Apples to Apples

Tomorrow is the start of three days of testing from my fourth graders. I hate the particular test AZ makes us administer. I think that we indeed need a way to measure the state’s achievement, but this it not it! I am forced to put two ELL children through the emotional turmoil of taking the AT LEVEL test. This year I pushed and pushed and made sure there were accomodations so that at least one of them won’t have his head pop off in frustration. For the other one, the one who has been in this country (from russia) for only 15 weeks and in school for 12 of them, I am relying on his mom and dad to explain that this test is not a big deal.

For the rest of them, I pray all year and especially once the test booklets are handed out, that they remember what was taught - even in the first weeks of school. I pray that we practiced enough. I pray that I taught them how to stop and think and pull on what they know from their “brain files”. I pray that they remember what words my classroom jargon represent in the real world and realize that I DID teach that and they DO know it. I pray that they don’t cry. I pray that they try.

For me, I pray that my principal realizes the immense amount of flaws in the process and that the written part is scored by another person - who may or may not have been having a good, alert day. I pray that my student’s parents take some of the responsibilty/credit depending on the scores sent home over the summer. Afterall, it is their encouragment that makes homework a failure or success.

Mostly I pray that my school, my class, fit right into the curve and go unnoticed

The time from Spring Break until the end of May (second week of June for me this year) seems to be the longest stretch of the year. It is without three day weekends and the weather is so nice it is near impossible to drag myself to “the cave” that is my classroom. Don’t get me wrong, I love my classroom, but it is in the back of the building and I am able to spend the hours of 8-3 without leaving the room (unless I have duty). At times, when I leave in the afternoon I feel like I am emerging from some deep cave.

Anyway, I found a prayer in one of my favorite teaching books, Chalkdust (credited on the side bar of this blog), that I wanted to share to help everyone get through until that last day.

In the Middle of a Long, Dull Stretch
Father,
I confess that the prospect of another day
stretching before me
is a burden,
rather than a joy.

I’ve lived these past few weeks
in a state of malaise,
going routinely about my work,
without those sparks of creativity and spontaneity
that makes life so exciting and satisfying.

The days are hectic,
crammed with pressure and demands,
but the hours pass slowly by - empty and barren.

Refresh me, Father.

Ease the tension that comes from broedom.

Show me how to bring vitality to a job that’s gone stale.

Restore to me the absorbing joy of an artist at work,
for truly good teaching is an art.
Oh, Father,
you have given me time,
and you have given me skill.
teach me to take delight in both,
using my time and my skill
to do something worthwhile,
to teach.

This week I realized that I rely on my classroom aide much more than I realized. She comes in Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday in the morning to work one on one with my new Russian student. I thank her every time and I am so grateful to have her. 

I am not sure what happened in this particular Thursday that brought it more to my attention that she was not coming. All I know is that I started saying things in my head that made me feel like a single mom.

I admire single parents. I know so many that make it work - and work well. I think that children are better off with two parents, but that is an ideal and not always true depending on the people involved.

Anyway, this Thursday I found myself with an exceptionally wild group of 10 year olds and overly excited Russian child with nothing to do. I felt like I was drowning. I didn’t know which way to turn. I found myself feeling desparate and repeatedly thinking, “J, where are you? I can’t do this on my own” and “Oh my gosh, how do single parents do this?” I was grateful when math time started and I was able to press on through the chaos. The moment was a flash in the day, but it was enough to make me want wait until I have some help before I become a parent.

Yesterday, a friend pointed out to B that her training bra could be seen through her white shirt. Being that B is nine years old, you can imagine the huge uproar this caused to her day. She immediately came to me (which means I must be doing something right, since she trusts me with this stuff) to see what she should do.  I told her that there were a lot of sweaters in the Lost & Found and that she could borrow one of those for the day. I knew there was no sense in trying to convince her that it didn’t matter that her mid drift under shift known as a training bra was showing.

She picked out a brand new sweatshirt that looked like it must have belonged to one of the junior highers at our school. I didn’t want her to wear it on the playground.

She was upset and asked if she could borrow my sweater. I agreed and paid no more attention to it. When I left in the afternoon, I grabbed my sweater from my desk where B had left it. I carried it with me to the car, into the house, back to the car, and into the building at my second job (where I score standardized tests). I didn’t put it on until I left job #2 that night. I knew it was going to be chilly outside.

