Tending the Eclectic Kinder-Garden

Don’t get me wrong, I’m a complete popsicle stick advocate when it comes to classroom and home crafts, or, go figure, for making popsicles. But when these creativity-inspiring, cool-snack-enabling pieces of wood are used for classroom “discipline,” I can’t stand the little buggers.

Discipline: training that corrects, molds, or perfects the mental faculties or moral character; control gained by enforcing obedience or order; orderly or prescribed conduct or pattern of behavior; a rule or system of rules governing conduct or activity; a form of punishment.

Have you witnessed a student being told to go “pull a stick” in a classroom after demonstrating behavior that a teacher doesn’t like? Have you heard a student be told by classmates “oooh, you’re gonna have to go pull a stick!” Or “uh oh, if you lose another stick you won’t get to go outside for recess!” Are you a teacher who routinely warns students about their “stick status?” Substitute the words “card” or “face card” for “stick” in any of the above examples- it’s the same concept: using public humiliation as a form of behavioral control. Sadly, popsicle stick discipline pocket charts are popular “classroom management” tools.

Excerpts from “Public Humiliation” at Wikipedia: “Just like painful forms of corporal punishment, it (public humiliation) has parallels in educational and other rather private punishments (but with some audience), in school or domestic disciplinary contexts, and as a rite of passage. Physical forms include being forced to wear some sign such as… a “Dunce Cap”, having to stand, kneel or bend over in a corner, or repeatedly write something on a blackboard (”I will not spread rumors” for example).” “In some cases, pain or at least discomfort is insignificant or rather secondary to the humiliation…” “Even when not strictly public, humiliation can still be a psychologically “painful” aspect of punishment because of the presence of witnessing peers, relatives, staff or other onlookers, or simply because the tormentor witnesses how self-control is broken down. This is also true for punishments in class.”

In my mind, classrooms are not prisons. I am no warden. As a teacher, I am employed to educate, guide, and serve the academic, physical, and emotional needs of my students. To fulfill my job requirements successfully, I take the time at the beginning of each year to build a positive repoire with my students and work with them to establish a safe environment in my classroom. This means I observe my students at length, I interview their parents (personally and in surveys/questionnaires that are sent home), and I constantly model appropriate behaviors and reactions to most, if not all, of our classroom experiences. No yelling, no threats, just explanations, questions, and role playing appropriate reactions for “next time.” Praise, praise, appreciation, and more praise.

“You must feel so good inside. You accidentally spilled the glue, but you told me and helped me clean it up. That’s terrific!”

“Thank you for showing J. what a good friend you can be. You hurt his feelings, but then you apologized. I think he feels better now, I hope you do too.”

” I’m so glad you remembered how to move safely during free center time! You didn’t run, so you didn’t get hurt/hurt others today! Good job!”

“Thank you for letting B. have a turn to talk with me. When I’m done talking with her, your turn will be next. Thank you for waiting nicely, you’re being very polite.”

Perhaps such phrases sound Pollyanna-ish, and I admit, I go home with a sore throat and sore face every day for the first month of school because of how much I verbally communicate and smile with each of my students. It’s become apparent over time that the fact that I actually enjoy talking to and WITH my students has set me apart from some of my colleagues in the past, as have my beliefs about children in general.

*****

~ Just-turned-five-year-olds are not experts on issues of self-control. Neither are many adults. Ever see an adult burst into tears, “vent” in a less-than-appropriate venue, or behave in publicly embarrassing ways? Of course you have. No one is perfect, though adults have years and years and YEARS of experience built from successes, mistakes, and regrets that young children can’t and won’t possess, no matter how many time outs, cards pulled, or whistles blown that you inflict upon them.

~ First graders tend to be a little more acclimatized to school than kindergarten students are, while second graders demonstrate a bit more familiarity with the choreography of the classroom environment than they did the previous year. No, fifth graders don’t have “it” all mastered, just because they’re older than kindergarten students. No, tenth graders don’t have “it” all mastered just because they’re in high school.

~The need to guide and respond in meaningful ways to our students is so great, but it’s one of those essentials that many teachers and schools ignore because they believe “there isn’t time.” Popsicle sticks are faster. Embarrassing a student is faster. But it’s not better.

~ Too often teachers forget that their students are children, no matter what they wear, how they behave, or what they say. While children aren’t social savants, they are certainly masters of observation, and they have emotional reactions to and an elephant’s memory for interactions, good and bad, with the adults in their lives. You are making an impression on your students, and your treatment of them will determine their reaction and responses to you.

~ Students are not sent to school in order to make a teacher’s day brighter, more cheerful, or to feed their ego. It’s amazing to me that a classroom full of children “complying” by sitting in their chairs, completely silent, demonstrating no interactive or inquiry-based behaviors is considered a successful model of classroom management, a successful model of teaching. No questions are being asked, no ideas are being explored, no communication is occurring, but teachers receive atta-boy or atta-girl praise that they enjoy from their administrators and colleages, which reminds me…

~ Children aren’t adults, nor are they robots, no matter how much some teachers and administrators wish they were. Information is exchanged with students, not just dumped into their open skull caps, lips zipped.

