Wednesday, June 24, 2015

The Sculpting of a Middle School Teacher


The last time I was at a school function, I was chatting with a board member. She remarked that she felt she had watched me grow so much as a teacher over the years since my second year when I had taught her son (in my record book, she was the first parent to really yell at me, and in her record book, I am the only teacher of the distinguished line of her children's teachers that she has ever yelled at.  Historical for both of us).  Anyway, the board member came back to me later and said she hoped she hadn't come off as condescending--that she really meant that she has enjoyed journeying through my career with me, and that my "growth" she was referring to was not in the, "Our baby has grown up before our very eyes" sort of way, but rather an appreciation of the careful sculpting of a teacher.

I didn't take offense at all.  Back then, I was one teacher.  But now, I'm twenty teachers.

I see myself really as a ball of clay that gets bigger and changes shape each year.  I started out as a small square of gray clay, fresh out of the package ten years ago.  I was smooth without a single fingerprint on my surface, but also flat and monochrome. Then gradually, I met other teachers, other unique shapes who had once been brand new, like me, but who had since been molded with other teacher clay, resulting in a whole medley of colors and shapes.  Some were soft and warm and marbled from years of working and kneading.  Others were lumpy with blotches of color stuck to the surface, not yet totally blended. Each teaching experience united me with other shapes and colors, twisting me in and making me new. I am never going back to flat and monochrome, because I am now twenty educational colors and textures.  I am twenty teachers.

Therefore, I'm going to make an indulgently long list of what I know so far in my career about how to win at middle school.  Often, best practice isn't written in a policy or professional development book somewhere. Every item on the list has been learned by taking pieces of some outstanding educators in my lifetime and carefully patting them into my skin.  I wear these teachers every day, continuing to let myself twist and fold and blend with them until they all seep in and embrace my students with me, or talk me off the ledge at the end of a hard day.  Enjoy, but more importantly, consider who else has seeped into your skin over time, rounding out your edges and changing your shape.


1. Strike these words from your vocabulary: balls, erect, sack.
2. Keep spare bars of deodorant in your desk drawer for those Spring days when the children reek.
3. Keep Kleenex for drying tears or for gently breaking it to the nose-pickers that people can see you doing that.
4. Have a plan of action to restore calm in case a kid farts loudly and a) everyone notices, b) you think it's funny, or c) a combo of a and b.
5. Appreciate when a classroom door has a mechanism that prevents dramatic slamming during a teenage tantrum.
6.  Become well-versed in planner/binder/locker organizational systems.
7a.  Become well-versed in Tiger Beat titans, XBox games, the latest "I'm a teenager fighting authority" trilogy, and those new songs that remind you of a mix between Color Me Badd and Jay-Z.
7b.  Listen to their stories with sharp focus and sincere interest.
8.  Be a friend.  "No one will even notice that zit, I promise!  It's miniscule!"
9.  Be a parental Life Coach.  "He won't always be this way, I promise!  You're doing a good job!"
10.  Fib when necessary to preserve self-confidence.  See numbers 8 and 9.
11.  Answer every question with patience as if no one asked it already.  One minute ago.
12. Know and accept that in your students' lives, friends are most important.  They need time to practice socializing and handling conflict safely.
13. Encourage play whenever possible.
14. Plant seeds knowing that some will sprout right away, and others will sprout two (or four, or ten) years from now.
15. Hold the bureaucracy at a distance.  Hold your students close. Sometimes a full-out hug is necessary.
16. Watch those Youtube videos your students recommend.  What's not funny about a ten-minute montage of cats licking lemons?
17. Ask them how their days are going.
18. Don't let them congregate at the drinking fountain.  Trouble ensues!
19.  Save their poetry.
20. Get to know their parents.  If you do nothing else, let them know how much you love their child.
21.  Look for the voices that aren't present, whether among students or parents, or whether in the texts our children read or the viewpoints they study.
22.  Don't assess everything.  We shouldn't physically be able to keep up with the writing, thinking, and discovering that our students do.
23.  Make mistakes, be open about them, and celebrate them with your students.  Be open to and celebrate their mistakes, too.
24.  Your sense of humor is the key to your survival in middle school. Even the most irritating situations with thirteen year olds are most likely hilarious to someone.
25. Pretend you have swag.  Then decorate your room accordingly.
26.  If you have pillows or cushions, wash the farts out occasionally.
27. Find embarrassing stuff from when you were in middle school/junior high, like old notebooks or diaries, or school pictures, or even recall stories, to share with your students. Try to make light of the most difficult period of their lives by showing how ridiculous you were (and yet obviously, you survived to be cool now).
28. Beware of creepy dads.
29.  Find a coworker to whom you can ugly-cry.
30.  Don't be afraid to derail your own lesson plans (or someone else's lesson plans) because you learned something exciting that you can't wait to share with students.
31.  Open up your space to students without fretting over supervision.
32.  Realize that your connection to your students and colleagues is divine. More than you know.
33.  Wear weird outfits. Costumes. Wigs.
34.  Work harder than your students.
35. Don't work so hard that you lose your connection to your other support system outside of school (in my case, my husband, children, and friends).
36.  Bake for your students if possible.  Or give them little inexpensive gifts, like notes.
37.  Clean your desk. Just in case you're absent the next day and someone has to look for some sort of lesson plans or class lists and ends up finding your yogurt spoon from last quarter.
38. Take your students outside.  Explore, climb, play, and cheer. Fight for opportunities to do so.
39. Find ways to make sure your students are questioning more than answering, investigating more than memorizing, and creating more than copying.
40. Instead of complaining about the way things are, listen, study, and change them.

