I remember my first time. For my ninth birthday my parents gave me a gift certificate to our local children's bookstore, The Red Balloon, and I chose to buy Matilda by Roald Dahl. It was a big deal to venture away from the many different "series" books I had been reading, like The Babysitter's Club, and Sweet Valley Twins. However, my sister, who I saw as a little lower than the gods, had recommended this book to me and therefore I had to read it.
Read it I did. Sitting at the Labor Day picnic with my parents and their friends, I devoured Matilda. I read and kept reading, despite laugher floating around me, and a full-sized children's playhouse to tempt me. I was lost in the world of reading. It was the first time I realized that reading isn't just telling stories. It's magic.
Yes, I am a nerd when it comes to reading. At the advice of Levar Burton, I took a look in a book, and the rest is history. Each year in my classroom, I see it as my job to transfer this magic to my students. It isn't just because I love reading, though that is a large part of it, but reading is necessary for student achievement. Students who are not on reading level by first grade are likely to stay behind in reading forever. One report says that 70% of prison inmates score below the 4th grade level of reading. Teaching a child to read doesn't just open up new worlds of books, it opens up legitimate and legal opportunities for their futures.
My favorite part of every day is the hour we have for reading. I sit down with students, pull out their reading folders, talk to them about what their reading, write their reading goals in their reading notebooks, and watch them transform into bonafide readers. Magic.
This has been taking place is a brand new way this year in my classroom due to my donorschoose grant I received for nook e-readers. In our latest batch of testing data, it showed that my highest readers were not growing at the rate of the rest of my students. This is not surprising, as many schools encourage teachers to teach the lowest readers, since the highest ones are slated to pass the tests with or without my instruction. However, at one time I was one of those "high readers" and therefore am unwilling to leave them behind. Each of the six readers has a nook to read and take home. They treat them as precious gold, cradling them in their arms like new born babies. One girl brought a hand purse from home to put her nook in, and she proudly struts the building with her new fashion accessory. The e-readers have piqued my students' interest for books.
However, that is just the start. Interest isn't enough, it has to be followed with commitment and determination. Enter: Shanna. Shanna is a sassifrass who is too smart for her own good, but has been listlessly thumbing through Frog and Toad for most of the year. In spite of many conferences, the extend of her reading log has been board books and the occasional Captain Underpants novel. Uninspired to say the least, she would rather chat than spend thirty minutes of her time reading.
I decided to introduce Shanna to Hatchet by Gary Paulsen. I read this in fifth grade, and still haven't forgotten the epic "Man vs. Wild" saga of a teenage boy left to fend for himself in the wilderness of the north woods with only a hatchet for company. I gave her a short book introduction, and sent her on her way crossing my fingers that she would be drawn in by this new book.
Was she ever. The next day she had read not just the first two chapters as I had asked, but the first FIVE chapters. In the past two days she has gotten to chapter thirteen, and is likely to finish the book this weekend. I now get chapter by chapter status updates of Brian's progress in the woods, whether I want them or not, whether I am teaching the students about reading, or in the middle of a science lesson. I have to pry the nook from her hands when it's time for other subjects, because otherwise she is drawn back to her story like my other students are drawn to their flaming hot Cheetos.
Did I mention that this same sassifrass girl, the one who would look me straight in the eye and laugh in my face, has had almost no behavior infractions since she started to read Hatchet? (She did, after all, chase James around the room when he tried to take her nook) See, reading really is magic, and it really does change lives.
Saturday, January 21, 2012
Sunday, January 15, 2012
Reason #11 They keep you honest
I will never forget the day, two months into teaching a group of unique and brutally honest seventh graders, that my student came up to ask me what the thing was hanging from the lanyard over my neck. I answered, perhaps too proudly, that it was my keys and a gym membership card. She looked at me sideways and said, "Oh. You don't look like you go to the gym." And then she walked back to her seat leaving me in a puddle of mortification. There have been countless more moments like this one in my teaching career. I have gotten tough, or tougher, but kids sure do have a way of knocking you off that pedestal you didn't know you'd been balancing on.
My co-teacher had her kindergarten student come up to her adoringly and stroke her hair that she had haphazardly put in a pony tale. "You're so beautiful" he said. "But only when you wear your hair down. Not when it's up like that." Ouch! When she told me she was somewhere between a belly laugh and a grimace.
A few days ago my other colleague told me she was getting into a conversation with a student about the definition of a habit. She told him it is something that you do all the time, sometimes without even knowing it. "Like the way you chew on pens?" he offered. Touche.
I am of the belief that if a child is honestly speaking their mind with you it signifies some sort of trust. A friend recently told me in her Early Childhood and Family Education class they talked about how healthy kids will tell parents they hate them, will test boundaries and limits, and will push parents away, because they know that they are always safe to come back. They are safe in their parent's love for them and therefore willing and able to take risks. Of course, that leaves the rest of us bruised and sometimes battered by the pushing and the honesty we weren't quite sure we wanted. But I try to keep that in mind when David writes me an "anonymous" note that says, "I hate tattle tells, and I hate it here!"
Teachers get a big brunt of the exposure, but parents have it the worst. Like it or not, children are the sponges that pick up our clean and our dirty, and then squeeze it out just when we thought we were safe. Last week one of my students was caught doing something naughty while standing next to his best friend. A teacher friend said to student one, "Why did you do that? That is a nasty attitude!" Without hesitation, student one's best friend piped in, "Oh, he gets that from his mama!"
Maybe it will be awhile before I have kids of my own. I'm not sure I'm ready for the level of self reflection necessary to be the sole bearer of the wisdom from these little truth sayers. In the meantime, though, I have twenty student ready and waiting to breech the gap.
