goes croak
and the elephant goes toot

Ducks say quack
and fish go blub
and the seal goes ow ow ow ow ow

But there;s one sound
That no one knows
What does the fox say?

 

At this point he begins to dance all around the bench, all the teachers clapping and cheering as he is singing at the top of his lungs:

 

Ring-ding-ding-ding-dingeringeding!
Gering-ding-ding-ding-dingeringeding!
Gering-ding-ding-ding-dingeringeding!

 

He pauses back in front of us, more animated than I've ever seen him and belts out:

What the fox say?

It was hilarious yet heartwarming at the same time. The song stayed in my head the rest of the afternoon.  I bet the infectious tune stayed with M as well.   Every time I thought of it, I smiled.  I think he did too.  Does this have anything to do with standardized testing or curriculum?  No.  But moments like these are what make teaching worthwhile.

Happy Fall

Fall officially arrived yesterday as the Autumn equinox occurred.  The Autumn equinox is the point where there is exactly 12 hours of daylight and 12 hours of darkness at the equator.   Now the days will get shorter until the Winter solstice in December.  Fall unofficially started three weeks ago here when school began. 

Jack is now a freshman in high school!

Katherine starting middle school!

 

I am still hanging out with the Haycock Cougar...

Surprise!  Katherine helped with orientation.  It gets pretty hot and sweaty in there...don't think she'll be applying to be a mascot again anytime soon.

 

In addition to starting school we also went on our 9th annual neighborhood camping trip.  This year's highlight was ziplining!

 

It was fun to get all the kids together for the weekend. 

 

We are now in the full swing of fall.  Jack is playing football (already had his first--hopefully last--concussion) and Katherine is preparing for the first Girl Scout camping trip...yes, I am chaperoning again. Looking forward to more adventures of the season. 

Happy Fall!

 



Dreaming of a Never Ending Summer

In my dream, it is recess on the first day of school.  “I heard you got Muffled Name,” another teacher says.  “How is it going?”

“I haven’t even learned all their names yet,” I reply.  “Which one is he?" We scan the playground, our eyes both coming to rest at the same time on a little dark haired boy in a red shirt who has removed his shoes and is now scaling the chain link fence behind home plate. 

“That one,” she says.

enjoying July in Asheville

My friend Katie compares the summer months for teachers to the days of the weekend.  June is like a Friday.  You have to work through most of it but the mood is lighter and you know the weekend is coming.  July is summer’s Saturday.  The whole month is yours for adventure!  Saturday is a trip to the park, a hike by a waterfall and a cookout with friends.  But then you wake up and it is Sunday.  Even though it is a part of the weekend, Sunday just doesn’t have the same feel.   Sunday is for going to the grocery store, or doing laundry.  Sunday is when you eye the “guilty bag” you brought home and think of lessons to plan, papers to grade. 

To teachers, August feels like one big Sunday.  We know the end is in sight.  And even though I won’t meet my new class until September, my mind and body have to report back much sooner.  I’ll go in the 3^rd week in August for some meetings and planning sessions with my team.  If I’m lucky, I’ll have my room assigned so I can get a head start unpacking boxes and figuring out how to set up my classroom.  By the 4^th week, we are all back full time, up to our ears in SIP goals and Epipen trainings, trying to master the new Master Schedule and beautify our bulletin boards. 

So, it is no surprise to me that I have already started dreaming about the new school year.   I remember in my dream—watching my little guy climb—I felt very calm.  Like, “OK, I’ve got some work to do with that one but I think we’ll get along just fine.”  When September comes, I’ll be ready.

In the mean time, I want to make the most of my dwindling summer.   Dinner with friends, a baseball game, a movie, a play and my triathlon are all on the schedule.  I have three books in my pool bag.  Maybe, just maybe, August won’t fly by.  Well, I can dream, can’t I?

 

More pictures from our July vacation to Asheville...

See Mom, we're not always bickering!

 



Long climb to the top but views of the Smokies are worth it.

Snuggling with Reed's pet rabbit.

It's a big job, but someone has to hold up the Biltmore.

 

Blossom

It's cool to watch Uncle Bobby work.

 

 

The Empty Pot

“Dressed in our newest clothes we’re on our way.  We’ll see the Emperor on this special day…”  The third grade plays were wonderful!  Now, I wonder how long it will take to get all the the constant refrain of all these songs out of my head.   Last week, the third grade classes performed various Chinese folktales for friends and family.  We all enjoyed the finished product, but not many people know how much effort goes into those final performances.

First we need to reserve the stage to practice.  Since we have 6 classes, this is not an easy task.  To give each class a daily practice time, some of the teachers move their math block to accommodate others.  Every day one class will miss recess and use that time to practice.  The practice area is a common area, so our budding thespians must contend with people switching classes, walking through the rehearsal on their way to lunch or specials.

