Teacher Tales

When we got home from Wichita the other day we found a package of baby bottles in one of our Walmart bags. None of us picked them up and we had no idea where they came from. Maybe it's a sign from above. I certainly hope not. If God thinks I am going to have another baby He is barking up the wrong uterus. We are done. D. O. N. E.

I might have to delete that last statement. I don't want to be struck down by lightening for being flippant with God...or worse, struck down with triplets.


I was kidding anyway, more children would not upset me. It's Dave that would freak (hear that God? Strike HIM down with triplets, not me. Spread the saggage around. He'd look great with saggy man-boobs).

As for me, I adore children. They make me laugh. Just this week there was a picture of a hamster in a book at school and this little girl said, "That's where my uncle lives, New Hamster."

Get it? New HAMSTER. Only she wasn't kidding and how can you not love that? I still smile every time I think about it.

And then there was this sweet little fourth grader that I tutored in math over the summer. I worked with her quite a bit this school year as well. She is such a doll and she was worrying herself sick over the Math TAKS test. So yesterday I took a necklace that a good friend gave me for my birthday to school with me.

Here is a picture of it:

That little dot in the middle is a mustard seed. Well, I pulled her from class before the test and told her the Bible said that faith the size of a mustard seed can move mountains. I told her I wanted her to wear the necklace during the test and that when she started doubting herself she was to rub it to remind herself to have faith!

Her mom told me that later that day she said that the test was really hard and that she kept rubbing and rubbing my necklace, but that God never did tell her a single answer! I guess I failed at explaining the purpose of the necklace!

I could tell stories like this all day long. I am so blessed to have a job that lets me work with such amazing children all day long. Then I get to come home to two amazing girls of my own!

Just think of the fun I'll have after Dave has the triplets!

Giving to the Max

She was a tall, big boned girl with masses of pitch black frizzy curls that framed her dirty face in an unkempt fashion. The combination of her pale skin and the trail of freckles across her nose hinted that her hair's midnight hue was by choice rather than by birth. Her clothes were usually ill-fitting and her scent brought to mind dusty attics filled with mice and mothballs. She was always alone and made sure she stayed that way with excentracies like picking lice from her hair in class and talking to herself as she walked through the high school corridors.

Her name was Mary, but everyone called her Scary Mary. She endured four years of teasing, taunting and pranks in my high school and never once acted like she cared or even noticed. I noticed though and it really bothered me. I tried to be nice to her, but she was like an island unto herself and I was an unwanted bridge to the world of adolescent chaos around her. She basically ignored my attempts at friendship the same way she ignored the cruelty of the other students. I never really stopped trying though. I would sit behind her in homemaking class (praying that I didn't get lice) while everyone else sat on the other side of the room. I would speak to her in the hall and occasionally asked her to join me at lunch. She never really responded to me, but I felt better for at least trying.

At some point in the midst of our journey through the world of high school dramatics a boy by the name of Matt broke my heart (or so I thought at the time). Shortly after I was seen crying over a hateful note he wrote me in Biology class, a sign showed up on Matt's locker. I won't repeat what it said here, because it wasn't nice, but Matt was furious with me and accused me of leaving the sign. I assured him I didn't do it, but he did not believe me. That sign was just the first of many and I was as baffled as he was as to who the culprit could be.

It wasn't until my Senior year when I asked Mary to sign my yearbook that I found out what really happened. I remember being shocked that she actually agreed to sign my yearbook and even more shocked at what she wrote inside. She said that I was the only friend she'd ever had and that if it had not been for me being nice to her she wouldn't have been able to make it through school. She then went on to tell me she was the one who had left all those signs on Matt's locker and that she did it to make him pay for making me cry.

I learned a big lesson from Mary that day. Actually the lesson came from my parents who always taught us to treat others the way we would want to be treated, but Mary really reinforced that lesson when she left me that note in my yearbook. I had no idea that my small acts of kindness (I really should have done more) had made such an impact on her life. It really helped me to see that even something as simple as a smile or a hello could help brighten someone's day or maybe even do more than that...maybe even give them a reason to keep trudging through the difficulties they faced in life.

That was fifteen years ago and this week at school I was reminded of Mary and the lesson she helped me learn all those years ago. Any teacher will tell you that there are children that get on our nerves. I wish I could say that we adore every minute that we spend with each and every one of them, but that would be a lie. I am not saying that we don't love them all. I know I do, but there are a few of them that really try my patience.

One such child is a first grader that we'll call Max. Max flat out wears me out. I have him only thirty minutes a day for a reading group and they are thirty of the longest minutes in my day. I find myself saying things like...

