Tending the Eclectic Kinder-Garden

I’ve been doing “the mom thing” today. All day.

I’m going on a trip on Friday- a*four day* trip- back to Oz to see friends, their new babies, and do some treasure hunting. Yes, only four days. Get there on Friday afternoon, and leave around Monday, lunchtime. But to visit Oz, I am leaving my dear husband, my thirteen year old daughter, my toddler son, and my cat here in the Bordertown. For four days. Without moi. So the “mom thing” that I’ve been doing has included:

~anticipating any and all grocery needs/emergencies/cravings

~ shopping for said groceries

~making sure the laundry is done

~making sure Daughter puts all of her school and social activities on the calendar

~making sure Daddy knows to *check the calendar* in case he has to pick her up from school (and he WILL have to)

~ watering the plants

~ and any other housecleaning-type-jobs that I just won’t feel good about leaving undone before leaving.

So when do I pack? When do I figure out what toiletries to take, clothes, shoes, etc? Eh, the night before. Packing doesn’t stress me out- I’ve told friends I’m not a “panic packer.” If I forget something, I know how to stop at a store to correct the situation. No, what to wear, what to bring, how much room I’ll have to bring stuff home…these things don’t bother me.

Imagining the state of disarray the house will be in upon my return…THAT bothers me. While secretly grateful that my husband will have a smidgen of a taste of what I’ve done for years while he’s been TDY or deployed, I still know Daughter will end up taking up the slack. A lot of it. The toddler has entered a Destructo-Mode recently, requiring much more hands-on time, and exponentially more clean-up time, and the cat has begun to feel more comfortable expressing her displeasure with the boy whenever he chases her under the beds or couches. I fear the phone calls I’m going to receive. I’ve had nightmares for the last two nights in a row. I know, I’m over-reacting, but hey, it’s “the mom thing.”

More “mom thing” related documentation:

Daughter’s Valentine Treat Bags are almost done (just need cookies and the pecan/rolo/pretzel nummies added, then bows tied on), as are her cards:

Cookies? What cookies? Oh yeah, I need to make cookies! Red and pink sugar was added later:

While cleaning out the fridge, I found a lone pie dough roll…oh darn, I guess that means I’ll just *have* to make date and marmalade pastries:

For a pick-me-up, I enjoyed a snack, er, “taste test” of the cookies:

…and then right as I was wandering back toward Worrysville, darling husband appeared with these:

Okay, so maybe I shouldn’t worry about him, the kids, and the cat…

Maybe.

Tags: crafts, family, military life

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

I’m up *way* too early this morning thanks to my toddler and have tried to transition from my bleary-eyed-morning-grogginess to some sort of state of alertness by enjoying a mug of coffee and some blog-browsing. My reading has included a posting at Schools Matter about the TAKS here in Texas, and how gee, surprise surprise, teachers are teaching the test at the expense of information about social studies, science, etc. Shared by Jim Horan, the commentary is from teacher Paula Whiteley, a teacher I’m seeing eye-to-eye with this year after moving to a bordertown in the Lone Star State.

TAKS has been impacting my daughter, an eighth grader since our arrival. Her stress and boredom with school has only been soothed by extra curricular activites like volleyball (somehow, this district allows students her age to have sports practice at five thirty in the morning- yes, five thirty in the MORNING!) and our reassurances that we won’t be stationed here forever. When she does well on the TAKS practice tests (oh yes, we hear all about TAKS practice, which seems to have been happening since school started) and is acknowledged for it, some of her peers who haven’t done as well target her with cutting comments, glares, and that silent-yet-deadly communication that many teenagers master early on.

Our daughter will always do well on the test, and not thanks to all of the practice and disregard for her REAL education that this state (and nation) has so blatantly put into place. She will score well because of her family, our resources, our ability to give her enriching life experiences, our care, and the choices we actively make for her education. She will do well because of those highly qualified, caring teachers that have found ways to do their job not *because* of NCLB, but in spite of it. In the past, we have felt that our taxes, our classroom and school donations of materials and time have been of some benefit to her economically disadvanted classmates.