For my initial month’s worth of teaching, guidance, and constant communication, my students work in an atmosphere that frankly, throws people for a loop for the remainder of the year. Month after month, observers, parents and colleagues come in and sit at my reading table, just to watch and listen, and take it all in. They hear children, those “uncontrollable and impulsive” kindergartners talking, apologizing, encouraging, laughing, singing, and debating. They witness students approach me with questions, not interrupting, waiting until I’m done speaking to someone else. They hear explanations of feelings, expectations of how someone can help, negotiations between peers, instead of tattles and screams and cries. They hear productive noise, which many had previously felt indicated mayhem, a “lack of control,” a “zoo,” proof that this teacher has no “classroom management skills.” Funny the things visitors hear when they stop to truly listen, what they see, when they truly observe.

Because I’ve listened respectfully, because I’ve shared without force, I’ve modeled and therefore taught kindness instead of humiliation. I’ve appreciated my students for who they are and what they do, and in turn they reciprocate when I indicate it’s time to transition from one activity to another. They respond appropriately, they enable each other, they cooperate. They help me create and maintain a positive learning environment, their ownership and sense of belonging being the essential foundation upon which the rest of our learning is built.

I invest in my students, their feelings, and their potential to learn. I do not believe their first and foremost responsibility is to learn how to comply, Pavlovian in nature. If you can only “control” your students through threats and public humiliation, it’s time to rethink your purpose, teaching philosophy, and moral compass. How would you feel if your principal, administrator, or spouse put you on a popsicle stick chart? Go ahead, imagine it… you talk out of turn, to your grade level partner during inservice (pull a stick!)… you arrive late to a staff meeting because your potty break could only happen as soon as the bell rang and you had bus duty (pull a stick!)…you accidentally forgot to stop at the store and pick up milk (pull a stick!). I’m betting it wouldn’t take long before you’d categorize such behavior as emotionally abusive. How long would you tolerate it? How willing would you be to perform your best? How long could you perform your best while suffering from repeated overdoses of humiliation inducing fight-or-flight adrenalin?

Working with a staff made up of mostly popsicle-stickers can be excruciating. You see your former students squashed into compliance, their new teachers finding fault in their questions, their exuberance, their anxiety, their need to adapt- everything that demonstrates that students are children who require guidance, instruction, experience, and time to reflect on situations that might occur outside of the math or reading curriculum. Relationship-building is seen as a chore, a “touchy-feel-y” approach, instead of as the foundation to which I referred earlier, an essential “safe” zone where students can re-evaluate and recover from natural mistakes. Teachers don’t invest in it because it’s not a quick fix, and it isn’t “done” after a particular grade, though many of them have no problem doing everything possible to ensure that public humiliation goes hand in hand with public education, year after year. Why invest in embarrassment? Invest in reasoning, invest in valuing, invest in fairness, and invest in an attainable and attractive ideal that enables the best kind of learning to take place.

In my classroom you’ll find popsicle sticks in our Creative Construction Zone, math calendar counting chart, or classroom refrigerator, three places they absolutely belong.

Tags: classroom management, discipline, kindergarten

It’s February, but there is something I’m *not* loving at the moment… the all-encompassing FEAR that many/most (if not all) of us have felt for quite some time now. Fear of terrorists, fear of our children “being left behind,” fear of immigrants, fear of gender, fear of race… interesting how we’ve allowed ourselves to be steered in this direction.

Living in the Bordertown gives me visual reminders of fear everyday:

Now these homes aren’t in bad shape, nor are any of these located in what’s considered to be a “bad” neighborhood, but their prison “look” is representative of the rest of the community at large. In my opinion, it doesn’t matter if your gates and bars are painted a complementary color to your home, or if you add swirly curly-q’s to them, or try to make them architecturally interesting by making their line follow the architecture of scalloped walls: you’re still locked in behind those bars, and you’re trying to lock everyone else out. Sure, we outsiders see your fence of fear (oh I know, the manufacturers call it a “security fence”), but you know what? When you’re looking out of your window, so do you. Must be a great view.

Fear.

Somehow, we can deny entry into our country to any music star who might have a drug conviction, but we can’t keep terror cells outside of our own borders. And just when you try to return to Mom, baseball, and apple pie, someone somewhere decides that 9/11 footage should be shown AGAIN. How’s your adrenaline?

Blanket statements about immigration ignore those newbies to our country who came here the “right way,” legally obtaining citizenship. Instead, we’re fed information from a different slant. Many statements (usually racist) made about how all of “our” jobs are being lost, our school/health/welfare systems are overburdened by non-citizens, etc. Riled up yet? Oh wait, is that….adrenaline again?

As a teacher, I resent the fact that many people in this country have bought into fearing me, fearing that I might “leave your child behind.” In twelve years of teaching, somehow I’ve morphed from trusted guide and awesome kindergarten teacher to “She-Who-Must-be-Doubted-and-Feared.” No, my intense interest in finger paint, glue sticks, and songs by Raffi is actually not an indicator of substandard or inappropriate teaching practices. Really. Surprised?

I value my ability to put food on my childrens’ plates, clothes on their backs and someday, Uncle Sam willing, a long-term roof over their heads. I’ve spent a lot of time, a lot of money, and a lot of effort obtaining knowledge from a college I didn’t have to attend in order to learn how to teach well. I complement my educational expertise with ongoing training in child/parental psychology, health and nutrition guidance, nurse/EMT training, multi-cultural awareness, sociology and communications, technological advances, and a slew of other areas of specialty, again, so that I can do my job well. I utilize developmentally appropriate practices and I believe children are very different from adults (and should be allowed to be so).