Max sit down.

Max stop touching her.

Max sit down.

Max put that up.

Max please follow along.

Max sit down.

Max do not put your boogers on my table.

Max do not put that booger back in your nose!

Max sit down.

Max.

Max.

Max.

I work with over fifty children so there is more than one Max in my life. I can honestly say that I always try to remain patient and loving with all the Maxes in my classes (try being the magic word). I may be dying to pull my hair out on the inside and longing for the wooden spoon that has warmed my own girl's backsides, but I do not let it show (too much). I have had to be very firm with Max (and those like him) on more than one occasion, but I do try to make sure they understand that I am doing it because I love them and I want what is best for them.

This past Friday I was walking down the hall when Max ran up and threw his arms around my legs. Then he looked up at me and said, "I am going to miss you sooooo much!" My first thought was that he was moving so I said, "Oh no, where are you going Max?" He just looked at me with a puzzled expression and said, "I'm not going anywhere. It's the weekend. I hate the weekends because I don't get to see you and I miss you." My heart melted. I hugged him back and told him I would miss him too.

As I watched him walk away I was reminded of Mary. There are so many kids like Mary and Max in the world. They don't quite fit into the mold of 'normalcy' that we have been conditioned to expect, but that doesn't mean that don't need love and acceptance just as much as the rest of us. In fact, I am quite certain that many times they need it even more.

I am grateful to Max for reminding me that my actions can make a difference. On any given day my smile may be the only smile directed a child's way...my arms may be the only arms to hug them...my ears may be the only ears to really stop and listen to what they have to say...my heart may be the only heart to love them.

There are more important things than teaching someone to read.

I thank God for allowing me to help teach (and learn) those lessons.

Moo-tivational Teaching

"Hey mom, I found a gold penny under my bed! Isn't this Sacagewea on the front?"

I turned away from the hated dishwater whose goal in life is to wreak havoc on my hands and looked at my seven year old, the youngest contributor to the never ending pile of dishes that find their way to my sink on a daily basis. She was holding a gold dollar.

"Sachaja-who-ha?" I asked, earning an immediate frown of disgust.

"Sacagewea...you know...Luis and Clark..." The 'duh' was unspoken, but so very evident in her tone.

"Oh yeah. Right. Sacagewea," I said, vaguely remembering something about her hooking up with Robin Williams in 'Night at the Museum'. I looked at the coin and pretended to study it carefully. It was an Indian alright and that was about all I knew.

"I think it might be sugar, but I'm not 100% positive," I said trying to sound confident ( I was more like .000003% sure).

"Then let's look it up," she said. So we did.

I am madly in love with google. If Dave ever tires of my redneck ways and leaves me for some sophisticated woman with a matching set of dishes I am running away with google and we are going to make our own gaggle of googlets.


I am so weird (like you needed that spelled out for you).

Anyway, she was right. See?


She is officially smarter than me. She has a second grade education and she is smarter than I am. It was bound to happen sooner or later.

While we googled facts and learned a few new things together I enjoyed observing her thirst for knowledge. I am so happy that she has an internal motivation to learn. That is becoming increasingly rare. It seems the days when knowledge in and of itself was all the reward a child needed for motivation to learn are slipping away without anyone noticing that they are making an exit. That seriously worries me.

I have often thought to myself that motivating children to learn is the biggest part of my job. I have done so many things to motivate them. I have had parties and dances and given fun rewards. I have dressed up...oh my have I dressed up...for one reason or another through my eleven years as a teacher. I've been Sandy (from Grease) and sang and preformed on stage. I've been a nun (like in Sister Act), again preforming for the children at our school. I've been Baby Spice (don't ask). I've been a monster from under the bed....a mouse...a lion and a clown (the non scary version.).

I've even been a cow...a pregnant cow at that. And not just any cow. I was a cool cow from Kalamazoo. No really I was. Look...

Clearly I have no shame.

The point is that I've done all that and more to motivate students, but really there was something behind all the crazy things I did that motivated them more than anything else.

Love.

I've loved every single one of my students and made sure they knew that I loved them. It is a great motivator and is the best secret I know to being a successful teacher. So while I worry about their lack of internal motivation all I know to do is to keep on loving them, keep on teaching them and keep on praying for them.


God will take care of the rest.


(He really rocks at this love thing too.)

Being Tested

Yesterday was one of the toughest teaching days I've had in a long time. All week long we've been benchmarking, meaning we've been giving last years TAKS test to our students to get an idea of where we stand. That gives us a better idea about who needs to have extra help and tells us specifically what areas they are struggling in. I administer the test to the dyslexic students because they receive a few special accommodations on the test (like me being able to read the questions to them).