Yes, there’s obvious inequality. And NCLB doesn’t appear to be making it better for those students who sit in classes with my daughter every day. After reading the introductory letters from her teachers the first week of school and sending them BACK to her teachers, corrected by me, I’m not impressed with the district’s choices of who would be best suited to deliver a comprehensive curriculum, provide educationally enriching activites, and help to inspire my daughter’s future educational endeavors. Oh wait, that’s because they weren’t hired nor expected to do those things- they are expected to get all students to pass the TAKS, no matter what.

It’s the end of October, and my daughter has done one book report so far. One. She hasn’t asked for chemistry help, hasn’t asked us about current events for social studies, hasn’t mentioned any meetings for National Junior Honor Society of which she is a member. Her band concert last week was… is there a word to describe “worse than mediocre?” She’s been asking to go to the book store (yay, I’m glad she’s continued this habit) to buy new books to read in school when she’s finished the TAKS practice and her classmates continue to work for hours afterward. Yes, she’s stuck in the room with them, having to be quiet, not rustle any papers or materials from her bookbag, waiting until they finish. I resent not only what TAKS and other nationwide tests are taking away from my daughter, but how they blatantly deny what disadvantaged students really need to get ahead: a quality, well-rounded, experience-rich education that yes, for whatever reason, might only be accessible to them at school.

Is anyone really going to be surprised when my daughter’s classmates attempt to go to college and are denied admittance because of their entrance exam scores, which will hopefully NOT be fudged by proctors?

So without further ado: Thank you to Bev, for encouraging my daughter to experience kindergarten (and life) as a whole person, curiosity, apprehension, silliness and all, writing in pistachio or chocolate pudding, playing dress up, shaking her sillies out, bonding with boys more than girls, as she wore her girlie braids and dresses almost every day of the year. Thank you to Rich, who taught my daughter that no, she wasn’t going to get in trouble for defending herself on the playground and that science was a hands-on, fun activity that anyone could do, even if they couldn’t yet read in the first grade. Thank you to John, the teacher who built a relationship of trust with my daughter, quietly and calmly nudging her into the world of reading, recognizing she was a late bloomer, but knowing that she WOULD bloom, nonetheless, in the second grade. Tammy, our girl became more expressive, and really felt she could spread her wings in your class, even though I was in a classroom across the hall from you! To this day she remembers Fairbanks history because of the play your students presented. Lisa and Marilyn, you should see the chapter books/novels our daughter loves to read now! And you should see how well she navigates the web, knowing how to search for, locate, and apply the information she finds for her needs! She was able to have two teachers in the fourth grade thanks to you both, which helped her greatly when we moved and she was introduced to a multiple-teacher-per-grade-structure. Bryant, she’s enjoying volleyball and tennis both in and out of school because early on, she wasn’t made to feel afraid in P.E. class, and you told her that you knew she could do it. She still has her National Physical Fitness patches!

Terri, while snakes kind of gross our daughter out, she learned so much watching them, feeding them, caring for them while she was in your class. Her introduction to life away from Alaska was a smoother transition than we thought it would be because of your hands-on, humorous approach, and welcoming attitude toward all students. To the Kansas middle school staff, we never felt our daughter was just a number to you. She had her favorite teachers of course, but she felt she could come to any of you as resources for her projects, inquiries, and not only academic help, but social as well as she worked her way out of teenie-bopperdom to teenagehood. Thank you for grading her honestly, answering my emails, and teaching us how student-led conferences really don’t have to be a way of teachers bailing out of talking with parents. Our daughter continues to “dialogue” with us and others because you helped to make it normal for her to do it somewhere other than home. To the band directors in Alaska, New Mexico and Kansas, thank you for helping our girl express herself through music, associating emotions and human diversity through notes on a page.

Who will I be thanking this year? Hard to say, considering I feel like I’m in mourning as my daughter and her classmates endure the “TAKS Nazis.”

(Interesting, the images one can find on the web:)

Tags: TAKS

In anticipation of our next move (yes, still nine or ten months away) I’ve been trying to get my thoughts arranged in a neat and orderly fashion. Thoughts of this, our temporary home, our daughter’s temporary school, this temporary time that my husband will actually be “mostly” home with us instead of deployed or going TDY hither and yon…this temporary time I’m away from a classroom. I operate well under stress, as long as it doesn’t overstay its welcome by more than oh, let’s say, a YEAR, but once the crisis is over, I require down-time to sort, examine, re-examine, file, and toss whatever fuzzy stuff remains from the experiences, trials, mistakes, and surprises that have kept me on my toes for so long. Even though our next move is ten months away, I’m trying to get my mind in order, get a clean slate, because of all of the other goodies Life is certain to throw our way in the months before we relocate. Long-term mental and physical exhaustion is never fun, at least not for me.

