cry me a river

     When I student-taught in fifth grade (it seems ages ago, but isn't really), I remember that one of the things that surprised me most was how often the boys cried.
     This observation holds true for my classroom. Boys who have cried lately: Junior, as mentioned in the previous post. Pilot, today. Biblio, today as well.
     My class had cafeteria duty today, so I marched the students over after recess. They didn't need everyone, so I had to take 3 students back to class. Pilot wanted to go back. I decided I wanted him to stay. He's so quiet and shy that I think any extra time he spends interacting and working with classmates is invaluable for his development. The students who were returning to class were standing against the wall, and Pilot walked over to join them. I told him he needed to get in the other line. He shook his head, but didn't say anything.
     When I said he was going to stay, he began to cry. I don't like making my students unhappy, but I felt the potential benefits outweighed his momentary unhappiness. As a shy person myself, I know how easy it is to follow the path that takes you _away _ from other people, instead of toward them, even when you really want to choose otherwise.
     This is my first mention of Biblio. He reminds me a little of me at that age. One of my clearest memories of fifth grade was a day when we were taking a spelling test.  I finished early and dove into a book. The teacher had to literally dig me out of the book to get me to join the class for the next subject; I hadn't heard the directions at all. Similarly, I will find Biblio sitting in the book corner, immersed in a book. He also leaves piles of books around the room. He is singularly disorganized; I've started checking his bag as he leaves to ensure he has his homework.
     Mom came in for the parent-teacher conference this afternoon, and Biblio sat with us. I started off by asking him to tell mom what he needs to work on. He said that he talks too much. We also discussed how he walks around the room, socializing and playing with things, instead of doing work. I pulled out the vocabulary practice from last week that Biblio had not completed, despite ample time in class. He got teary-eyed as mom lectured him about completing his work. He also had to show her his messy desk (not at its messiest point, but that's because we just rearranged seating and he hasn't had time to build his usual piles).
     Mom is very invested in Biblio's school success, so I'm looking forward to seeing some positive changes.
     All these tears remind me of what a friend's sage advice: "Remember, they're just little kids."

a little smile

Pilot moved here from the Philippines. He is extremely quiet and shy; a few weeks ago he refused to speak when I had students introduce themselves to a new classmate. But bit by bit, he seems to be getting a little more comfortable. Recently, I had students working in pairs to study vocabulary words. Each pair had to present their word to the class. I was surprised and pleased that Pilot read aloud the word's definition. It was in a very soft voice, but for him to speak at all in front of the class was a big step. I think it definitely helped that I had him work with his seatmate, Teddy. Teddy is gentle, helpful and friendly; I deliberately seated them together so Pilot would have someone to watch out for him.
Another sign of progress: In those first days of school, Pilot didn't smile at all. About a week ago, I instituted my hug-handshake-high five exit policy, as a way of closing the day and connecting with each student. He's started flashing a little smile as he shakes my hand on the way out the door.
The 3 Musketeers are still a handful, but repeated talks with me, the counselors (and some detention) may be helping them. I noticed today that they are reminding each other to "listen to the teacher." I remind myself each morning to be patient but firm and consistent, to be encouraging, to not give up. It feels like I ask the same questions over and over again, questions such as: What were you doing just now? (talking loudly without raising my hand, not listening, playing around). What are we as a class doing right now? (vocabulary practice, math, reading aloud). What different choice can you make next time? (ignore my friend who wants me to play around with him, listen to directions, ask for help if I don't know what to do). I strive to tell them that the work is doable for them, that I will help if they will try their best, and that I know they can make good choices. They do respond well to one-to-one assistance; I resorted to that today with Neo, because it looked like he wasn't going to do any vocabulary practice without it. It's just tough to figure out how to help all of your kids equally; I have some who need just as much academic help, but admittedly don't get as much because they don't have disruptive behaviors.  If there's some magic algorithm for figuring out how to help everyone equally, I'd love to know what it is!