My group yesterday only had three boys in it. The day started off great. They did everything I asked them to do without a problem. Then about halfway through the test something changed. I'm not sure what happened to cause it, probably just the fact that the test is really long and all that reading is tough on a dyslexic child. The change occurred in the attitude of one the boys taking the test, and boy oh boy did his attitude change.

This little boy is new to our district. In his previous school he had failed every single subject last year, but they'd moved him on anyway. When we called to see what was up with that we were told that he had failed because he spent almost the entire year expelled or in I.S.S. (in school suspension). So basically he had never been in class. I'm not blaming that school. I know exactly why he was kicked out of class. It was because that is what he wanted. The reason I know that is because that's what he wanted me to do with him yesterday. He wanted me to send him to the office or kick him out of my class.

He started off by saying stuff like, 'I don't care about this test. I'm not taking it anymore.' When I kept insisting that he was going to take it and he was going to do well he started making really loud noises while the other students were testing. When this didn't get him kicked out of my room he started throwing things (his test, his pencil, his sharpener....anything in reach really). He threatened, he flipped me off, he was determined to get sent out of the room and get out of doing his work. He finally came right out and said, 'why don't you just kick me out of here? That's what everyone else does.'

And there it was. I had known the reason he was acting so mean (he said some way mean things) and violent, but I had not expected him to just come right out and say it. My answer to him was that I wasn't everyone else and I knew he was smart and that he could slam dunk this test.

And it was true. I knew he could do well. It is obvious this child is very bright. There is no reason for him to be failing all his classes and throwing his life away. So what the rest of the day (several hours of it) came down to was a battle of wills...him against me. I sat across from him and pointed to each and every word saying 'read it' and then on the next word 'read it' and on the next and the next and the next. I never raised my voice. I acted like I had all the time in the world and that I was never, ever going to stop pushing him to do his best. Eventually he got sick of me pointing to each word and saying read it over and over until he read it and he started reading on his own.

Of course when he'd get to the questions he'd try to just randomly circle answers. My response to that was that apparently we needed to read the entire story again (there are six fairly long stories and about fifty questions). When I flipped back to the beginning of the story and pointed to the first word and started saying 'read it' to him, he backed down and said, 'okay, okay. I'll answer them right.'

There was so much more that happened, but you get the idea of how the day went. It wasn't fun and it was very stressful. When he finally walked out of my room with the other students it was all I could do to not cry....from stress...from relief that we'd managed to finish...from sadness that he was so hardened at such a young age...just from a lot of things.

I sucked it up and took the tests down to the boy's regular classroom teacher. She graded the tests and they all passed. Not only did they all pass, but the little boy who was so angry and mean made a perfect score. I knew he could. He was the only person in the entire grade to do that. I saw him last night walking down the street with a group of kids with hats on crooked and pants down hanging low on their hips. I pulled up and rolled down my window and said, 'Hey J, guess who made a 100 on that test.' He responded with a tough and attitude filled, 'who?' I didn't say a word. I just pointed at him. He tried to hide the smile that burst through, but I saw a quick glimpse of it before he tried to act like he didn't care. Then I said, 'guess who was the only person in the entire grade to make a 100.' He again says, 'who?' and I just slowly point at him. This time he doesn't try to hide his delight. 'No way!' he yelled and I smiled, pointed at him again and gave him a thumbs up. Then I drove away.

I love my job.

Resolution

It's a brand new year and this will be my first post in 2008. For some reason I've had trouble trying to pull all my thoughts together for a post. Material to write about shouldn't be a problem. 2007 was a rough year on our family, but in the end we came out of it wonderfully blessed.

For more than half of last year my baby sister was in the hospital fighting a mysterious illness. As if her bone disease and connective tissue disease were not enough she up and got tetanus, or what the doctors thought was tetanus for six months. It turned out to be a tumor on her thymus causing her to have horrible spasms that kept her hospitalized and even caused her to be put into a coma. When they finally figured out what the problem really was they didn't give us a lot of hope that she would survive the illness, the surgery and the treatment after surgery. But God is GOOD and she came through the surgery with flying colors and ended up avoiding chemo totally. This was all God and His answer to hundreds and hundreds of prayers.

Still, even with such a wonderful story to share I couldn't decide what to write about in my first post of the year. I was torn between Shanna's story, or sharing how wonderful Christmas was, or about our lovely trip to visit good friends for New Year's Eve, or maybe even sharing my New Year's Resolutions.

