Wednesday, January 26, 2011

~ Always something new ~

C is the macho guy in our class: never admits to needing help, too cool to do his work, or get excited about anything in school. So it was a little strange when today on my way back to the room after lunch I met a visibly upset C in the hall.

"You're heading the wrong way," I said, "What's going on??"

"S was calling me names. Even when I told him to stop, he kept going and I'm seriously gonna punch him if he doesn't stop."

"Names like what?"

After a long pause, "He keeps calling me a rapist."

So while the rest of the class did busy work, the better part of my afternoon was spent interviewing witnesses, determining that S really did call C a rapist for no apparent reason, forcing S to have what was hopefully the most uncomfortable conversation of his life so far when he had to explain to me exactly what a rapist is, and writing out detention forms.

During this indoor-recess, too-cooped-up time of year, it's always something!

Wednesday, January 19, 2011

~ Yay for Snow Days! ~

One storm, rolling in Monday afternoon

+

One child, off his meds

+

Indoor recess all day on Monday

=

A severe case of thankfulness for Tuesday's snow day!

Monday, January 17, 2011

~ Snow Day, Maybe?? ~

Apparently, not everyone is as enthralled by snow days as I am. Case in point, this morning:

E: "Mrs. N, it's Monday, right?"
Me: "Yes."
E: "So....do we have school tomorrow?"
Me: "Well, E, that depends on how hard you do your snow dance tonight."
E: *long pause* "I have to do a dance?"
Me: "It's just a joke, E. We're supposed to have school tomorrow, unless there's a snow day."
E: "Aw, man. I hope we don't get a foot of snow. I hate snow."

I hate snow, too. But I love a snow day!
Come on, big nasty clouds!

Thursday, January 13, 2011

~ The Storyteller ~

My day has started, for several years, by greeting each student coming in the door with a handshake and a "Good Morning!" This year, the tradition is a little different, because of R. Now my morning goes something like this.

"Good Morning, A."

"Good Morning, D."

"Good Morning, R."

"Mrs. N...did you know that little kids run really fast in bare feet? Well, they can....."
or
"Mrs. N...did you know that I left my jacket in my locker? I did, and I think I need it because, you see, ......."
or
"Mrs. N...you know I got a remote control helicopter for Christmas? And I didn't even have it a week and the charger broke. So I had to....."
or
"Mrs. N, which do you think is more dangerous, getting thrown from a dirtbike or squashed by a snowmobile? I'd have to say, the snowmobile 'cause you see....."
or
"Mrs. N, did you know that every time I play this computer game I forget my password? But then I...."

This from the boy whose parents never show up for conferences, whose pants have been six inches too short for a couple of months and no one at home seems to have noticed. He's my neediest one, and his stories are nearly always an interruption when I'm working on something else. I have to fight the urge to return him to his seat, to ask him if there's any point in what he's telling me. And sometimes I have to do that. But more often it's important for me to listen, to let him know that he is important enough to have my attention. More than that, I see the rest of the class watching how I respond to him. So I make the effort to listen, to model for them that everyone is important and valued in this classroom. Some days I manage it, but some days, just hearing "Mrs. N, did you know.....?" sets my teeth on edge. Patience, Lord, patience, please.

Tuesday, January 11, 2011

~ I can't even imagine ~

How some kids can even start to concentrate on learning and assignments, I will never understand.

One of the secretaries called very early, interrupting the early morning grading frenzy today. She was letting me know that the office had to be notified if C's dad showed up at the classroom to get him. C's parents are divorced, so he and his brothers were living with Dad. Dad had become depressed and over the weekend told his kids he was going to kill himself. Mom, understandably, took the kids and called Protective Services. C spent part of his day in the office, talking with a couple of officers. As a result, there is now a police order that if Dad shows up at school, the police must be called to deal with the situation. Added to that, there's also a previously scheduled family court date tomorrow that C will be attending.

I can't even imagine that level of stress and anxiety.

Yet C handled it pretty well today, considering. No outbursts, got all his work done on time, and generally participated in class. I would have let him crawl under a table and hide from the world if he'd wanted to.

Monday, January 10, 2011

~ My Red Folder ~

Each of my kids have a red folder in their desks. This is a catch-all for unfinished work, projects, and anything else that needs to be kept for more than a couple of days. They hate using thier red folders; I'm constantly nagging at them to put it in your red folder, not just in your desk.


But what they don't know is that I have my own red folder. I keep it in the bottom drawer of my desk, forgotten for months on end. It's a small folder, and I don't really have a name for it, but it's my catch-all for the little notes of appreciation students and parents have written me over the years. I remembered it again cleaning up Christmas gifts from students. I found a couple of nice handwritten cards and remembered I had a place for them. Opening the folder up is a little like time travel; many of the kids whose names are signed on these notes are in high school now, some have even graduated. But these notes take me back, to the time they spent with me. I get a little teary-eyed, remembering.

~ There's a letter from S, who was only here a few months before she moved. She liked my class so much that she, in her words, "could sit 12 hours of every day learning something new with you."

~ Another layer down, there's a handmade birthday card from the whole class. They made it to cheer me up while I was at the doctor's getting tested for mono because I was feeling so terrible and they were doing busy work with one of the parapros.

~ Another card, this one a handmade Christmas card from kids who are sophomores now. They made it during class, passing it around under my nose to get it everyone's signature on the card.

~ A letter from a parent, the first half all business to notify the school of a different bus route for her daughter. The second half is why I kept it, though, it's a thank you for helping give her child confidence in herself.

~ A Thank You card from a graduating senior from my very first class, thanking me for the part I played in helping her graduate and remembering some of the Chinese words I taught them that year.

I don't share this to toot my own horn. The truth is that for every scrap of paper in this folder, there have been multiple angry phone calls from parents, kids I didn't reach, or who couldn't wait to get as far from my classroom as possible. Even though my red folder holds only a handful of paper, as I glance through it, the notes remind me again why I work in this field, why I decided to become a teacher in the first place.

So think about the teachers in your life: your own teachers, your child's teacher, or just a teacher you know. Let them know if you appreciate the job they're doing - maybe your little scrap of paper, your five minutes of time, will end up in their own "red folder," a reminder of why they go to work every day.

Friday, January 7, 2011

~Utterly Disturbing~

Overheard today -
Kids are discussing middle names, when one nice, sweet boy chimes in.
"My parents just told me the meanings of my first and middle name. My first name means 'demon' and my middle name is another word for like a god or angel or something. So my name means 'demon god.'"

Yeesh. Thankfully he does not live up to the supposed meaning of his name. I've met his parents, too, and they seemed normal. Now, I'm thinking not so much....

Thursday, January 6, 2011

~ Dear Self ~

Dear Future Self,
Should you ever be a parent to a fifth grade boy, do not give him cologne for Christmas. His future teacher thanks you in advance for the headache free, non eye-watering days.
Love,
Mrs. N

Wednesday, January 5, 2011

~ Reason #46 ~

Reason #46 why I love fifth graders...

When you come back to school the day after Christmas vacation only to discover that the janitors have played a very fun game of "rearrange the furniture" while you were gone, don't worry. Just meander down the hall and find a couple of your students who were dropped off early. Take them back to the room, tell them you want it to look like it did when we left for break, and continue on with your work. Ten minutes later, the room will be back to normal.

If you try this with third graders, they will argue with eachother for 7 minutes, then realize the other kids are lining up at the door and madly scramble around trying to get things back in order, all the while asking you every 3.78 seconds where this table or desk or lamp goes. You will begin to see that it would have been less time consuming to just do it yourself.

Ah, 5th grade, how I love being back!