Now that we have our rehearsal schedule, we begin to look at other aspects of our play.  To help learn the music, we collaborate with the three different music teachers on staff.   We coordinate lesson plans and curriculum with both art teachers to help create some props and scenery.   The speech teacher rearranges her schedule to be available to help with her caseload.  We have 5 special education students participating in the play so the Special Ed. Team gets involved as well.   Two part-time staff members help with instruments and costumes.  We ask other teachers, “What about the lights and sound?  Who knows how to rewire these microphones?”  Soon, parents will be invited to volunteer to help with programs and dress rehearsal logistics. 

It’s not easy.  We are trying to coordinate with about 25 adults and almost 180 third graders.  Why do we do it?  Why do we disrupt our regular schedule and take on the extra time commitment and stress of this production?   Short answer: we love our students.  We believe the value of working together far outweighs the challenges we encounter.  For many, this is their first play.   We feel a swell of pride to see our students work so hard to learn their lines, cues and songs.  On Friday night, the POD filled up with parents.  The lights went down.  Narrator one began:  “Ancient China is a land of stories…” 

The kids are excited.  This play is a part of their story now.   I don’t know what I would have said last week, but now that it is over, I can honestly say, it was worth it.

Don't Let My Principal Read This!

Earlier this month Paul planned a presentation for a conference.  He needed a Powerpoint, handouts, an activity and a speech.  Over the course of a few weeks, he spent several hours making sure everything was perfect for that hour-long event.

A few weeks.  What luxury!  Speaking for my fellow teachers, we're giving hour long presentations all day long.  We need lesson plans, materials, background knowledge and back-up plans...every hour of every day. We are expected to be at our peak in our carefully-orchestrated cooperative-learning bliss. 

Except the days when we're not.  Like Monday for example.  When I scheduled a parent-teacher conference first thing.  (Mental note: no parent-teacher conferences on Mondays.  When will I learn?)

Did I mention it was Monday?  Now, I was productive last weekend.  I registered all my kids for their online math text book.  I graded a stack of papers bigger than the stack of pancakes I ate Saturday morning.  In addition I (blah, blah, blah...insert a lot more important stuff related to school here.)  So, as you can see, I was not slacking off or doing anything crazy like, oh, enjoying my weekend. 

I get to school on Monday and I know that in math we're reviewing for a test, only I haven't quite thought through HOW we're doing that.  That's why the cooperative review activity is so appealing.  It's straight from the book and it's already done.  The answers are already there. I don't even have to read it before I quickly run off copies. (If this was a Halloween horror movie, there would be some scary foreboding music right here so the audience would know trouble is coming.)

Math begins and the activity starts off just fine.  Until Cody says, "I think number 3 is wrong."  I take a look.  Hmmm. Number 3 is wrong.  Another student isn't far behind.  "Number 16 doesn't make sense to us," he says.  Number 16 is wrong too!  And so is number 12!!

What a train wreck.  I'm flustered.  Maybe I copied the stuff wrong.  Maybe I should have read the directions more closely (OK, I didn't read them at all.) 

"STOP!" I call to the class.  "I'm sorry," I tell them.  "This isn't going the way I planned."  They are good kids.  They laugh.  Then we talk about it. 

"I'm so proud of you."  I tell them.  "Lots of kids would look on the back for the right answer and not realize there is a mistake there.  You are confident enough in your math ability to realize when an answer doesn't make sense.  That's really what math is all about.  You are using your heads to think about whether or not an answer is reasonable."

I don't know why that book had 3 errors in this particular exercise.  I know I learned my lesson to proofread very carefully if I ever use any of those activities again.  After reflecting though, I realize the day wasn't quite the train wreck I thought it was.  My students were on task.  They were solving problems.  Even those I didn't initially realize existed. 

Disclaimer:  Sometimes my principal actually reads my blog.  I think she'll click right on it when she sees the title of this one.  So when we meet for my evaluation cycle I want you to know, Kelly, that this is off the record :).

Barf and Poop and Other Cool Stuff

"So you actually have owl poop?" Katie asks.

"Owl pellets," Anne corrects.  "It comes out of the owl's mouth.  Kinda like a cat's hairball."

"Well, how often do the owls have these pellets?" Donna wants to know.

We want to know more about owl pellets.  Like, do they have their morning coffee and then--bam--owl pellet?  It is Friday afternoon and we are planning some science lessons with Anne.  Anne is the amazingly wonderful, incredibly talented, knowledgeable science specialist at our school.  Her job is to help the classroom teachers with their science curriculum.  Next month we'll be studying food chains, animal adaptations and predator-prey relationships.  That's where the owl pellet comes in.  Owl=predator.  Pellet=prey.

You see, an owl swallows its prey--most often a rodent--whole.  Then some cool chemistry science stuff happens in the owl's stomach and all the useful parts of the owl's meal are taken away leaving only the bones and hair of the rodent.  So the owl ejects the unwanted parts back out of its mouth. 

Anne lays an owl pellet on the table.  It's about the size of an egg.  She shows us how to carefully pull it apart with tweezers and separate out the skeleton of the rodent.  There's the skull!  There's the thigh bone! Here are some rodent ribs!  They look like tiny fish bones.  She has a template of a rodent skeleton so when we find a bone we can match it up and add it to the picture.  Remember the old game Operation where you had to get all the bones out of the picture?  This is the reverse.  We have to find all the bones and put them back.