In my classroom you’ll see children BEING CHILDREN, learning through experience and exploration, expressing themselves, sharing, laughing, singing, and yes full-day-kindergarten-advocates, taking naps. Sorry folks, but no matter what politicians or testing company CEO’s try to tell you, duct taping students’ fannies to their chairs multiple times per week to assess their knowledge gained actually results in kiddos spending less time participating in activities and experiences that enhance and facilitate their learning.

Stop. Think. Breathe. You can understand this one, really. If you have to take your kids to soccer, then to the store to get new pants, then over to the dentist’s for an appointment, then over to the bank to deposit a check, how are you putting your family’s photo album together at home? And when? If you keep taking kids away from their teacher, and keep making them spend extra time on math and reading in isolation in order to pass a single test, when are they going to learn how to play an instrument (which by the way, would offer yet another way for a child to have an “a-ha moment” in regard to both math and reading!), have time to explore literary genres, or learn a foreign language and exercise their bodies? After school? Uh, honey, check the newest after-school activity list: here in the Bordertown you won’t find band, babysitting, or computers. You’ll find TAKS TUTORING. When did you decide that it was okay to no longer value your child’s creativity? His or her inner song? Interests? Gifts? Mental, physical, and emotional health? Did you learn best by sitting in a chair, day in and out, in a room filled with silence, or are your most vivid memories of learning filled with sights, sounds, textures, smells, exertion, emotion, and interest?

Someone told us to be scared. And we bought it.

What other messages of fear have you been fed lately? Which ones have you gulped down, hook, line and sinker? And to whom has it been of benefit?

Questions to ponder… I know, they’ll tick some of you off:

What’s the big threat, really, of having a president whose anatomy includes breasts and a vagina? Same goes for a male president whose family tree doesn’t solely include ancestors who were Elmer’s Glue “white.” A president represents his or her entire nation, all colors, sexes, creeds, and beliefs. In order to do so, s/he must have a diverse background, advisers who are paradigm shifters, and the ability to understand that the most honest answers (and best solutions to problems) will come from going straight to each horse’s mouth. Please stop talking to CEO’s and other salespeople about how I should be doing my job. Talk to child advocates, other teachers, parents, and children. Fame does not equal credibility. Donald Trump and Bill Gates may be Googled more than I am, but that doesn’t mean they could do my job better than I do it. Their business models are MODELS FOR BUSINESS, not for teaching and guiding young children in ways that will enable them to lead enriched, expressive, generous and tolerant lives.

Presidents aren’t perfect, they’re human, and will make some mistakes. But isn’t it time to have hope again- hope that our president will stop serving a single agenda, and stop steering us with fear? We’re not just a nation at war. Americans are starving, we are homeless, we are displaced. We have no health care. Our environment is suffering, a lot of people are depressed. And we are allowing ourselves to be herded like sheep with scare tactics.

Eek! A woman! Eek! Someone with brown skin! Eek! Someone who isn’t a teacher has told us to be afraid of education! Eek! A Republican! Eek! A Democrat! Eek, someone whose marital decisions entitle little ol’ me to judge them! Eek, a veteran! Eek, a non-veteran! Eek, someone whose religious practices don’t match my own! Eek, a person who doesn’t photograph well! Eek, change!

Any idea why our nation’s enemies find us so deserving of their attention? Why we are viewed as predictable and easily-targeted drones? Oh, go ahead spin doctors… our nation is the strongest in the world, our American way of life is awe-inspiring, so other countries and cultures fear us and our strength and our divine right to demand compliance from them, er, our desire that they accept our generous gift of democracy, yadda yadda yadda…

Sweethearts, I’m an American woman with a multi-cultural background who teaches students in our public educational system. I’m a mother, and I’m the proud wife of a United States soldier. Members of my father’s family are considered “indigenous” people, meaning they were here on this continent, living on the land that is part of our present nation, long before my mother’s family arrived on the boat. I would be proud if my children chose to serve in the military, and I would proud if they chose to become doctors, mechanics, computer techs, non-fiction writers, woodworkers, or rocket scientists. I appreciate the fact that it is your tax dollars that move and house me and my family with each new military assignment my husband receives, but I also know that it’s my family’s tax dollars moving and supporting us too.

Hope isn’t frivolous. Hope isn’t a fad. And regardless of what you’ve been told, Hope isn’t going to bring our enemies “into our backyards.” We can be a nation of hope, and have a strong, capable, and appropriately equipped military to defend it. We can be a nation of hope, and provide our children with the best education possible (once we stop taking money away from our students to give it to corporations- yes, I said “students,”not “schools”). We can be a nation of hope and require that all immigrants join us legally. We can be a nation of hope and of health and provide for ourselves as much as our political-correctness inspires us to demonstrate care for others.

It’s time hope returned to our nation. I VOTE FOR HOPE.

Candidates, please deliver, regardless of your political party’s affiliation. All of America is your party.

Tags: Bordertown, NCLB, rant

Like most teachers, I have many wonderful memories of each year’s group of students I’ve taught. Those funny moments, hysterical stories, soul-searching questions and eager explorations could fill a book effectively mapping my teaching career. They are more milestones to me than any of my teaching evaluations could ever be.

As a kindergarten teacher, I don’t always feel that I’m teaching lessons or concepts in the traditional sense. What I do feels more interactive and social in much the same way I find myself operating when I’m in “military spouse mode.” Meeting new people, making introductions, following social etiquette, trying to put people at ease, guiding the audience to feel welcome… the same format applies when I’m seated with five and six year olds on the floor, ready to sing or share a story.