Moving from Alaska to New Mexico to Kansas to Texas in five years has been exciting yet has contributed to my extended fatigue. If you’re the type of person who hates to move, don’t join the military or marry anyone in it. I’d like to think I’ve gotten good at the routine: yard-saling a month prior to the packers showing up; researching the new post and outlying towns/cities; packing up my classroom and hauling everything home; making sure every member of the family has a traveling tub or suitcase already packed and stashed in the truck for use on the road; making sure the packers are happy (sodas, water, pizza, and cookies help tremendously); going through the house with a fine-tooth comb when the packers THINK they’re done; providing movers with pizza, water and Gatorade and making sure that they put a sticker on every single box and item before packing it all tighter than a Tetris Master could dream of on an eighteen-wheeler truck; cleaning the house for inspection; and finally, trying to keep everyone sane as we drive for hours on end with a toddler, a sleepy teenager, and a screaming cat. Our last move was even more fun as my husband had the Army equivalent of LASIK eye surgery two days after returning from his deployment to Iraq. He drove as if he were still in Iraq (looking for bad guys and things that “go boom” on the side of the road) with fuzzy vision. No folks, we’re not aiming for a repeat of that situation in Summer ‘08!

Once we arrive at our new home, we have to sign for housing, check out our daughter’s school, inventory the house (yes, PRIOR to our household goods arriving) for damage, repairs, etc. so we won’t be charged for them, and get the floorplan set in our minds before the UN-packers arrive with our furniture. We check over every sticker on every item (oh it was fun this year, many items had two, even three stickers so we had to cross-reference the items on three separate lists), sort, unpack the necessary stuff, and thank our lucky stars if we have enough storage closets to keep my classroom stash safe from the elements. Set up the rooms, get the kitchen in working order, have the house decorated so it feels more like home, and then on to the task of finding a job, daycare for the baby, and activities for the family once we know what my husband’s schedule will be. Our lives accomodate upheaval.

All of this moving, evaluation, research, preparation (not-so-successful attempts in some cases) and readjustment generates an excessive amount of information in my mind, and I’m not able to do a brain dump with it as efficiently as I’d like. Yes, I’m one of those perhaps annoying women who cleans her kitchen before starting a baking project. I clean my workspace before scrapbooking, I clear room in the middle of the floor before wrapping a pile of Christmas presents. But I haven’t been able to reach a state of mental tabula rosa lately. Too much information about school/teaching/administrative practices in Alaska, New Mexico, Kansas and Texas is floating around in my head, and I dread knowing that I get to add another state (possibly another country) to that list in a year’s time. I haven’t been in one place long enough to be able to get out of this compare/contrast mode so that I can operate within the new rules and put them on autopilot as I experience other things. Cultural differences, political differences, social differences, religious differences, environmental and climate differences all provide me with much-appreciated lessons on diversity but also overwhelm me. I suppose I’ve just figured out I don’t downshift as quickly as I’d like to be able to, and I question what it is I’m supposed to be doing with all of this information.

Tags: military life

Perhaps it’s a totally new concept: administrators, teachers, parents, and students all working together, as a team, in our educational system. No “them-versus-us” mentality that does nothing but create opposition, miscommunication, hurt feelings, and even underhandedness, but actual teambuilding with truly *shared* goals.

I had an interview yesterday at a local elementary school. It was a school that I had taken my resume to earlier this summer. I didn’t hear back from the principal until a week and a half ago, when a one-line email message popped up in my in-box: “If you’re still wanting a position, call my cell this morning” with the principal’s phone number as the signature. I called the cell phone, reached the principal’s voice mail, and left an affirmative “yes I’m available to interview” message with my phone numbers. I received a response yesterday morning in the wee hours in the form of another one-line email message: “Can you come in for an interview at 3:30 today?” I emailed back that yes, I was looking forward to meeting the principal at three thirty, and I then inquired for which grade or position I was to be interviewing. No response. I downloaded the Texas Education Knowledge and Standards (TEKS) parent handout for grades K-5, thought about how I’d respond to the questions I anticipated being asked, and enjoyed the rest of my morning with my toddler.