We are intrigued.  We want to know more! How often does this happen?  (Several times a day, Anne says.)  Do owls also go to the bathroom? (Yes.)  Have you ever seen an owl eject a pellet? (No.)

"I bet we can find it on YouTube," Jenn says.  And so, a moment later, we are gathered around her laptop watching a baby owl.  Even though we are expecting it, we still all scream when the pellet is ejected--so loud, in fact, that some other teachers rush into the room to see what is happening.  They find us doubled over in tears with laughter. 

Anne has a way of getting teachers excited about science.  Anne loves science.  We love Anne.  Now we love science too.  And owl pellets.  Check it out for yourself: Baby Owl Ejects Pellet

A Remarkable Friendship

The first week of school I chose to read Owen & Mzee: The True Story of A Remarkable Friendship to my class. The book tells of an orphaned baby hippo who befriends Mzee, a 130 year old tortoise. It's a heartwarming story and I thought the theme of the unusual friendship was appropriate for my new third graders.

I put a lot of emphasis on friendships during September. The first few days of school can be difficult as students learn new routines and rules surrounded by unfamiliar faces. So we spend a lot of time learning names and building a sense of community. We share objects that are special to us and begin to learn a little about everyone in the class.  I love getting to know each individual student--learning who loves his rock collection and who wants to be a marine biologist when she grows up. I know who is left handed and who is tri-lingual.  I know who loves math and who hates writing... (Not for long, I hope!) I know who, despite his head-to-toe Redskins gear, is actually a Dallas fan. We play games to see what we all have in common.  We practice shaking hands with eye contact and listening to one another. I hope these activities help to foster new friendships that will grow stronger throughout our year together.

After reading the story, we talk about it together.  My mind is so focused on the theme of friendship that the first question takes me by surprise. 

"How long do giant tortoises usually live?"

Then there were more--

"How long do hippos usually stay with their mother?"
"What do hippos eat?"
"Is Mzee still alive today?"

It is the first week of school and I'm already in love with my entire class. I love their inquisitive spirit.  I love their thoughtful hypotheses.  I love their true caring nature and concern for Owen.  I love that they remind me to look at a book from a different perspective.  I quickly switch gears and together we create a list of facts we've learned and questions we have. 

We begin as 29 people with different backgrounds, interests and strengths. We'll share our stories and knowledge, ask questions and sometimes make mistakes. Together we will grow into a community of learners and friends.  I think this is the beginning of a remarkable year.

 P.S.
Giant tortoises can live over 200 years and Mzee is still alive today. Hippos are herbivores and their diet consists mainly of grass and some water plants.  Baby hippos usually stay with their mothers until they're around five months old.

If You Can Read This, Thank A Teacher

Did you hear about the guy who donated a building to honor his third grade teacher?

I just read an article in The Washington Post about Chris Shumway's incredible $800,000 gift to establish the Candace Leyton Innovation Learning Lab because his teacher changed his life.

Just what did this amazing teacher teach her third graders that they remember 30 years later?  I'm sure she must have taught them how to multiply and spell.  Former students didn't comment on the curriculum they learned, however. They talked about the character they developed.  What stuck with them was how to be a problem solver and a risk taker.  They remember Candace Leyton as a woman who brought creativity and a love of learning to the classroom.  They remember her inspiration to develop skills as critical thinkers and innovators.  They remember her as human--funny and tough at the same time.  They remember the creative ways she made the curriculum relevant to her students' lives.  They remember that she paid attention to each of them.  One student was quoted saying, "She expected nothing but the best of efforts from everybody."

I know Chris Shumway isn't the only person who has fond memories of a special teacher.  For me, it was my second grade teacher Miss Littman.  Miss Littman, who encouraged my love of reading and introduced me to the worlds of authors like Beverly Cleary, Carolyn Haywood and Scott Corbett.  Miss Littman, who encouraged my love of creative projects, stories, and poems.  When I dressed as a witch for Halloween, Miss Littman colored one of my teeth black with a grease pencil to complete the effect.  When I decided to wear my favorite Ronald McDonald dress on picture day, Miss Littman said I looked just perfect.  

Once, around Christmas, Miss Littman told us her favorite carol was "Joy to the World" because her name was in the song.  I went home and listened to the song over and over again, straining my ears for the lyric that included "Miss Littman."  The next day I came in exasperated.  She laughed and told me her name was Joy Littman.  I even remember Miss Littman's dog Meesha, a Husky who came to visit the classroom occasionally.

Miss Littman became Mrs. Murray and soon had two children of her own.   Eventually we lost touch.  Every once in a while, I try to see if I can find her name on Facebook.  I don't have a spare $800,000 to donate in her honor, but I sure would love to tell her that she made a difference in my life.  In fact, she is one of the reasons I decided to become a teacher myself.

In September I will return to the classroom full time.  I've just accepted a position to teach third grade at my school.  I'm both nervous and excited.   Yes, I will teach them how to multiply and how to spell.   I hope what they remember will be so much more.