"Decowations" #sol15 Day 21

     On the first night of spring, as the snowflakes persistently fell, I pulled out our Easter decorations.  From October to April, there is always something to decorate for and anticipate: Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas, Valentine's Day, St. Patrick's Day, Easter.  From April to September, there is nothing to hang in the window, no turkeys or leprechauns, hearts or bunnies to remind you a holiday is coming. This is it for decorating for a while, but I happen to love my Easter decorations and it is always like visiting a favorite friend I haven't seen in ages when I open up the box where the bunnies and baskets live the rest of the year.  There's the Lenox Easter basket that, in pale shades of pink,blue and green that I registered for as one of my wedding gifts.  There's the Winnie the Pooh I bought when I was pregnant with Alex, months before he would even appear.  There's the Easter egg electric candlesticks my Grandmother gave me one year, one of her QVC purchases, that makes me smile and appreciate how she is always so thoughtful.  And there are the multi-colored pictures of bunnies and eggs to tape up in the window. 

     This year, I asked my 4 year old son  Alex to help me. I asked him because he always gets very excited about "decowations" and at this point in his life, he loves to help me put them up.  He'd been lounging on the couch on the iPad, because it was Friday  night and we were too exhausted to remind him to do something more active. It was easily going on an hour of staring at it, so I asked him to take a break and come stand on our window sill and tape up the Easter pictures.  He loves tape, although it is kind of a struggle for him to effectively rip off a piece.  As we worked to hang the decorations, his a little lopsided and crooked, we talked.  He was confused and thought that the Easter bunny was coming tonight since we were decorating.  He wanted to know who was coming to his house for the party.  I had to explain that it wasn't Easter yet and we might go to other people's houses for Easter celebrations this year.  Alex told me he likes it better when people come to his house because his house " is the coziest" and "I like the snacks at my house."

     As we finished up, I asked him to put Minnie and Mickey in the window.  He said, "They should kiss!" and posed them so they were smooching.  Then he ran off to go back to the iPad.  

As I type this, I realize a reader might think, "So what?" I try to remind my students they need to have a "so what" in their writing- what is the meaning and message behind the story you told? What is it that the reader might relate to, what is the heart of the story? In this story, it's that Alex is 4 now which is a very precious age.  He has some baby features about him, but there is a maturity now too and a level of sophistication to his thought process that wasn't present before.  I know, in a few years, he is not going to hang Easter eggs up in the window with me or be excited about "decowations."  He'll say the word correctly and probably won't care if they are hung or not.  He'll be rushing off to a friend's house or to watch a game.  All the time for myself I am constantly missing at this stage of my life will come rushing back, but I will feel the sting and absence of spending less time with him.  We are always wishing for something else and end up missing the gifts before us. 

Last night, I could have done the piles of laundry, worked on updating my resume, started the new books I've bought, begun the report cards.  I could have done all of this as Alex quietly played on the iPad.  I'm glad I didn't.  I'm glad I chose to put up the decorations that add cheer to my days, remind me of happy times and people I love, and I'm glad I enlisted Alex to help.  In my memory now and forever, I see snowflakes falling on the first night of spring and my four year old son telling me his house is the "coziest" and innocently giving Mickie and Minnie a loving moment.  The "to-do" list is endless, but as another slicer, Clare from Teachers for Teachers  wrote in her slice on Monday "It is the small moments that matter."

The Power of a Teacher's Pen #sol15 Day 20

Today has been a reminder about the power of words and the necessity to choose them carefully. On a student's paper, a word from me was written that hurt more than it helped, that caused upset, frustration, and sadness for a parent.  I didn't mean that at all. I've worked to build confidence and show encouragement all year, but one quick move of my pen changed the positive feelings and caused hurt.  

As teachers, we make so many decisions each day, each moment.  We try to honor students, challenge them, comfort them, and also push them to do what we know they could do.  Always their best interest is at heart.  Still, to know that I caused pain by a word on the page is so regrettable to me, so opposite from my intentions.  