Each year, one of my favorite “introductions” is between my Super Stars and Martin Luther King Jr.

My students enjoy some background stories and information, Weekly Reader or Scholastic usually provide take-home fliers, posters and activities, and then we listen to the “I Have a Dream” speech. In its entirety. And every year that my students have listened to the speech, you could have heard a pin drop on carpet. The wigglers, the blurters, the most animated of children, all transfixed, for the entire speech.

There’s something about listening to a message that has purpose and truth behind it- even children can intuitively feel the speaker’s intent. Some of my favorite student comments:

“Teacher, I like that man. He said I could go to school with my friends.”

“He has a big voice, but he’s not scary or mean.”

“Did his dream come true, Teacher?”

Introduction made. Talk amongst yourselves.

Tags: Martin Luther King Jr.

I have a teacher voice. A mommy voice too. Being a kindergarten teacher and mother means that my “voice” doesn’t match the voice of a drill sergeant, doesn’t match the voice of a ticked off assistant principal in a high school, and certainly doesn’t match the voice of an assertive police officer in a touchy situation. I have to *explain* as I make a request, because the young ones I tend to deal with don’t have as much background knowledge or frames of reference that will clue them in quickly to what I need modified or addressed. Emergency situations are an entirely different matter, as no one misses or ignores any tone I use with alarm, and no one needs an explanation before trying to determine if they feel any motivation to respond as quickly as possible when they hear me use it.

We attended my daughter’s Christmas band concert this evening. It might have been an enjoyable event if only the audience’s behavior wasn’t such a long, drawn out train wreck. My blood pressure rose as my anticipation of my daughter’s performance plummeted. Teens and their siblings ran through the audience in the gym, running up to orchestra and band members snapping pictures on cell phones as the performers were warming up and tuning their instruments. Parents loudly chatted, played with cell phone ringers (no, they weren’t turning them off), and ignored their offsprings’ shouts, inappropriate comments and choice of vocabulary. I withstood four hits to the back of my head from teens running up and down the bleachers, not a single apology uttered once. Full-fledged conversations were being had in regular speaking voices throughout the first two musical pieces performed, and those of us who turned around to look at the chatters got rolled eyes, laughter and pointing as a response. Finally, I put my hand on a student’s foot (he had been kicking my side tapping his foot offbeat to the music) and whispered “Sweetheart, it’s not your turn to talk or make noise, it’s your turn to listen.” I followed it with a smile, and received a quick blush and nod in return.

My teacher voice worked on one student out of nine. You see, once young Master Foot was seen correcting his behavior, his cronies had to get louder and more obnoxious, perhaps in some attempt to avenge his honor. And every parent around me *let it go.* I watched a handful of other parents try to move inconspicuously away from other obnoxious teens and children, to no avail. There was no escape, no quiet area where we could listen for our child’s solo, listen to inspiring music, or enjoy the progress the band had made since the beginning of the year. I just about left the concert in tears, only because my other reaction would have been to have taken children by the collars to their parents and demanded an answer to “what the he** are you thinking?!?!?!?!?!”

I spent the first ten years of my life in this very Bordertown, living on the “poor” side of the mountain, maybe a mile from where we’re posted now, so I know it wasn’t always like this. I remember when the haves and the have nots equally spent time raising children to be welcome. Immigrant or local, English-only, Spanish-only, or bilingual speakers, all parents, grandparents, and neighbors encouraged (required!) children to say “please, thank you,” and “apologies.” “Excuse me,” “no thank you,” yes Ma’am, yes Sir,” were also regularly heard and rewarded with “what good manners you have!” Young children were left with babysitters, children old enough to attend performances were expected to sit still, save questions for later, and make necessary comments quietly. They understood the audience wasn’t there to see them, they were there to see the performers. Every school-aged child in the district attended two theater performances a year as a district requirement, and yes, we knew the expectations our teachers and families had of us. No longer, apparently.

As a side note, I’ll offer that it’s difficult to keep an audience on track and engaged when both the band and orchestra directors apparently have no clue when it comes to the choreography required when beginning, intermediate, and advanced musicians all perform on the same night, in this case, on the same gym floor. I’m fairly certain my old orchestra teacher, Mr. H., has passed on, and is probably rolling in his grave. If Mr. A. is still alive and kicking, he’s certainly been admitted to the Looney Bin by now if he’s witnessed performances like this, by both students and directors alike.

So, using my teacher voice, here are some suggestions (not that the local teens, teachers, parents, or musical directors care):

1) Please learn that there are times when it’s your turn to talk, and times when it’s your turn to listen. You don’t always get to choose which times happen when. Consideration isn’t a sign of weakness, it’s a sign of respect, respect you’ll receive in return.

2) Even if no one has formally taught you how to behave at concerts, plays, debates, worship services, or meetings, it’s okay to read the cues provided by the seemingly more reflective, calm, and observant audience members, and follow their lead. No, Joey belching out the alphabet during a band performance of the Hallelujah Chorus is not the best choice of role model. Sorry.

3) There is a difference between a musical or theatrical performance and a pep rally. Therefore there is a difference between the behaviors demonstrated at those events. Figure out the difference, and behave accordingly.

