Idioms in the Shadow of the Schoolhouse

[DISCLAIMER:  Any musings expressed in this blog are for the sole purpose of entertaining the author and reader. Any similarities to any person, place, or event, however timely, should be considered completely coincidental and should in no way be interpreted as intending to describe or relate any real person, place, or event.]  

I love what I do for a living.  I think I am very lucky to be able to say that and mean it most of the time.  The people I work with are committed, amazing, and interesting.  What frustrates me is all of the stuff I have to listen to, put up with, and wade through before I can actually get around to doing my work - building a learning community in my classroom that facilitates accelerated growth for students.  Blogging is a great way to vent, to remind myself about who I am and what I hope to accomplish, and frequently to embarrass myself when I reread the posts later.  This post has nothing to do with any of that, except maybe the embarrassment part.  It's only abstractly work- or education-related.  It's just some of the thoughts that pass through while I'm driving or laying awake on sleepless nights, and expressing them helps chronicle a bit of the journey.

One thread that I've noticed woven through my "idle" thoughts lately is how my experiences and observations since returning to the classroom have caused me to rethink some common expressions.   In the past, I would hear the saying "When the cat's away, the mice will play," and take it to mean that people generally tend to goof off a bit when the boss is not around.  While this is certainly true in many instances, I think further examination might reveal another implication.  After all, what is play to a mouse but a natural activity? And what is a cat, but a much larger creature who wants to torture the mouse for his own amusement and maybe eat it for dinner?  So, of course, the mice are not able to engage in play, or any other mouse-natured activity, when the cat is nearby, on pain of death or dismemberment.  It stands to reason that it is only when the cat goes away that the mice can come out of hiding and really get to work, doing what mice are actually supposed to do.

Another expression that has been on my mind lately is "the straw that broke the camel's back."  Because I often have way too much to do, more than can ever be done, brokenness is a recurring theme in my life.  I am constantly making decisions about priorities, trying to keep everyone happy, or at least complacent.  I find myself having to give up on that goal time and again as I realize that I can only do so much.  It doesn't matter how badly I want to do or someone else wants me to do, or what great ideas I have or others have for me, there is just so much time and energy apportioned to me by my Creator, and I've yet to figure out how to be the perfect steward of these resources.  It's not always a matter of support, either.  Even with great friends, family, and co-workers who can be wonderful sources of support, there is still only a limited amount of time and energy.  After all, if you prop up the camel so that it remains upright while you load it down, there will still come a point when the burden is unbearable.  The camel might not collapse so long as it is propped up, but it would be in a great deal of pain and unable to carry out its camelish purpose.  Calling the camel names, giving him poor performance reviews, or throwing programs at him about research-based, data driven, best practices in load-bearing and effective camel behaviors will neither address nor resolve the real issue.  So, I'm considering a rewrite, or maybe it's a sequel - something like "It doesn't matter how much support you give the camel if you don't lighten the backbreaking burden."

Holding Back the Tide

This is what teaching often feels like.  The tide can represent anything that wears away at effective teaching and learning - the days before a holiday, the days following a holiday, weather changes, full moons, family violence, drug or alcohol abuse, exposure to inappropriate media, malnutrition and hunger, sleep deprivation, death, abusive language, emotional abuse, neglect, illness, even the seeming innocuous time-wasters such as announcements over the p.a. system, visitors, assemblies, schedule changes, fire drills, and technical difficulties.  Then there are also student behaviors and attitudes, teacher behaviors and attitudes, teacher and student burnout, too much or too little sugar or caffeine, hormones, mean people (sometimes including myself), talkative people (often including myself), agendas, stress, lack of supplies, lack of storage, lack of heat or air conditioning,  or too much heat or air conditioning.  But there are moments, sometimes hours, each day, each week,  when distractions are held at bay, and learning forms in tidal pools, full of interesting tidbits of knowledge and activity, with students delightfully peering in and being changed by what they find there.  In these moments, teaching feels like toes in warm sand, sun on your face, a warm sea breeze, and life all around.

Why did the boy throw the alarm clock out the window?

