introvert problems and where I've been

    Introvert teacher problem #3046: When you're standing in the shower, a day after you met your new colleague, and think to yourself with a sinking feeling: "Oh my goodness, Turquoise shared so much about herself when we met yesterday ... and I could barely muster five words when she asked me to tell her about myself." Turquoise showed me photos of her beloved deceased dog, dressed up for her wedding; photos of the wedding itself, which I made sure to ooh over appropriately; told me horror and success stories from her career; then invited me to join her for lunch after.  I took a rain check on the lunch - any time I move into a new room, I need some time to sit on the teacher desk, measure the bulletin boards, poke around in the closet, and just in general wonder what I've gotten myself into.
      I will be starting my sixth year of teaching (doesn't include two years of leave in between to get a graduate degree), and my fifth year as a fourth-grade teacher. It's been a while since I visited this little space, but now that I'm living in a new state and joining a new school, I'm feeling the pull of a fresh (virtual) page to record my musings.
     Since I've last written, I've had magnificent years - years when the class felt like a family, my students worked hard and respected me and their classmates, and we learned and laughed together. That was the year that, after being told a little about my "problem student," I vowed to love him just a little more. He ended up being the kid who hugged me six times a day - every time he entered the room, basically - and would sometimes rush back from the bus to squeeze in one more hug. I treated him as my son, and I still pause sometimes and think good thoughts for him.
    There was also a year that was trying, to say the least. One January day, on the drive home, I seriously considered quitting. It was a thought that had never occurred to me, even when I was a lost newbie teacher who didn't even know what her classroom was missing. It was a year of learning what pushed my buttons, the difference between reacting and responding, and how chaos and disrespect can play out in a classroom. It was a year of trying and failing and trying again, all the while counting the days to the end of the year. It was a year of trying my very best - and realizing that sometimes my best is just not enough. But one of the days that stands out to me was the last Monday of the school year. After a weekend of combing through reader's theater scripts and carefully assigning students to groups, I broke my students into groups, gave them their scripts, and had them practice. Mondays were always particularly rough, and this was no different - bickering ensued and students got off track. On the drive home, however, I told myself that this was triumph - despite the year's challenges, I hadn't used it as an excuse to limit what I thought my students could achieve. I hadn't just handed out their memory books and slumped at my desk while they chatted and colored. I always told them that they had greatness within them, and I tried my best to help them uncover that greatness.
   So ... that was a really long way to say, I'm still learning, and I'm still here.

softies

      I decided to have the kids put together a very simple memory book for Puakenikeni. They got to write about why they liked her as a teacher, what they learned from her, etc. Still gotta shoot photos of her class and try to throw it all together this weekend.
     Anyhow, I am trying to keep the book a surprise, and I thought it would be nice if the kids could present the book and sing Uncle Kracker's "Smile" as a thank you. Keep in mind, Puakenikeni is the musical one. She plays ukulele, she taught the students to chant Hawaiian oli, and she taught them their May Day hula. My musical talents? Ummmm ... I can download the song from iTunes, print up the lyrics, and press play. It does not help that I'm hoarse from being sick last week and really can't sing.
     I jumped in and taught the students the song today. Our AC is broken, so we've been keeping the windows and doors open. Since Puakenikeni's room is adjacent, we closed up the room just for practice to keep the song a surprise. Despite my lack of musical instruction experience, the class was enthusiastic about singing. I was surprised when Quarterback sat down and put his head on his desk after participating in the first few sing-throughs. Thinking about the song lyrics and Puakenikeni made him cry. I had a few other folks who got teary, too.
    I joked with them that I will bring a box of Kleenex along for the performance, but that they should try to hold off their tears until after they sing the song.
    I am reminded again of how good-hearted our students are.

need a remote control

     Every day we get closer to summer, the volume seems to go up at school. I'm doing read-alouds, giving instructions, etc., in a much louder voice than normal. And given that I have what the VP once described as a "4-inch voice," I am rather hoarse at the end of the day. It didn't help that I spent recess duty yelling at kids "STAY OUT OF THE DITCH!" and "DO NOT RUN IN THE FIRE LANE!"
    We do have a wireless audio system installed in our rooms that will project our voice from a thingie you can sling around your neck. I know the first-grade teachers use theirs regularly. I haven't used mine so far. Call me old-fashioned, but I don't see how we teach children to be quiet and settle themselves when we can basically talk over them and turn up the volume. But, given that I'm afraid my hoarseness will lead to laryngitis, I may have to use it tomorrow.