4) Just because your sister told you that Mary Jane was going to dye her hair blue before a concert doesn’t mean that once you get to said concert you need to shout out at EVERY inopportune time “HEY MARY JANE, LOVE THE DOPE HAIR! WOOT WOOT!” Either quietly admire the hair, or laugh about it under your breath, but either way, talk to Mary Jane AFTER the concert please. She’ll wait. Really.

5) School band concerts are actually not precursors to American Idol audience tapings, Jerry Springer reruns, or reality show soap operas. If you’re in the audience, I’m sorry, but it’s not about *you*. It’s about the people who have practiced, learned, developed and are sitting on stage now sharing with others. You don’t get the stage, therefore you don’t get the attention. It’s not your turn all of the time, no matter what You Tube, MySpace, and your lazy or absent parents have led you to believe.

6) Band and orchestra directors, when you’re rotating different groups of performers in and out of the performance or “stage” areas, *stop rearranging the furniture* and taking twelve minutes (yes, TWELVE) to rotate thirteen students out and twenty-three students in. It’s very easy. Set up ALL of the chairs and music stands you’re going to need. Then either choose to seat ALL band members, regardless of skill level together on stage, with students only performing when it’s their turn (yes, those not performing are capable of sitting quietly with their instruments across their laps), OR center the beginning group in the middle of the seats, leaving the extras empty, and then have them all walk off, row by row, to the left after their performance while the next group of students is walking on-stage, row by row, from the right. If the next group is bigger, they’ll take up more seats, but can still seat themselves center stage. Takes a *little* practice, but the end result is faster, safer, more efficient, and more professional than the thudding, crashing, and bashing of chairs, stands, and instruments (!), and the barking of directions to students too nervous to be listening and understanding clearly.

TWELVE MINUTES? No *wonder* you couldn’t get the audience back for the closing pieces! DOPE HAIR, MARY JANE!!!!!

Oh wait, that wasn’t my teacher voice, was it?

Tags: Bordertown, rant

… and when we have students, teens, young adults who care, have conviction, and demonstrate *class*, people like Rush Limbaugh don’t like it.

Let’s face it, what on earth would indigenous peoples know about the environment in which they live, and why would they care when their observations of and connections to said environment indicated problems (yes, sarcasm intended)?

Feel free to check out Tribal Lands Climate Conference

and of course, An Inconvenient Truth.

And don’t worry, it’s really OKAY if you let common sense creep into your very being, no matter what Rush is regurgitating. Good job Charlee!

Alice’s post at In Practice was a good read this morning. Addressing how to handle diversity in schools, neighborhoods, and society IS a tough issue, and not just for Caucasian folks. Many people simply want to know how and IF (and when and where) to acknowledge ethnic/cultural diversity. The acts of asking someone about his or her background, of learning something new, of trying to be considerate, making sure no one feels looked over, left out, or unwelcome can actually be awkward for people thanks to humankind’s history, no matter how enlightened, unbiased, worldly, just plain kind and inquisitive, or politically correct they may be. But more than some people do feel threatened by anything outside of their own comfort zone, allowing assumptions and stereotyping to influence what I feel are their fear-based behaviors. For some personal history:

I’m a half Eskimo, half Caucasian female born in Kentucky, raised for the first ten years of my life in a bordertown in TX. I lived the next twenty five years of my life in an Eskimo village, a small farming town, and a college town in Alaska. Being a woman who has often been incorrectly stereotyped throughout her life, I grew up wondering who and what I was “supposed” to be with each new hometown locale we moved to. In many cases I was too “brown” for predominantly white communities, and too “white” for predominantly brown communities. A half-Caucasian half-Inupiaq Eskimo girl raised in Texas, eating pâté de foie gras, enchiladas, and hamburgers, while interested in learning French, how to make parkas, and playing the clarinet and violin was apparently an interesting addition to many schools and neighborhoods. I am brunette with dark brown eyes and I tan like nobody’s business. Many people assume I am Hispanic. Others admit they assume I am “something,” but they’re not quite sure *what*. As an adult, I’ve moved as a military dependent and have been stationed in New Mexico, Kansas and Texas, driving through the states each time a new move is required. Teaching in culturally diverse schools has been the norm for me even in places like Kansas thanks to the high military population.

As a young child, my mother was regularly asked if I was a “Vietnamese war orphan.” When I was in the third grade (here in the bordertown), I got in trouble with my Spanish teacher and school principal for “not speaking my language,” which according to them was my mother’s fault, as she is white. I told the teacher and principal I was Eskimo and was then accused of lying. My mother brought my Bureau of Indian Affairs card in to the principal and told her that yes, while the accusations of my mother not making sure I spoke SPANISH were accurate, it was in fact because in addition to English, I should have been speaking Inupiaq, a language NOT taught in Texas. The harassment from the Hispanic teacher and Hispanic principal stopped. The irony? I did speak Spanish with my Spanish-speaking-only friends on the playground or outside of school.

As a junior in high school, my family lived in Fairbanks, Alaska. The school I attended was the largest I’d ever seen at that time, most students either already sorted or in the process of sorting themselves into social cliques. As the weather cooled, I chose to wear a parka to school that I had made. Standing inside in the commons area waiting for the first bell to ring, still wearing “outdoor gear,” students visited with their friends. The punks, the jocks, the band kids, the geeks, the gearheads, etc. were all separated and socializing in their staked-out territories as were the students who sorted themselves by cultural heritage or grade (only the seniors seemed to have license to roam free, socializing or harassing students from any group). I stood with a friend from the bus, talking and laughing, wondering what our French teacher had in store for us that day, when I noticed two students from what appeared to be the “African American Group” pointing, smiling, nodding, laughing, and pointing some more at me from across the room. After some quizzical looks on my part, one of the boys came over, laughing, and told me “we’re getting a good laugh, ’cause here you are, wearing that coat, that Eskimo coat, pretending you’re a native, when everyone here knows you’re half Black.” I was floored, not because I perceived what he was saying was an insult, but because somehow I had become a joke based on what people who didn’t know me at all thought about me- what they had decided about me all on their own, without asking.