Finally, after starting and stopping numerous posts, I decided to take the easy way out and simply post a few pictures that Lauren took throughout the year and by doing so, avoid writing anything at all. That's when I came across this picture:

I took this picture a few weeks back when stopping by to check on some of my students and their family. Six people lived in this house...four children and two adults. It's hard to see in this picture how very tiny this house is or that several of the windows are broken out and covered only in cardboard and tape. We (some teachers at my school) made sure the children had a good Christmas with bikes and toys and clothes. The family ended up moving out of our district over the holiday and I know I will worry about the children for a long, long time.

Even though the boys are gone, I am thankful that I still have this picture. It serves as a reminder of what many of my students face each morning when they wake up. Some don't have electricity. Others do not have water. Many of them worry about food for their next meal and having warm clothes to wear.

I am thankful, so very, very thankful that God allows me to be a part of these precious lives day after day. I pray that I am a blessing to them and that I touch their lives in a positive way. God loves each of the children I teach even more than I do (and that is saying a lot) and seeing this picture somehow rekindled my desire to be the very best teacher I can be.

So there you have it. That is my resolution and my prayer for 2008...to be the best teacher I can possibly be and to let God's love overflow onto the children I am so very blessed to teach.

Edit: Please ignore the bird poodunkle/tinkle (not sure which it is) in the picture. Apparently it fell just as I snapped the picture. The bird obviously wanted it's 'stuff' to be famous. Well, now you've done it bird, a whole six and a half people will forever remember seeing your poodunkle/tinkle. Congratulations.

Making A Joyful Noise

I love music. I just la-la-love it (I totally sang that part). I am one of those annoying people that sings all the time. I sing in the shower. I sing while I clean. I sing when I shop. I sing as I cook. I sing in the car (or I did before that doodiehead misguided soul broke out my window and stole my satellite radio system, may he get chiggers down his pants God bless his soul). I even catch myself singing in the halls at school. I just can't stop myself. I love to sing. If you don't believe me ask Drama Dad, as soon as he takes the cotton out of his ears he will definitely tell you that I do indeed sing ALL the time.

That wasn't always the case. For years and years I would not sing out loud at all. I mean none. Zero. Zippo (stop longing for those days Drama Dad cause they aren't coming back). There is one big, fat, mean and ugly reason that I wouldn't sing and that reason is called my elementary school principal. (I tell this story a lot so if you've heard it just skip to the next paragraph, I don't mind). You see once I was in the choir on angels at school. Oh I was sooo excited. I was going to be the bestest angel that ever had lived. I was going to have my curled (my mom was queen of the little pink sponge rollers back then). I was going to wear a beautiful white costume with sparkling silver wings. And I was going to sing (this is where my plan went awry). One day at rehearsal we were singing along and I guess I was stinking up the place with my bad self because the big, fat, mean and ugly principal suddenly stopped us mid song to say something like WHO IN THE WORLD IS SINGING LIKE THAT???? Well I just stood there and blinked at her because I had no idea what she was talking about, but apparently every other kid knew exactly what she was talking about because they all turned at pointed at me simultaneously.

Oh.

Big oh.

Big, BIG oh. That was the moment that I found out that I couldn't sing. I was stripped of my wings and banned from the choir of heavenly hosts. They made up another part for me, but that didn't matter to me because from that moment on I refused to sing. I wouldn't sing anywhere for any reason. I wouldn't sing when I was alone. I wouldn't sing at school when I was supposed to. I wouldn't sing in church. I just wouldn't sing period. Years went by and mom decided to make me join the choir at church in a brilliant scheme to try and trick me into singing again (I was totally on to you and your little plan mom). I proved to be the best lip syncing teen that choir has ever known. I never sang a note...not one single note.

Once again it was children that impacted my life and helped me to change for the better. I started out my teaching career in early childhood (kindergarten and then pre-k and then back to kindergarten). When you teach kindergarten you just have to sing. You have to. There is no way around it. But I soon found singing for children is nothing like singing for adults. Children are so amazing ya'll. I mean that. They are amazing. They give their love unconditionally and unashamedly. They don't judge. They don't condemn. They just love and it is a beautiful and healing kind of love. It wasn't long before I was singing without hesitation in front of my class and loving every minute of it.

Finally one day something profound occurred to me. God loves me with a child like love. By that I mean His love is unconditional and unending. He doesn't care what my voice sounds like either. In fact He thinks it's a beautiful sound when I sing praises to His name. So get used to it people. I'm gonna keep on singing and no amount of pointing, laughing or throwing of rotten tomatoes can stop me.

(and in case you didn't know...God loves YOU with that same kind of love. Exciting isn't it???)