Amends will be made.  I will speak to the parent and explain and apologize.  I will never, ever write anything on a student's paper anymore that could be interpreted as deflating or mean.  It was a humbling day, a reminder of the heaviness that every word I say and write holds when it comes to children and their efforts to learn.  

I feel embarrassed and sad about the incident.  Informed about it at lunch, the rest of my day was difficult as it weighed on my mind.  I was close to tears until the end of the day when I related the story to caring colleagues and I cried.  My colleagues reminded me what we would say to a child who made a mistake: We would forgive easily, we would say you will do better next time and it's okay because we all do make mistakes.  I hate to make mistakes and most especially hate to make ones that cause others to feel hurt. 

So, all in all, not my best day in the classroom. A lesson learned.  A reminder that my words and actions have immediate consequences and I need to always be thoughtful.  I spent the rest of the day trying to put more positive words into the world to make up for the one that hurt.  I emailed my colleague to thank her for listening to me and making me feel better that afternoon.  I publicly thanked my son's preschool teacher for being so kind and wonderful. I want my words to encourage and spread joy. I want to take back the one that caused pain but words don't work that way. I've always believed, "When you know better, you do better." I know better now.  I'll do better. 

What You Measure, You Treasure #sol15 Day 19

"What you measure, you treasure."

"525,600 minutes.  525,000 moments so dear.  525, 600 minutes.  How do you measure, measure a year?"  -"Seasons of  Love"

183 busy school days.  183 days to teach.  183 precious school days. 183 days- who will you  reach?

With benchmarks, with test scores 
with plots, graphs and data points?
With pretests and post-tests?
With modules in Common Core?

183 busy school days.  183 days to teach.  183 precious school days. 183 days- who will you  reach?

With laughter, with smiles,
With high-fives and apples given?
With passion & effort?
With phone calls and letters written?

183 busy school days.  183 days to teach.  183 precious school days. 183 days- who will you reach?

When APPR first came into existence a few years ago, I kept thinking about "Seasons of Love" from the play Rent.  How DO you measure a year? The song states, "In daylights, in sunsets, in midnights, in cups of coffee. In inches, in miles, in laughter and strife.  525,600 minutes.  How do you measure a year in the life?"  What is measurable and quantifiable when you talk about a year in your life? What is measurable and quantifiable when you think of a teacher in the classroom?

They say, "What you measure, you treasure."  It seems our treasures have become test scores and on demand writing pieces, progress monitoring data points and reading benchmark levels. We enter our data. We make predictions on how much our students will grow and we know that our evaluations ride on our predictions. It is all worked out to some mathematical formula, where all of these pieces of data will come together and spit out a rating about you and your ability to do the job you hold so dear. 

But what if we measured how many times a student who never raised her hand started to raise it because she began to believe in herself? What if we measured the amount of books a reluctant reader checked out of the library because he started to like reading a little bit more? What if there was a way to measure that "Aha! moment" a student has when learning a new math concept which was fuzzy but now is crystal clear? What if we evaluated the positive phone calls a teacher made to tell parents about the good things their child is doing? 

How do you measure how much kinder a heart has become from being part of a classroom community?  Can you plot enthusiasm and joy on a graph? Can you weigh the effort a teacher puts in, add up the hours spent grading and planning and redoing and worrying? Would you count the pieces of tape that go on the backs of the student work that gets hung in the hallway? Could you measure the tears dried, the money lent, the school supplies bought, the words of encouragement spoken? 

It's harder to measure the things that really count about teachers and students and learning.  It's so much easier and neater to have test scores that fit nicely into boxes and lead to clear-cut labels: Highly Effective (the elusive Holy Grail). Effective. Developing. Ineffective. Rank them, sort them, fire them.  

Those of us in the trenches, those of us wiping the tears, teaching our hearts out, putting on the best show we can to keep our students engaged, those of us who work with children who are not products to be sorted and labeled...we know better. We are gardeners, planting seeds.  We are teachers, touching lives.  Our influence, our impact, our worth cannot be measured.  Or if it can, as the song goes, "Measure in love." 