I arrived at the school fifteen minutes before my interview, and was pleased to find the neighborhood parents friendly, and the staff helpful. The students were full of energy as they left for the day, and smiles abounded. All GREAT signs! I signed in at the office, and was soon joined in the waiting area by another teacher applicant also there to interview. She had no idea which grade or position was needing to be filled either, but we quickly found some mental direction when the secretary made an announcement over the intercom asking that all third grade teachers report to the principal. I quickly reviewed the TEKS handout for third grade, made sure my information packet and resume were ready to go and crinkle/crease-free, and talked with kindergarten students who were waiting to be picked up at the office. (The students were wearing AWESOME “10th Day of School” crowns, I HAD to admire them!)

The other applicant was taken to be interviewed first by the principal, who had quickly introduced himself to us as the third grade teachers congregated. After twenty minutes, I saw the first applicant quickly leaving the building looking a bit down and unsure of herself. I wondered if she had been overwhelmed by the number of people interviewing her, or was experiencing the “I-should-have-said-this” aftershock that tends to hit people after presenting themselves for consideration to a bunch of strangers. The principal came and escorted me to the interview room, and I was pleased to see four cheerful teachers waiting.

I introduced myself, and the principal asked me to tell the teachers a bit about myself before getting started with the interview questions. No doubt you’ve noticed, dear readers, that I’m a bit of a rambler, so once I realized I’d gotten off on a tangent, I quickly added humor to the mix, and apologized for getting off-subject. The principal expressed that he was in a hurry and that we’d need to get the questions underway, and asked the teachers to begin the interview. I was prepared to answer questions about my teaching experience, my educational background, teaching philosophy, teaching style, views on curriculum and instruction, and demonstrate familiarity with Texas and District specific issues such as the Texas State Standards, the district’s testing policies regarding NCLB, and how I’d work with bi-lingual students and staff. I also figured I’d be asked about my discipline policy and questioned as to how many extra duties I’d be willing to take on.

I was asked to describe my teaching style, to detail how I’d ensure all of my students experienced success, who I thought was responsible for discipline in the school, how I communicate with parents, and how I’d treat my grade-level colleagues. Nothing else, so I worked to infuse my responses with pepperings of the other information I felt was pertinent (that wasn’t being asked for), and was comfortable adding humorous examples and positive messages about working with collegial groups and teambuilding. The response from the teachers was shared laughter, nods of what I hoped was approval, and an overall relaxing of tone as the interview progressed. The response from the principal however, was nothing short of…. bristling, to include the folding of his hands, and the crossing of his arms in front of his chest.

To round out my answer to how I’d treat my colleagues, I responded that I would treat my colleagues the way I treat my students, as “whole people.” I may need the E.L.L. teacher’s help with some of my students, but I’ll remember that when working together in my room, or on committees, or after-school projects, we ALL have families to get home to, so it’s important to work effectively so that we’re not living, eating, breathing and sleeping at school all the time. And hey, even if I don’t get to work with everyone on the staff as much as I’d like to, I’m happy to bring cookies to the staff room once a quarter for staff support!

Lots of additional smiles, laughter, nods and “thank goodness’” from the teachers, immediatly followed by the principal indicating the interview was over saying “Well, I just feel I need to close this interview by mentioning the following. This is a DIFFERENT school. Teachers HERE give 150% and that’s what makes us effective. You might want to consider that if you are hired to teach here.”

Wouldn’t you know it, I had a response.

“Thank you Principal ______________, I see exactly where you’re coming from. Since I’ve taught for twelve years, been hired by three school districts, and have received glowing letters of recommendation from each one, it’s obvious that I take my job very seriously and I’m good at it. But my own childrens’ band concerts, volleyball games, and science fair projects are just as important as my students, so I won’t be staying here until nine p.m. each evening. Teachers who sacrifice their marriages and their families to martyr themselves for their students are, in my opinion, living grossly unbalanced lives.”

He thanked me for my time, stood up, and walked me to the door, at which point I gave him my resume and information packet. I’m sure they were tossed in the trashcan as soon as I walked out the door.