In Alaska, I attended WEIO (World Eskimo Indian Olympics) each year with my Inupiaq grandparents, mother and sister, and I learned how prejudiced my “minority” grandparents really were. When my grandparents encountered girls from families they knew from the village at the sporting events and in the artisans’ gallery, I was quickly introduced. But if those girls had African American friends or boyfriends with them, the girls themselves were blatantly shunned by my grandparents by not being offered the traditional outstretched hand or even eye contact. After the girls left the area, my grandmother would scoff, shake her head, and gossip while returning to her beadwork. Interestingly enough, several years later, girls my grandparents had originally shunned who had gone on to have children with African American males were warmly welcomed back into the fold because “taqsipak” (mixed skin color/heritage) babies were considered the most beautiful. I have never spoken fluent Inupiaq. My grandmother has often told me she was glad all of her children “listened to” her when she told them in their youth that they needed to “marry white people to get ahead.” My father, and all of my aunts and uncles did just that after graduating from high schools outside of Alaska (Bureau of Indian Affairs “boarding” schools where Inupiaq language and culture were not allowed).

Visiting family in Oklahoma for the baptism of my daughter, I was put into social situations where neighbors, church patrons, and most locals would ask “what ARE you?” After one inquiry led to a tense half-hour-long question/answer session explaining my ethnic backgroud in a greasy spoon diner, the owner of the establishment with whom I was speaking finally offered his hand to shake, pulled me in close and said “well at least it WORKS FOR YOU.” Yes, he was referring to what he assumed was my heritage. Yes, I was offended, because I couldn’t understand why he felt there was an actual NEED to determine whether or not I was deserving of polite interaction (and frankly service in his diner) in the first place. I didn’t care about his skin color, but he certainly felt he needed to make a few decisions based on MINE.

Thankfully throughout my life I have had family members, friends, and teachers who have encouraged me to “keep the best and toss the crap” of my life’s experiences. I prefer duck soup (made on the beach in Barrow during Naluqatak) over muktuk, “real” enchiladas over Mrs. Stouffer’s, and pâté over okra any day! While a fluent English speaker, I enjoy expanding my vocabulary with conversational phrases, expressions and vocabulary from other languages. Perhaps someday I’ll be fluent in either French or Spanish, though I have little hope of speaking Inupiaq as long as I’m away from Alaska. Sign language also comes in handy, pardon the pun. I have an eclectic taste when it comes to my preferences for home decor, fashion, literature, music and hobbies. I can make a parka, mouton mittens, and sew a fur ruff to finish it all off, and enjoy counted cross stitch and crocheting. A wonderful teacher in high school taught me how to make wonton- she was Chinese, while my German friends have vowed to teach me how to make sauerkraut one of these days.

I am aware that I am more likely to have problems with alcohol abuse and diabetes because of BOTH my native and non-native heritages, but my crooked teeth come from my father’s side of the family, and my penchant for sparkely jewelry from my mother’s. I don’t care to go fishing, but certainly love my Aaka’s smoked salmon and her deep-fried halibut bites with salmonberry jam. I’m no hunter, but can make a mean moose pot pie thanks to my mother. I like theater but not opera, and the rhythm of the Barrow Dance Team’s drums is a sound (and feeling) I’ve missed for the last five years. Mariachi music makes Mexican food taste better, if that’s possible.

I will admit that my mother’s family would probably feel more comfortable in my home than my father’s. We live different lifestyles. We have different tastes. We have different philosophies and beliefs. And it’s okay. To me. And there’s the problem. Diversity is okay to people who aren’t threatened by it, to those people who are selective in their preferences without having fear or cruelty dictate their tastes, whose intentions are kind, inquisitive, or at the very least, polite. I haven’t met too many people who fit that description. Not in neighborhoods, not in churches, not in restaurants, and unfortunately, not even in schools.

Tags: cultural diversity, education

There are as many different perspectives as there are people and animals in the world, right?

Which makes what I’ve been pondering for the past few years frustrating: how do people (leaving other animals out of the equation for the time being) reach agreement on “big issues” so that we can best function and work toward a common goal? Let’s use education and teaching for this examination.

There are at least twelve different grade levels in the public school system. There are different developmental stages that most humans experience (and observe others working their way through) over the course of a lifetime. Most teachers and other adults acknowledge and generally comprehend which differences exist between a kindergarten student and a fifth grader, between a second grader, and an eighth grader, between a seventh grader and a senior in high school, thanks to Vygotsky, Piaget, heck, even Freud and the college professors who introduced many of us to their findings and assertions! Curriculum materials, social scripts, vocabulary are all supposed to be geared in an appropriate way for each age group or grade, and there **are** differences to be found in all of the materials offered up to students in grades very near to one another. First graders build upon skills learned in kindergarten, second graders build upon skills developed in the first grade and kindergarten before that, etc.