Let the River Run! #sol15 Day 18

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Fj5TXxmNDaU

"Let the river run. Let all the dreamers wake the nation."

-Carly Simon

     One of my all-time favorite movies is from the late 1980's- "Working Girl".  There are just so many things I love about this movie and looking back at it now, with the views of the Twin Towers and the huge computers and of course, the hair, it really does bring to mind a different time.  Yet many of the "truths" spoken in the movie are timeless. 
      I can relate to Tess, who reads everything (including "W" to the chagrin of the snobby executives) because "you never know where the big ideas will come from."  As a teacher (and dare I call myself a "writer"?), I do read many things each day that contribute to my overall knowledge, beliefs, and ideas.  I read professional books, children's books, blogs, articles, poems.  I love when something I read reminds me of something else I read (we used to call those "text to text connections") and sometimes it reminds me of things I see in the world (those were "text to world connections").  My class just finished The One and Only Ivan right around the time that Ringling Bros decided to stop using elephants in their circus shows. I love when we can show students that the books we are reading really can relate to the "real world" and also might change your perspective on a topic. 
       Confidence.  Katherine, the movie's villain, has tons of it which has really gotten her to her position since she seems to lack ability and creativity.  At one  point in the movie, she says, "Tess, you never get anywhere in this world waiting for things to happen to you.  You make it happen."  She was right. Dreams are important but they come to be when they put on their work boots.  (I know someone said that much better but can't call to mind the quote).  
    In a way, the movie relates to "growth mindset." Tess is limited by everyone's view of here as "just a secretary" and no one takes her seriously in that role.  She believes in herself, though, putting herself through night school and working on ways to get a job in the business world.  She finds a way to prove herself and her ideas are great.  It's when they all realize that she was "just a secretary" that it goes awry.....but a happy ending is there for dreamer Tess who "made it happen."  
     I need to make some time to watch this movie in full again! It is a classic with so many relevant themes and ideas today....even if the hair and clothes just scream EIGHTIES!! 

James on the Saddle, Wendy and the Candlesticks #sol15 Day 17

     I had a moment last week where I laughed so hard I was crying.  It came at a rather inopportune time, as I was dictating sentences for the students to write down during a Fundations (word study)review.  The sentences are written in the teacher's edition and you are supposed to read them and the students write them- a fairly straightforward endeavor.  Except the first sentence I read involved James getting riding instruction on a saddle and the kids were befuddled.  

     "What type of instruction- writing?" 

     "Why is he on a saddle?" 

     "What is a saddle?"

    By the time I was done with the James saddle sentence, it was time to read the one about Wendy.  The sentence I was to dictate said: "At the explosion, Wendy dropped the beautiful candlesticks." I could not even read it for laughing so hard.  I suppose it is not very funny that Wendy was at an explosion, but I kept thinking she had bigger worries than dropping her beautiful candlesticks.  They waited for me to stop laughing but they were laughing too as I kept attempting to dictate the sentence, only to collapse in giggles again.  After multiple tries, I read the sentence.

    What's funny now, is that the kids keep bringing up Wendy and her candlesticks.  I was reading a story to them that made mention of an explosion, and one of my clever kids said, "I hope Wendy held onto her candlesticks."  They find ways to weave Wendy into the conversation, and even work back to James and his saddle.  It is funny and brings some comic relief to the serious business we are mostly engaged in during the day.  

   I was thinking about challenging the class to write Wendy's story, explaining how she came to be holding beautiful candlesticks near an explosion.  I think it would be interesting to see all the different stories that could develop from that one ridiculous dictated sentence.  It feels so good to laugh in the classroom and it so much fun when we are all in on the same joke together, building our community with camaraderie.  