Something tells me I won’t be teaching third grade at that school this year, which is a shame because I rather enjoyed the dynamic I experienced in my short time with the other teachers and I liked the feel of the school environment. But I had done a little homework before the interview, and found out that this was the principal’s first year at this particular school, and that the school’s science scores fell below the state’s average, and that the school, while “academically acceptable” hadn’t received public kudos or accolades for a whopping year. None of these details bothered me until experiencing the principal’s reaction to my responses during the interview.

First-year principals, like first-year ANYTHINGS, are eager to prove themselves. In today’s Blue Ribbon/Gold Star/Sparkley Crown School competition, and with the requirements set by NCLB, I understand that administrators, like teachers and students, are pushed to perform, and pushed to produce the results that have been labeled as “indicators of success.” But meeting administrators that desire the banners, the photo ops and the publicity at the cost of the well-being of their teachers bothers me.

I’m qualified. I do a good job. As a rather simplistic job description, I’m paid to require other people to think. But I’m tired of meeting administrators who don’t like the fact that I myself have opinions and am willing to share them, especially when I’m asked what they are in an interview. I don’t challenge administrator’s authority, nor do I disrespect their role, but I’m very clear on what I think that role is: school administrators are employed to make sure I can do MY job effectively for our students. A principal might hire me, but it’s his or her job to provide safety plans, collegial group time, and various other resources for any student and/or teacher support that is necessary. Principals are guides, to help me and my colleagues achieve not just OTHER peoples’ goals for our school and district, but the goals we set for ourselves and our students. Principals should be advocates not only for students, but for teachers, support staff, and other paraprofessionals whose jobs make student learning possible each day.

This “them versus us” is getting old. Am I really the only person who feels this way?

Tags: Bordertown

My mother used to tell me “you can catch more flies with sugar than with vinegar.” Sometimes she substituted “honey” for “sugar,” but vinegar always stood firm. As a child I never wondered about the meaning, I just wondered what in the world my mother was doing TRYING to attract *flies*! As I grew older and became interested in making more friends in school, I realized that if I smiled, offered a helping hand, or witheld a verbal or physical “zing” in response to to any offense, I (at the very least) earned polite avoidance from would-be bullies or ill-tempered classmates. Thankfully, I managed to go above and beyond the bare minimum response and made some amazing friends who vibrantly color my school memories from Barrow, Delta Junction, Fairbanks, and beyond to this day.

As a teacher I’ve followed the Golden Rule even when it wasn’t the easiest decision to make, nor my first reaction. I’ve remained patient, bitten my tongue, and politely steered when necessary. I’ve taken the time to listen, even if the subject was off-topic, or was a tool of avoidance on the parents’ part. Behaving this way has been my investment in my students, their families, my colleagues, and my job. Extra time and patience in the beginning makes it more efficient later on. Parents don’t jump to conclusions, don’t knee-jerk react, and colleagues don’t feel they are working in a hostile environment. Relationship building doesn’t necessarily mean we like eachother, but it does mean we choose to get along and follow an acceptable set of social rules. Parents might think my teacher dresses are a little hokey at times (hey, five year olds LOVE turkey and Pilgrim dresses in November!), but they know their children are safe and eager to learn with me.

After my job as teacher has ended, I’ve gone on to enjoy friendships outside of school with former parents as well, staying in touch, bending an ear, sending cards, going for coffee… which is when I’ve been able to shift my persona and responsibilities from professional teacher to sincere friend. As a side note, I’m a little quirky in that regard: I don’t believe in “crossing the line” during the school year. I don’t attend Tupperware, Longaberger or even Pampered Chef parties, nor do I go out to dinner or visit my students’ homes until I’m DONE being “the teacher.” Mutual respect of privacy is a good thing, though as a kindergarten teacher, there’s not much about a child’s home life that I don’t know about after the first two weeks of school. (Parents, remember there is a “pretend” or “house” center in my classroom. Just as you see replays of “me” each evening as your child plays in his/her room, I see replays of YOU daily!)

As a mother, I have enjoyed the professional courtesy given to me by my friends and colleagues with whom I’ve worked. I’ve known which teachers have the most complimentary teaching style for my childrens’ personalities and interests, I have had the inside scoop on school activities, programs and policies, and I’ve been privy to the “real” bottom line educational information that falls under Teacher-ese headings such as “curriculum,” “standards/benchmarks,” “assessments,” “percentiles,” “sub-groups,” “schema,” “cognition,” “literacy,” and “advanced placement.” I get *details* and am not merely told if my children are “doing well in school” and thanked for my support.