that time of year

It's that time of year, when I start thinking about all the things I want to change with my next class.
It's that time of year, when I feel I know my students best. The hugs from them seem to last a little longer; I can crack a joke and get smiles in return.
It's that time of year when I lie in bed on Monday mornings, listening to the alarm ringing, and long for serene summer mornings, rest and quiet. 
It's that time of year when the days seem so long yet so short at the same time. I can't really wrap my mind around the fact that these students will be walking out of my life when the bell rings May 26. That I won't have the honor of being their "school mom." That I won't need to scold one student for shooting trash-can baskets with his balled-up paper; that I won't need to remind another to clean up her desk. That I won't be hearing any more of my students' small daily successes, woes and worries.
I'm torn between telling time to slow down and telling it to run faster. Monday mornings, I'll admit, I would love to press the fast-forward button. Other times I'm not so sure.
It's that time of year when I wonder if they'll remember me many years from now, and what they'll remember.
It's that time of year when I think about beginnings and endings, and how much they may be the same.

10 for 10 :)

     As I mentioned earlier, I decided to make some modifications to my vocabulary instruction. My morning class on Friday got quite a bit of time to draw pictures to represent the words. I then allowed them to keep this "cheat sheet" on their desks during the test. I also left on the board the samples I had drawn (the book I pulled this visual representation technique from exhorts teachers to "model, model, model" how to do quickdraws).
     To make sure students took the drawings seriously and tried their best to complete them, I mentioned that I was stapling the drawings to their tests. I also mentioned that Puakenikeni and I would be conferring and deciding whether the drawings had helped students do better.
     Of the 15 students who took the test in my morning class, 10 got perfect scores. The other 5 showed significant improvement.
     Today we started drawing with this week's new words. I hope that as students discuss, write and draw the words, they will build a deeper understanding.

a little attention

     Sometimes I think I make things more complex than they need to be.
     Like all of my students, Pup is suffering a bad case of spring fever. He was so off task last week that I pulled him on the side and mentioned that if things didn't improve, I would make a call home. This elicited immediate exclamations of, "No! I'll do better!" I meant to call last week, but honestly, was too tired.
     My usual practice during independent work time is to invite kids who want assistance to sit at the round table in the back with me. Usually "invite" sounds like this .... "Pirate! Grab your dictionary, vocab list and a pencil and meet me in the back!" I was thinking about this one day and realized I was squeezing out a bunch of kids who want and need help, but are not the behavior problems I usually tap first for a seat in the back. Sadly, this means my girls who are struggling readers don't get as much help as they would benefit from. They will sit quietly and struggle through on their own, while my struggling boy readers will start folding and flying paper airplanes, playing with the sink, trying to sharpen their pencil backwards, etc. To keep order I usually fill up the back table with boys.
     Today, however, I left it up to the students if they wanted to sit with me. Pup was one of them. As he sat to my right, I secretly marveled at how industrious he was. He even left the table after a while and continued working on his own.
    The difference? He got to sit next to me and work. Pup is one of my clingiest students. He constantly desires attention and affection ... mine, Puakenikeni's, resource teachers' -- anyone, really. He didn't get or seek an excessive amount of attention today -- I had to field requests for help from 7 other students at the same time. But just sitting closer to me helped him focus.
    Intervention doesn't have to be difficult or labor-intensive ... it just needs to suit the student and fulfill one of their needs.

Fudge

    Every afternoon I read to the kids. Our latest selection was "Tales of a Fourth-Grade Nothing." It always takes some time for them to develop interest, but I think they really enjoyed the story because many of them can relate to the travails of having a younger sibling. Whenever I announced read-aloud time, Pirate would announce, "That's my favorite book!"
    Every book has its turning point, the hook that snags my students' attention. In Roald Dahl's "Matilda," my students were enthralled by the Trunchbull's action-packed visit to Matilda's classroom. In "Fourth-Grade Nothing," it was the infamous party for Fudge and his 3-year-old friends. It had enough gross-out kid humor to capture their attention.
     Not sure what book we're going to start tomorrow ... they seemed receptive to reading the sequel "Fudge-a-Mania," but maybe I'll let them vote.