A Working Mom's "I am" Poem #sol15 Day 16

Disclaimer: I have nothing but respect for moms who "stay at home." It is the hardest job.  In my brief stints being a stay at home mom while on maternity leave and on summer vacations, I know that the days are exhausting and challenging.  This poem attempts to capture how I feel about life at the moment, being a third grade teacher and a mom to 2 kids under the age of 5.

I am a Working Mom

I am exhausted and never done. 
I wonder how to find the elusive "work-life" balance 
I hear my alarm go off at 3am and trudge downstairs to do the work I couldn't do when the kids were awake
I see my work bag,bulging, begging me to finally pay it attention.
I want 5 minutes to myself.
I am exhausted and never done.

I pretend I can do it all
I feel the need to eat lots of chocolate
I touch my children's soft little cheeks and hug them.
I worry I am missing important moments with them.
I cry when I feel like I am drowning from it all.
I am exhausted and never done.

I understand this is a season in my life and will get easier.
I say, "I need to appreciate my blessings."
I dream that I will be organized and on top of everything
I try to be the best mom and teacher possible
I hope my efforts are not in vain.
I am exhausted and never done. 

#sol15 Day 15 Happy Birthday Megan!

     It's hard to imagine now a world without Megan.  Big blue eyes, blond pigtails, following me, calling me, snuggling, laughing, amazing me each day.  

     "You happy Mommy?" she asks me often, patting my face.  When she senses I'm not, usually after she's thrown a bowl of goldfish all over the floor or dumped out her juice, she says, "I'm sorry, Mommy....it was an AGZ-IDENT."

    Megan turns 2 years old tomorrow.  It has been 2 years since this loving, sweet, smart, funny, sassy girl came into our lives, completing our family.  She was the most unexpected blessing, the surprise gift I will forever be grateful for.      While Alex was the baby I prayed for, visited doctors for, closely monitored each twinge for signs of life, Megan caught me completely off-guard.  I was working with a nutritionist to lose the baby weight from Alex, getting back into the swing of teaching, and was all consumed by my 20 month old son.  Another baby felt like something we might get around to someday...maybe.  I just couldn't imagine loving anyone or anything else more than I adored Alex.  I wasn't ready. 

   But then suddenly, miraculously, fortunately, I discovered I was having another baby.  It was an amazing gift since having Alex was not effortless and involved a lot of fear and anxiety that I might never be able to be a mom.  Now, I would be a mom of two and I had to reset my goals, expectations, and vision  for our lives.  

    When I was pregnant with Alex, I read all the baby books, wrote him poems and letters, and dedicated a lot of time to thinking about being a mom.  When I was pregnant with Megan, I was already a mom, working full-time, and I didn't have the same time to write to her and read all the pregnancy updates.  I had a toddler, kindergarten kids to teach, and I was exhausted.  I find being a mom means always feeling guilty about something and the second child gets a little less of that "first time mom excitement."  

     We found out that our baby was to be Megan a couple of days before Hurricane Sandy hit.  I was sure she would be a boy since boys dominate my husband's family, but Megan surprised us once again when we found out we were having a girl! A little sister for Alex.  We bought shade of pink for her bedroom with a lamb theme for her bedding and friends and family showered us with beautiful clothes and gifts fit for a princess.  

    2 years ago, our family changed forever when Megan arrived, all 8 pounds 14 ounces of her.  She was a beautiful baby who cried a lot at first (acid reflux) and liked the white noise of the microwave vent.  She loved her brother and belly-laughed the most when he was around, doing crazy things.  This past year, she went from a cuddly, mostly stationary baby to a little girl who runs, jumps, climbs, sings, tells stories, makes "Sven Soup" (she puts the reindeer from "Frozen" on her play kitchen stove and laughs gleefully as we tell her not to cook poor Sven!).  She is affectionate and loving, independent-minded, artistic.  She loves songs and rhymes and books and people.  She is adored by many and has brought a new feeling of joy and harmony to our family.  

   Happy 2nd Birthday to my Megan, the best surprise I ever got.