After defining, setting, and following my own personal and professional standards, I will admit to enjoying coming in under the radar when we move somewhere new and I’m visiting my childrens’ schools for the first time. I watch and listen as teachers and support staff help register students, give tours of the building, and explain the rules and school policies. I’m very pleased when I hear a common-speak that flows between Teacher-ese and the language of parents and families. It shows me that other teachers, school staffs, and administrators (districts?) have made that investment in their students and families (or are building upon it) that I make each year with my own class. It usually doesn’t take too long after talking with a teacher or school administrator before I’m discovered however, and then the sharing of the inside scoop begins. My poor kids roll their eyes, ask if they can look for their lockers and seek out the band room as I talk, teacher to teacher, with my new partners in education. Borrowing from Martha, it’s been “a good thing.”

Our family attended our daughter’s mandatory volleyball meeting earlier this evening. Following the school’s initial punitive and reactionary tone from the first week of school, the coaches and presenters continued by showing all parents in attendance a twenty minute video required by the district. Various school and sports representatives made it very clear via video that they expected us, the parents, to “be better spectators and parents” by not “ridiculing or intimidating another team or its fans,” understanding that “holding a ticket to a school event is not a license to assault others verbally or to be otherwise obnoxious,” and not yelling at our childrens’ coaches. Just more proof of how things have changed since I was in school. My parents would have never embarassed themselves, me, or my teammates by behaving horribly, and none of my coaches yelled at or berated me to try to get some desired response. My friends didn’t boo, but they did cheer louder for my team than the other, and we all shook hands and went out of our way to either be good hosts or good guests when road trips took place. Alaska may be a very large state, but it’s a very small community. You either know someone personally, or you know someone who knows someone from each town, village, city or borough. Being nice… “sugar…” matters.

Yes, I understand that this school’s and district’s tone has been set by whatever happened before our family arrived here, but my “sugar/vinegar” alarm has been going off for almost three weeks now, and I’m becoming depressed by the thought that there is a very good chance it will not cease in the next nine months.

Closing comments from this evening included a promise from the coach that she’d make sure volleyball was fun for the girls this year because NEXT YEAR with “that other coach” was going to be “rough.” WHAT?!?!?! She also asked that we NOT call the principal or athletic director for the school district until we had talked to her first. Fair enough, but her reasoning was this: if we need to know why she “yelled at” our children during practice or during games, it would be more appropriate to ask her directly than to go and complain to others.

I understand the flies and sugar. Now I’m wondering what kind of eighth grade volleyball requires yelling, verbal reprimands, and possibly public humiliation as coaching techniques.

Tags: Bordertown, standards

We’ve moved to Texas thanks to Uncle Sam, and our eighth grade daughter’s first day of school has made quite an impression on her.

She was picked up late by the bus (the driver of which either drove the route incorrectly or followed a pick-up schedule that was changed by the school without notifying parents), which was completely full, three kids per seat. She got to school and dealt with the inevitable “we’re a no-nonsense school” attitude from each of her teachers (this is a middle school that had serious “troubles” three years ago, to include drugs, gang violence, etc)… found out that there are six whopping people in band, and she’s one of only two girls in it. When she told her English teacher that no, there were no “Mead Composition notebooks” in stores anywhere (yes, we looked at Target, K-Mart, Walmart, and Office Max on BOTH sides of town) her teacher’s response was “well, you will get some.” Ah, how pleasant. There were so many ticked off parents at the PX and Target today after school because many of their children brought home additional school supply lists from individual teachers after many of us thought the list we had been given at orientation had been rather…. comprehensive. Our daughter brought home TWO additional supply lists, and then gave me the papers she was dreading, the “these are my rules, don’t break ‘em ’cause these are the heavy duty consequences” notes from teachers who wanted parent signatures on them. I had to correct the note from the English teacher because the grammar she used fell short of “meeting” MY “standards” (remember folks, I’m a kindergarten teacher).