What can you add?


Wednesday, July 30, 2014

Capturing Three


Three is hard.  Three yells and screams when Three doesn't get his way.  Three interrupts your instructions with a litany of "no's," and puts his four-inch-tall hand in your face, and tells you--more clearly this time--what he's doing and why he shouldn't be doing what you told him to do.

Three sits at dinner and blows bubbles in his milk until his dad is forced to set down his fork and tell him to stop.  Then Three blows a few more bubbles, more slowly and purposefully, yet recognizably more forcefully, staring straight ahead like a warrior marching into battle.

Three listens for when his sister has been told not to go down the slide on her back and head-first, and then launches himself down the slide after her...on his back and head-first.  Because no one told Three not to do this.

Three also listens for when his sister is tearfully in the Time Out Spot, and then he casually walks by, waving and smiling.

Three runs excitedly over to see what his sister is so excited about on the patio...a tiny roly poly cradled in her cupped hands.  When the roly poly hugs itself into a petrified ball and rolls off her hands to the concrete, Three stomps on him.  Three doesn't like most insects.

Three has been praying for his friend Helena and also his second best friend, cupcakes (no, not anyone's name. I'm talking about the baked goods, in general), for about 200 consecutive days.  Three has called his mother "Mr. Pricklepants" for the last 250.

Three asks for privacy when pooping, and then shouts a simple, emphatic, "DONE!" when it is time for you to come wipe his butt.  Three reports the number of poops he had this time.

Three pushes buttons.  Forever.

But it's not really forever.  Not at all.  In fact, Three will be over in less than five months and then I'll be writing about Four.  Three isn't always easy, but Three can fade in the most well-intentioned memory.  I know, because trying to remember what my five-year-old was like at three is difficult, with only wisps of memory coming through, with the help of pictures and video.

Three demands to be captured.

Not too long ago, I was introduced to yet another amazing poem by Billy Collins, called "To My Favorite 17-Year-Old High School Girl." With this poem, Collins easily captured what 17 looks like--extraordinarily, and not so extraordinarily--in a poem addressed to said 17-year-old.  So, challenged by a colleague in the spring, I decided to take Collins' poem and write for my Three, mimicking Collins' style and borrowing some of his words.

After a trying week at the end of summer with Three, it felt good to come back to this poem.  Enjoy, and capture.

To My Favorite 3 Year Old Preschooler


“Do you realize that if you had been already 6 months old
on the day you were born,
I would have weathered the first six weeks so much better?
Of course, then your gloriously unmedicated birth would have been another level of Hell.
So never mind; I think I needed you to be so small and vulnerable,
even if it wrecked me
for awhile.
At your age, you can lead a charge against Daddy’s requests
more fiercely than Joan of Arc,
and you can make yourself a martyr,
pounding on the other side of the door,
declaring that we are mean and it’s not nice to put people
behind doors.
Of course you know there will be time to argue for liberation
again tomorrow,
or later today,
so when you give up the fight
and come out of the room,
you look refreshed
and Daddy is a sugar cube left out in the rain.
But did you know that at your age
you sing more beautifully than Judy Garland
after the lights are out in your room,
even if you’re singing about
Thomas’ latest adventure?
For some reason I keep remembering that
when Gracie was your age,
I was excited for her to be older.
But now that she’s five,
my years of holding her against my heart
as I travel around the house
are almost up.
And you, you might only have
two years left
of your whole life
that I can carry you with me--
two bodies
and only one pair of feet on the floor.
I know that this is true now
and so I want you to know
at your age,
you sing our family’s song,
you lead the charge,
but that doesn’t mean that you’re not
mama’s little buddy,
my favorite version of you

two feet off the ground.”