So he could see time fly.  I haven't thrown any alarm clocks lately, but time is certainly flying!  I can't believe it is already November, and one week in, no less.  This is the candy-contaminated section of the year, when familiarity begins to breed, well, not necessarily contempt, but boredom and audacity.  Our true colors are showing themselves, or so it seems.  Somehow, as an educator, I can't really believe that the stubborn, mean-mouthed child that is causing all the trouble of the moment is really showing his or her true colors, but is, in reality, puffing up the few feathers he or she has in an attempt to look larger and thereby scare away any potential threat.  My students feel safe, but not safe enough.  There is still so much to learn - for me, about reaching and supporting them, and for them, about how to succeed in school, relationships, and life.  Those moments in the crucible, the administrative oppression, the emotional collisions that seem so irrational, the judgment of others, the desperation of trying to conquer the chaos, the distraction of too many chiefs, and the attempt to maintain some semblance of home and family life, these things do seem to be making me stronger, more focused, more in tune with my students and what they need, less swayed by moods and opinions, more able to maintain a steady course.  Oh, be careful what you ask for, because God is faithful even when it's painful (Psalm 111 & Hebrews 12:11).

Vanna & Forrest

In typical first grade style, we start our morning with some calendar work including counting the number of days that we have been in school.  I am constantly seeking to engage students who don't quite understand how to engage themselves.  So, one particular morning a week or so ago,  my idea was to have a student help me with the Days in School count by holding the small place value pocket chart we use for this activity.  I called for someone to be Vanna.  This is a pop cultural reference that my students clearly did not understand, so I taught them about game shows from their perspective - How to Be a Millionaire, and they liked it.  This week, in our 6-week review of Kindergarten, we discussed the letter V and its sound, then proceeded to list words beginning with V.  One student said, "Vanna."  Mission accomplished on that one!

Today we had what our district calls a "scholastic analysis."  This means that a team of administrators from downtown comb through our building with checklists and questions.  I had two different teams come through my room and was one of the chosen few to be interviewed.  It was pretty nerve-wracking, but at least I can cross that thing off of my list.  One less thing!

I am a robot...

So that is what I feel like, a curriculum-delivering robot.  At least that's what I feel is expected of me.  People with checklists in hand, clipboards, iPads and click-clacking typing fingers, noting what is posted, or what is not, watching my schedule against the clock, and talking to students.  I love my class, and the parents are supportive.  My teaching assistant is wonderful.  My students are learning, but I am flustered, frustrated, and discouraged.  Working under TEA campus improvement because of an Academically Unacceptable rating, under the PEAK value-added program designed to re-invigorate the campus, the UVA school improvement program, and a district initiative to implement a standardized curriculum is overwhelming to say the least.  No matter how late I stay or how much of my weekend I devote to planning, preparing, reading, reflecting, evaluating, analyzing, organizing, and aligning, the to do list just keeps growing.  Ever adapting to the latest directive, always learning the most recently-adopted procedure, making preparations to do things one way, then a "quick reset" that changes everything - it takes it toll in time, energy, motivation, and momentum.  I wanted this job and I know I can do it, but it is very difficult.  I think it is more difficult than it should be. 

10 Days In! and Sight Words

I have just completed week 2. I spent this summer remembering why I became a teacher and refreshing my toolkit with strategies that are in line with my beliefs and teaching philosophy. I found out, or relearned, that the most important thing about the beginning of school is not only the teaching of procedures, but the teaching to each and every student that school is a place where they can be safe, accepted, understood, and valued. Tone is very important, even more than words. If your tone shows that you respect your students, the words, although carefully chosen, become secondary. This is what I have learned this week. Don't hang your students out to dry or throw them under the bus, even when they seem to deserve it. Instead, help them fit in, help them save face, teach them the correct way to respond to the trials and social confusion caused by so many immature bodies in a small space and so many grownup demands on their time, motion, and ideas. This isn't new to me. In fact, it is a bit like coming home after the past two crazy, grueling years of this redesigned school trying to find itself amidst the unbearable pressure of school turn around and all of the other small and large tragedies of life.

The first six weeks of first grade is a review of Kindergarten, so we have been reviewing Kindergarten sight words, one of which is the word "my."
Me: Okay, this word is my. Can you think of a way we use the word my? (I was ready to fill in, if no one had any ideas, with "My name is _______.")
La'Brian: Pimp my ride!
Now, how are you going to argue with that?!

...Through the Rain

I just looked back over my posts from the beginning of this school year. I am amazed that it began on such a hopeful note when I think about how it unfolded. From this end, it seems like it started wrong and ended lost in the forest from Snow White's Scary Adventures. It was a difficult year, so much so that I couldn't even stand to write about it. I can see that many good things did happen. The children grew - physically, emotionally, academically - and they learned a lot about how school works. I can proudly report that they can now sit in their place, walk in a line, perform all necessary lunchroom procedures. They still smile, laugh, and sing. They still hug and say "I love you, Teacher!" They know a lot of letters, letter sounds, numbers, can write their name and many other words, and can count as high as 149. We came a long way together, and I will miss them.