All this after yesterday’s El Paso newspaper crowed on and on about the 35-45% of teacher new hires this year that DO NOT HAVE TEACHING DEGREES. They did the quickie “teacher certification” through an “alternative certification program.” So bankers, engineers, etc. are now teaching fourth graders. First graders. Kindergartners. High school kids. And I, as a teacher with a degree in Elementary Education, with twelve years teaching experience, and four state teaching licenses, have not been hired. Because I cost 7,000-10,000$ MORE to hire than these “new alternate certification” teachers do. And the main reason the alternate program teachers WANTED to take “substantial pay cuts” by quitting their original vocations to become teachers? SO THEY’D HAVE SUMMERS OFF.

What teacher told any of them they’d get their summers “off?” My Lord. And I’m guessing you wouldn’t let a kindergarten teacher who changed her mind and decided she’d “try her hand at being a surgical doctor” into her own practice after obtaining quickie medical licensure in a year-and-a-half’s time!

So our girl questioned us as to why all she and the other students heard today were the lists of punitive actions that would be taken against students for infractions such as: being tardy ONCE, “challenging teachers’ authority,” and not having the exact notebook paper a teacher requested. Apparently many of the teachers at her school have been told that if they yell and appear serious and hard-assed, they have AUTHORITY and will be given RESPECT. Our daughter is *not* a problem child. She aces all of her classes and is a whiz at math. She enjoys humor, kindness, silliness. In short, she’s a young girl. More child than woman. And I guess she’s outnumbered. She has always had favorite teachers. Favorite subjects. Favorite pieces of music to play. Hobbies, giggles, and still likes Disney pre-teen shows. Up until this year, she has always ENJOYED school. ENJOYED learning. ENJOYED building relationships with those who have helped her on this trek so far. Now she is under the impression that teachers here don’t care, don’t want to care, and just expect compliance. I’m hoping this will not be a long year.

All this from the school district that has produced seniors in high school (that I have personally assessed during my brief stint at the learning center) that don’t know how the prefixes “uni, bi, and tri” change words. Seriously.

We don’t want to be stationed here after the SGM Academy is over. And we will certainly not be retiring here.

Tags: Bordertown

I am a fan of efficiency. I appreciate easy systems or routines that can be used regularly with a lot of success. Why? Because I’m a natural clutz. I’m forgetful, I tend to over-schedule myself, and I have a lot of interests. I have friends, I have family, I have colleagues and co-workers. I have students and I have responsibilities as the spouse of a deployed soldier. I have a cat. For these reasons, I like things to not only have a place, but to be IN their place. Keys on the shelf by the door. Space in my closet for a week’s worth of ironed work clothes. A load of laundry put in the washer in the morning and put in the dryer when I get home from work. A chore list for my daughter. A month’s worth of classroom activities marked on a calendar that is sent home in advance so parents can plan their donations of volunteer time and school materials. A binder of all of the materials and information a sub would need if called at the last minute. A “Star Helper of the Day” who can help pass out papers, distribute lunch cards, and cheerfully help with any other tasks that need to take place at school.

At a previous school district, my systems and routines had to be modified in order to accommodate the “systems” already in place at the school where I taught. The best description of the school’s “systems?” There was a form for the form to request the form you needed. No, I’m not kidding. There was the attendance form. The lunch count form. The fire drill form. The nurse form. The materials request form. The Xerox copying form. The laminating form. The consumables form. The furniture form (which was not the same as the inventory list, which was yet another form). The sub request form. The sub evaluation form. The “missing curriculum materials” form. All of the Special Education forms. The report cards, the cum folder forms (in addition to the cum folder itself), the DIBELS forms, the parent volunteer request forms. The teacher evaluation forms, the student assessment forms. Detention forms. Repair forms. Behavior modification forms. The mileage voucher form. The P.T.A. receipt reimbursement form. The permission to breathe form. You get the picture.

Teachers had limits on their Xerox copying. Why? Because all of the forms had depleted the district’s paper budget. No, I’m not kidding.

Here I am again, the outsider looking “in” on another state, on another district. Thankfully, I haven’t seen a fire drill form, and we have a wonderful Print Shop available to copy activities we need that aren’t already provided by consumable materials. I can plan for a month in advance, send in my order, and a week later, voila! Having a calendar’s worth of activities and a month’s worth of lesson plans done ahead of time usually frees me up to do those “other” things, like spend time with my children. Crochet. See a movie. Talk with friends on the phone. Vacuum.