But many teachers, administrators, parents, and politicians tend to blur the lines when it comes to what they (teachers et al.) want from and expect of children. Students are now expected to reach A.Y.P. no matter their age or grade. To quote a former student of mine, “Teacher, how come the principal keeps telling me about L-M-N-O-P?” Yes. “L-M-N-O-P.” The response that popped into my head was “Because Honey, the principal has no clue what kindergarten students think, see, or feel, because if she did, she wouldn’t be wasting your time with fifty dollar words and abbreviations that make no sense and are of no relevance to how you perceive your school experiences.” No, I didn’t say it. I had some other, more developmentally appropriate answer for her that 1) reassured her that she wasn’t in trouble and that she’d understand when she was older (because yes, she appeared concerned that she had upset the principal) and 2) kept me from jeopardizing a nice letter of recommendation for future use.

Number crunched data obtained from students in abnormal testing situations once per year (or MUCH more often!), or obtained from a computer program that cannot and does not take a student’s personality, needs, quirks and feelings into consideration are considered very accurate and reliable indicators of who and what those students are. Of what they are capable, of what they “need” in order to make L-M-N-O-P. So tests and computers are the most utilized “tools” in schools now. And all children, regardless of age or grade, are expected to use them efficiently and accurately, as well as operate within the school’s own set of rules and expectations. “Accomplish NOW.” “A magic sprinkling of perfect-walking, perfect lining-up, perfectly-quiet-in-the-hallways, perfect potty-flushing, perfect indoor-voices, perfect test-taking, perfect social-skills” dust has been dumped on your heads as you walked in the door. No matter your age, your previous life experiences (or lack thereof, after all, some of you are only five years old), your cultural background, your socio-economic status, or your gender, you WILL be PERFECT. Because I said so. And if you’re not, I get to yell. A lot. Or blow a whistle at you. Or berate you and your teacher for not making sure that you behave PERFECTLY. Oh, and hey, YOU obviously didn’t try hard enough, and neither did your parents because YOU are part of the sub-group that made US fail to meet L-M-N-O-P.” No pressure. And don’t you find the message oh-so-appropriate for children of all ages?

This type of message wouldn’t work for any adult in any workplace- in fact, it would be considered abusive. A lot of employees would quit, transfer, or, if forced to stay in the job by financial need, would do the bare minimum each day and dread every moment he or she had to spend on site. How do people in the arena of public education, those guides for our children, allow who and what children ARE to be replaced by percentages and data sheets? Relationship building, once so important, and necessary for helping keep students IN SCHOOL and keeping parents and families involved, has been thrown by the wayside. So in walks the discrepancy that has been frustrating me for a while now and that makes me wish I could say the following things in the following situations:

“Excuse me, but your students aren’t displaying appropriate audience behavior.”

Response: Thank you for noticing. Appropriate audience behavior is a skill that needs to be practiced and developed over time. Obviously my students have not had such practice before coming to my class this year. Have you noticed how eager they are? Behaving as all NORMAL children do when thrust into a new situation? They’re looking, they’re expressing themselves verbally, they’re stimulated by all of the new faces, sounds, the decor, and it’s all hitting them like a freightrain. And somehow you expect them to sit quietly, eyes forward, and participate in choral responses they’ve never heard before. Hmmmmm…… we’ll be WORKING ON IT.

“Your student wouldn’t answer me! So I told him/her that I was going to talk to his/her teacher and we’d get this straightened out because I expect all students to respond to me appropriately and follow our school rules!”

Response: Thank you for bringing me your concern. And please, let me tell you what realm kindergarten students are in when they see an adult, who is a stranger, coming down on them like a ton of bricks.

1) If the child is from a large family, where using loud voices is probably the only way he or she is heard…. or where parents have to use loud voices to get the child’s attention because of the mayhem in the house… that child is going to NOT HEAR YOU, **OR** WILL TUNE YOU OUT JUST LIKE HE/SHE DOES TO HIS/HER PARENTS. It’s not a conspiracy. I promise. Most five year olds don’t wake up each morning thinking “Oh yeah, I think I’ll mess with the third grade teacher today- she thinks she’s got authority over me, but when that bell rings at recess, I’ll show her who’s the MAN.” Stop taking it so personally. As much as you hate it, you’re not that important a person to my students. Why not? Because **I** am. Most parents and adults who deal with young children understand that kindergarten students still occupy their own universes. Learning to share resources, toys, and a teacher’s attention requires each child’s acceptance that he or she is no longer the king or queen of his or her domain. Yep, it’s a real “stage.” Developmental even. **I’m** lucky to have been given permission to wear the crown! As a result, I too, live in the ME-ME-ME world: My students will respond to ME. They will watch ME for my signals, for my facial expressions, and will work primarily toward obtaining my acceptance. See, it’s really MY world (wink!)! Put down your whistle, take a deep breath, count to ten. Eat some chocolate.

2) If the child has never experienced some stranger (yes, YOU, even if you wear a name-badge, even if you walk in the same hallways that we do each day- you’re a STRANGER) telling him/her what to do, demanding behavior of him/her, and forcing a consequence on him/her for behavior and skills still being learned and fine-tuned, the child will be scared. Terrified in some cases. Which is apparently what many teachers are hoping for. They want to scare children into “behaving.” Most kindergarten students will not be scared into “behaving.” They will be scared of YOU. They will be scared of school. And they will dread the thought that if they’re “good at school” and finish kindergarten, first, second, or whatever grade, they get YOU as their next teacher. Nice going. Way to get those kids happy, involved, eager to please, and performing optimally for your L-M-N-O-P. Oh and by the way, you turn me into their defender, instead of their guide and teacher. Thanks so much for building an aura of fear into a place where children are a captive audience for at least twelve years. I’m sure they’ll want to fulfill your expections (and become healthy, productive, life-long-learners) just the way you want. Yes, that would be sarcasm.