Tuesday, February 18, 2014

To My Son: 8 Quirks of Yours that Bring Me Closer to God


1.  Your Playing-With-Trains Position. 
Trains are a major obsession of yours, and you have a particular position that you find to be ideal for train-playing.  You lie down next to the track on your tummy, your head rested on one arm while your other arm moves the train back and forth.  You're brilliant; this position seems optimal for track-viewing and seeing trains as they ought to be--not from above, but alongside.  When you assume the Position, I know that you are lost in a world that only you and Thomas know.  I picture God in a similar position as life plays out for us, too.



2.  We call them your After Dinner Laps.  Every night, without fail, after you finish your dinner, you climb out of your chair and begin a sprint through the hallways, around and around the house.  Every. Night.  The rest of us love to find different ways to intercept you, whether it's Gracie trying to scare you from around the corner, or whether it's Daddy the Tickle Monster snatching you up, or whether it's me chasing you as a member of your track team because, let's face it, it's the only exercise I got all day.  It's predictable and yet never gets old, which oddly makes me think of God's role in our lives--as the ultimate around-the-corner surpriser, the occasional Tickle Monster, and definitely our teammate chugging along behind us.



3.  Your I'm-Mad-and-You-Should-Know-It Position.  Nothing pushes Daddy and me to hide our amusement more than this position that you assume when you are upset.  This maneuver is silent and still and has occurred everywhere from our kitchen floor to the floor of the Science Center.  It's your own version of planking, and it's hilarious.  You don't find it funny, though, and Daddy and I try really hard to humor you by taking you Very Seriously in these moments.  Don't feel bad.  I believe that I probably look like this often in God's eyes, and despite his knowledge that it's not as bad as I think it is, he still takes me Very Seriously, too.


 
4.  Your Awesomely Unchecked Love of Traditionally "Girly" Toys/Activities.  The benefit of having an older sister that you idolize is that you are able to play with girl stuff without being ridiculed.  The
other day, Gracie had her princess dolls lined up with their dresses laid out in a different line.  She was quizzing you on which dress went with which princess.  You knew almost all of them.  Your favorite princess is Elsa, you asked for a wand for a prize at Happy Joe's, and you are happy to have tea with anyone who might be interested.  Needless to say, the girls at school love you.  I have heard it from several of their parents.  I love that you are still at a stage where you can explore all sorts of interests and not have to worry about whether it's manly or not.  You have value no matter what you love and what you choose to dive into. God's been encouraging this lesson in me for a long time and I've never understood it better than when I can watch you play uninhibited.



5.  Your Need to Touch. 
Anyone who sits next to you at dinner has been the victim of The Zeke Shoulder.  If you are ever close enough to someone to touch them, you will, regardless of whether you have BBQ sauce on your fingers or not.  Many of my shirt sleeves can attest to this. You've just always been a cuddler and a toucher.  You like contact and closeness with others.  I think this is why so many of your family members scoop you up as soon as they see you--they love to be on the receiving end of cuddles from you.  I hope you never grow out of this, as so many people suffer from isolation and trust issues.  We all kind of need fingerprints on our shirts.



6.  Your Passive Aggressive Retaliation.  You are a kid who is a lover, not a fighter.  However there are plenty of times that your anger can be pushed to a certain level that I call your Attack Phase.  Somehow, even when you were two, you figured out that hitting or other forms of physical aggression would only get you in trouble.  So, instead, if someone angers you, you will do one of the following: stick your tongue out, roar in their face, stand extremely close to them so that they are uncomfortable, and/or my favorite, hugging them extremely hard.  None of these things are infractions that are technically breaking rules, and you have figured out how to retaliate without getting yourself in trouble.  Well done.  I wish I had the strength to hug people that annoy me, too!  I'm still working on that.



7.  Your Laugh.  Oh My Goodness, Your Laugh.  You laugh with your entire body, heart, and soul.  You always have.  When something tickles your funny bone, we all gather round and watch you lose it!  Your laugh is an encounter with an unreplicable joy, full force. This is one of my favorite videos of you when you were 15 months old.  No further explanation needed.



8.  The Unparalleled Joy That Your Sister Brings Out in You. 
You and Gracie are best friends.  There are times when we visit cousins or other friends and she occasionally ditches you for older kids and you cannot hide your disappointment!  But, never fear, Buddy.  She loves you so much--as much as you love her.  She looks out for you ("Zekie!  Don't eat that!  It has dairy in it!") and often looks past her own desires to make you happy ("Zekie can keep Hungry Hungry Hippos in his room because he loves it so much").  While the road is sometimes rocky between siblings, it makes me inexplicably happy to know you two will be loyal to each other for life.  You are so blessed, and so am I.



This is just a short list of the things that make you the beautiful and highly entertaining three year old that you are.  Though I pray daily that you come to know God and that you can show God's light to others, I have to say that already I've grown to know God's love just by loving and being loved by you.  Also, because I know how deeply you already impact me, Buddy, I want to share it with anyone I can.  You light up my blog, and you fill up my heart.  I love you.

Love,
Mommy