Usually.

With twelve years of experience, I rarely find myself having to recreate the wheel. I can bend, flex, tweak an activity, and get on with enjoying time with my students who are exploring new concepts. Two months into the school year however, and I find myself killing trees left and right. Why? Because three people who never see or work with my students need copies of their DIBELS scores. Because collegial groups need proof that I’m using graphic organizers, math problem solvers, writing models, and walking into my classroom or looking through my lesson plans doesn’t provide the hard evidence they need to show anyone who might look that we are, indeed, doing a good job with our “Quality Performance Accreditation.” So I’m burning copies of plans, burning copies of journal entries, keeping originals of T-charts, Venn diagrams, SQ3R papers (which aren’t even developmentally appropriate for kindergarten), NOT erasing overhead projection sheets of class surveys, saving morning messages on large chart tablet paper, and even taking Polaroid photos of my milk and school lunch/home lunch charts. To prove that I’m doing… what I’m doing. Yes, every other teacher is having to burn these copies, save this “proof” and a ton of other assessments too. Each quarter.

Let’s see… DIBELS (yellow books this year), DIBELS progress monitoring sheets out the wazoo, the “Optional Kindergarten Outcomes Reading Checklist, Forms, A, B, and C” (pink, has a typo, and is NOT “optional”), the Math Outcomes Checklist (white paper, also NOT “optional”), the reading rubric for the report card, the report card (which is for a half day program, not the full day program), all of the Q.P.A. forms listed above, an additional Q.P.A. lesson plan sheet (lilac in color) turned in each week, the S.F.A. reading and writing rubrics (no, they’re not aligned with the report card, and no, they won’t work for the Q.P.A. requirements). My personal teacher evaluation form (there are three or four of them), and a form for my own Professional Development Plan. Forms to fill out each time I attend an inservice for professional development, one for pay and another for credit towards the Professional Development plan. If I attend training or an inservice I might not have listed on the Professional Development Plan, I have to submit an addendum to the plan. Yes, another form. Voucher forms to get paid for teaching the After-School Program. Copies of my mid-quarters and report cards to three different people (in addition to the ones sent home to parents) for Speech and Language, E.L.L. (English Language Learner Program), and any other I.E.P. documentation. Extra copies of documentation for students with I.E.P.’s, and copies of my monthly class summary sheets indicating who needs help with certain skills.

This situation wouldn’t be a problem if I could use some of the same forms for multiple audiences. And no, I can’t. There is no standard bottom line or form that is a general “catch all” that would apply across the board, across the district, or even across the school population. In this age of “standardization,” nothing is standardized. So time is wasted, redundancies abound, and the only personal system I have to fall back on is my “binder system.” I have a binder for my monthly summary sheets. I have a binder for all report cards, DIBELS reports, and mid-quarter assessments. I have a binder for the Q.P.A. documentation. I pull whatever originals need to be copied from each binder, Xerox them, and then put all of the originals back, sorting the copies into their respective piles hoping they all make it to the intended recipients. Will anyone even really read these? Look through them? Or do they judge by the Inch Test: if the stack of papers is close to an inch thick, we “pass?”

I don’t mind assessing. I don’t mind backing up what I say I’m doing in the classroom. But I’m “assessing” for the sake of providing assessment forms to people in offices who will probably never meet my students. I’m burning copies to “prove” I’m doing my job. I’d rather just DO my job than worry about which committee needs what form to prove what is or isn’t going on in my classroom each day. If I’m teaching, I’m too busy for these forms and hoops anyway, right?

To quote a friend and former colleague of mine, “there you go, THINKING again.”

Burn copies for Mrs. X, Mr. Y, and Ms. Z. But don’t use too much paper out of our paper budget. Provide copies to committees A, B, and C, in the building, and to committees Q, R, and S outside of the building, and no, Committee A doesn’t want the same form that Committee Q wants, and don’t even think about using the same info, rubric or assessments for Committees B and R. You have to keep the green forms year-round but please turn them in at the end of each inservice, and remember, if you don’t get the white form to your building representative (who didn’t even attend the inservice), you don’t get paid.

I miss my children. I miss crocheting. I miss sleep.

But most of all, I miss logical efficiency.

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.”