3) By the way, would you EVER let another person speak to you the same way you spoke to and about my student? Yes? Then get a spine and the voice to back it up. If you wouldn’t, then why on Earth would you ever consider speaking that way to a child who lacks the emotional coping skills to deal with what you are saying and how you are acting? Hellooooooooo, McFly! How would you feel if a teacher spoke that way to your child? Your niece or nephew? Your grandchild? If it wouldn’t be okay for them, it’s NOT okay for anyone else (hello Golden Rule!), whether you’re in a grumpy mood or not. Oh and by the way, if it WOULD be okay for your child or any of your other relatives? Your parenting skills aren’t the only ones out there. Some parents will NOT appreciate your approach. And they would be correct. And yes, you’ll have to respect their input and directives when they correct you, even though you won’t agree with it. And you’ll have to compromise. You’re a grown up. Do it.

4) Were you aware that there’s a great big world out there? Full of different cultures, different languages, different abilities and disabilities? As you raise your voice with my students, I hope you remember that yes, to some, you really ARE speaking Greek! To others, you’re moving your facial muscles in a really interesting pattern, because hey, they can’t hear you. For some of my culturally diverse students, your insistence that they look you in the eye, or refrain from moving backward as you invade their personal space is considered MISBEHAVIOR in their homes. And no, being five year olds, they’re not used to discriminating between home, family, and school yet, though I can guarantee that they’re certainly developing a strong bias against YOU. Ever heard of ADD? Autism? Auditory or visual difficulties? How about speech and language delays? Learning disabilities? Of course you have. Now, tie into your professional knowledge the following reminder: my students are only five years old. Not thirteen, not twenty-three. Not forty-five. FIVE. They do not, and will not have the skills to self-moniter or self-accomodate in order to address whatever their individual needs might be. Right now, they’re still trying to remember that it’s okay to leave the blocks center to use the bathroom in enough time to prevent an “accident.”

5) You are a role model. And you’re modeling horrible behavior. You’ve just taught my students that grown ups tattle after throwing their own hissy fits. You want my students to “know” you’re “right.” Well, you’ve taught my students that you will threaten them, and no, they won’t think you’re “right” to do it. Because little kid logic is an element in and of its’ own. You want a kindergartner to think like you? To walk around in your shoes? Dream on Baby. YOU need to get down on your knees and crawl around in the classroom, the hallways, and on the playground, not because I’m trying to make you submissive or punish you, but because you need to see the world through a five year old’s eyes. And remember, you’re still probably half a head taller than my students when you are on your knees. You have a lifetime of experiences and coping skills (kind of) that they don’t. That they won’t for years to come. Who knew the ceiling was really that high? Who knew the teachers were really that frighteningly tall? Who knew the water fountain was so hard to operate with such tiny hands? Who knew how hard the walls were when older and bigger students pushed you into them? My students will not learn how to put themselves in the shoes of their friends, their teachers, or anyone else in two weeks’ time. Get used to it. And by the way, put yourself in their shoes. Regularly. You’ll be a better teacher and person if you do.

I belong to a profession whose members can’t make up their collective minds HOW to “be” with students. With children. These are smart, highly educated adults, professionals. Who read the journals. Who read the articles. Who attend the inservices. Who share the books and recommend educational authors. Who have forgotten that the children they serve are human beings, and not numbers to crunch. Who have themselves, broken every appropriate rule when it comes to building trust, encouraging imagination, and helping the whole child and their families, emotions and all. Who then look at children today and say “I remember when students were well behaved. I remember when kindergarten students knew the rules. I remember when….” all the time.

Here’s a hint to educational old timers, teachers, administrators, politicians and parents alike: When you start saying “I remember when” phrases with negative follow ups about your students and mine every day, it’s time for you to quit. You’ve lost the big picture, you’re burnt out, and you, yes, you, are doing more harm than good. You’re not a failure, you’re just DONE with this part. Time to regroup. Move on. Solve the problem, shift the paradigm. You know, the way you expect all children to be able to do. Right now.

And of course, most of you won’t quit. You need your retirement. You need your paycheck and it’s too difficult to “start over” again. Or, you’re too lazy. Hmmmm…. now you’ve taught the kids that it’s okay to do a bad job. To settle. To hurt others because of your own lack of initiative. And you wonder why children behave the way they do. I think the kids have gotten the message loud and clear, and frankly, I’d appreciate it if you’d keep your mixed messages to yourself. Please stay out of my room, stay out my students’ faces, and let me, and my kids, do our jobs. Safely. Emotionally and physically. Effectively. On an appropriate timeline, not your ridiculous one-size-fits-no-one model. If you’d like some recommended titles or authors to help you reconnect with the mindset of young children so that you can return to your days as an effective and respected teacher, let me know. But stop with the bullhorns and barking. I for one, am NOT scared. I for one, know better. I know the truth and the bottom line. And it’s not “A.Y.P.”

It’s “L-M-N-O-P.”