When I put on the sweater, the sleeves only came to my elbows. A rush of love for B and children in general swept over me and I realized that she is still so small and young that she had to roll the sleeves up that far. These are the types of moments that make me keep teaching.

I will never:

Second guess my child’s teacher so much that I frequently visit the principal - the teacher’s boss- to pose the questions I have when really the only person who could really help me is the teacher herself, but I am too chicken shit to talk to her myself!!!!!

Demand my child’s teacher treat him as if he is more special than the other kids in the class.

Not read the newsletters my child brings home weekly.

Blame the teacher when my child is an asshole and doesn’t follow directions.

Ask for special favors from my child’s teacher, implying that A) she must not have a life and B) that my child is the most important one in the class of 25+

Let my child be “responsible” enough to bring me papers. After several days I will MOST DEFINITELY be looking in the backpack, so as not to have the teacher clean it out and find papers from the PREVIOUS SCHOOL YEAR still in it!

Smoke and let my child and her work go to school and STINK to the high heavens.

Think the my ADHA child is hyperactive because he is really a genius, therefore needing no help in self control and thereby being excused from all rules regarding self discipline.

Do my child’s homework for him and then be stupid enough to confront the teacher about the one’s I, er he, got wrong.

Forget how wonderful the teacher is and be sure to bring her presents on the holidays - especially if my child is an asshole or needs extra attention.

Let my kid stay home because “she didn’t feel like going” to school.

Ask the teacher if it’s “OK” for my child to miss or if they are “Doing anything important”

Ask the teacher to stay until late in the evening for a conference. Instead, I will take some time off work to go to my child’s conference.

*additions may be added as often as needed

Yesterday was probably one of the top five, no 3 days, of the school year so far. My class was ON FIRE! I was so excited about how much learning was accomplished, how well they listened and followed EVERY direction I gave them, and even worked together in groups (which if you know my class is a huge feat all in itself )!! We’re talkin’ so into their reading lesson that when I stopped them to assign who it was that would play the computer and who would play with the hamster during snack (we have to have a list and take turns or they go insane and argue forever - i mean for.ev.er - days upon days) they all just kind of stared. I said, “Well, it looks like most groups only have a few questions left. I’ll give you ten more mintes and we’ll take our break a little later today” I didn’t get ONE sour look or sigh. Every set of eyes darted back to his or her worksheet and diligently tried to finish it up in that 10 minutes. Are you kidding me?! This is unheard of. Who replaced my students with a batch from Stepford?

That was yesterday…..

Today I took an 8 hour trip to Hell. I am not sure that I am actually back yet, because I wasn’t able to join the crew for a ” teacher’s meeting” at the pub next door after school :(  My students were IN.SANE. today!! I guess they just don’t have the goodness in their 10 year old bodies to keep it up for more than a few hours at a time. Here’s hopin’ tomorrow brings me back to Heaven - even Purgatory would be better than Hell.

Last week the fire alarm went off. My class was in music and from what I am told snapped to it with getting in a nice, silent straight line. I however, was left alone in the classroom to perform the various tasks I’d previously delegated to students in the event of a fire. I had to find the correct folder with their parent’s emergency info, the big red & green stick we hold up so the principal knows we are all there (or not), turn off the light, shut both doors, and get the heck out of there. Once I was outside, I joined my class - who was the best behaved in the school - and counted their precious little heads adding in who was absent and snapping up my green sign that we were all there. We stood for a few minutes and waited for the principal to come tell us to go back in. Instead, he came out and shouted to the school, a group of children who find the most dramatic way possible to react to any situation, “THIS IS NOT A DRILL!” I didn’t think anything serious, but had to turn around when my lovely 9 and 10 years olds were whispering my name. The pathetic desparate looks on their faces confused me until one of them, near tears it seeemed, said “Mr. Cuddles is in there”. My heart melted as I realized that amidst the chaos of remembering all of their jobs during a fire drill, I had forgotten mine. I’d left the beloved hamster to melt in the flames of fourth grade.

*there was never any fire, but the kids got to see the real firemen come check out the school. mr. cuddles was perfectly fine when we made it back to the room