My co-teacher had her kindergarten student come up to her adoringly and stroke her hair that she had haphazardly put in a pony tale. "You're so beautiful" he said. "But only when you wear your hair down. Not when it's up like that." Ouch! When she told me she was somewhere between a belly laugh and a grimace.
A few days ago my other colleague told me she was getting into a conversation with a student about the definition of a habit. She told him it is something that you do all the time, sometimes without even knowing it. "Like the way you chew on pens?" he offered. Touche.
I am of the belief that if a child is honestly speaking their mind with you it signifies some sort of trust. A friend recently told me in her Early Childhood and Family Education class they talked about how healthy kids will tell parents they hate them, will test boundaries and limits, and will push parents away, because they know that they are always safe to come back. They are safe in their parent's love for them and therefore willing and able to take risks. Of course, that leaves the rest of us bruised and sometimes battered by the pushing and the honesty we weren't quite sure we wanted. But I try to keep that in mind when David writes me an "anonymous" note that says, "I hate tattle tells, and I hate it here!"
Teachers get a big brunt of the exposure, but parents have it the worst. Like it or not, children are the sponges that pick up our clean and our dirty, and then squeeze it out just when we thought we were safe. Last week one of my students was caught doing something naughty while standing next to his best friend. A teacher friend said to student one, "Why did you do that? That is a nasty attitude!" Without hesitation, student one's best friend piped in, "Oh, he gets that from his mama!"
Maybe it will be awhile before I have kids of my own. I'm not sure I'm ready for the level of self reflection necessary to be the sole bearer of the wisdom from these little truth sayers. In the meantime, though, I have twenty student ready and waiting to breech the gap.
Saturday, January 7, 2012
Reason #10: They Give What They Have
A few months ago one of my student's family's house burned down. Thank goodness no one was hurt, but being immigrants they had little to begin with and much of their income was the cash burned by the fire. The day after the fire Anna came to school with tears in her eyes. A translator told us that the family house had burned down and they were staying with friends. Anna spent most of the day with her head on her desk. She fell asleep at one point and at another she helped me set up our new bulletin board. Her usual bubbly personality was subdued by the shock of what had happened the day before.
Enter: Max. Max is a student with a hearing aid, a tiny stature, and the goofiest personality and dance moves you can find in an eight year old. He slurs his words slightly when he speaks, and for the life of me I cannot get him to focus for more than about thirty seconds at a time. Max is in love with another girl in the classroom, who also has hearing problems, a small stature, and a disdain for Max. She spends most of her time putting up colored folder towers to block her face from Max's adoring looks. The remaining moments of her time are spent telling me that Max is looking at her again, or making vague comments like, "How do you get someone you don't like to stop bothering you?" Max persists.
A week after the fire burned Anna's house, Max came up to me to ask if I got the letter from his grandma. I said that I had given it to the office, like it said on the envelope. He kept bringing it up, though. Eventually he told me that his grandmother would like to help get something for Anna and her family. I told him that I thought that was very nice, and the office dealt with the details of getting the families together.
The day before Christmas break, Max's grandmother asked if she could come for the party that was being thrown for our students. Volunteers were coming to help rotate the students through a series of stations, including "Pictures with the Grinch" and "Decorate Cookies" while the teachers took over the second floor of the building and had their own holiday party including "Dance to the latest hip-hop music" and "Ignore the screaming downstairs". Unfortunately for the volunteers, their party came after the classroom parties which included "Shove your mouths full of sugar" and "Stay still and quiet for movies". Due to the high parent volunteer turn out of my classroom, our stations were relative successful. Unfortunately we were the exception.
Leaving school that day, Max's grandmother came up to me and told me that I have a real gift. She said you have to be called to be a teacher. I agreed. Then she asked about Anna. I told her that she seemed to be doing well, and that it was really nice of her to donate some things to Anna. She looked at me and said, "Yes, Max was so upset to hear about what happened to Anna. He came home one day crying. We talked about it and I asked him what he wanted to do to help. He decided that he would give up his Christmas presents, and we could use that money in order to buy some things for Anna."
My heart grew three sizes that day. As I told one of my coworkers the story while we waited outside at dismissal, I saw Max running off with the YMCA after school program. All of a sudden, he stopped and came sprinting top speed back to his grandmother. His grandmother lightly scolded, "Max, go along to the Y." He looked up at her, gave her a huge hug, said "I love you" and went sprinting back to his after school group. Max's grandmother looked at me and we smiled. Yes, teaching is a calling I am grateful to have received.
Enter: Max. Max is a student with a hearing aid, a tiny stature, and the goofiest personality and dance moves you can find in an eight year old. He slurs his words slightly when he speaks, and for the life of me I cannot get him to focus for more than about thirty seconds at a time. Max is in love with another girl in the classroom, who also has hearing problems, a small stature, and a disdain for Max. She spends most of her time putting up colored folder towers to block her face from Max's adoring looks. The remaining moments of her time are spent telling me that Max is looking at her again, or making vague comments like, "How do you get someone you don't like to stop bothering you?" Max persists.
A week after the fire burned Anna's house, Max came up to me to ask if I got the letter from his grandma. I said that I had given it to the office, like it said on the envelope. He kept bringing it up, though. Eventually he told me that his grandmother would like to help get something for Anna and her family. I told him that I thought that was very nice, and the office dealt with the details of getting the families together.
The day before Christmas break, Max's grandmother asked if she could come for the party that was being thrown for our students. Volunteers were coming to help rotate the students through a series of stations, including "Pictures with the Grinch" and "Decorate Cookies" while the teachers took over the second floor of the building and had their own holiday party including "Dance to the latest hip-hop music" and "Ignore the screaming downstairs". Unfortunately for the volunteers, their party came after the classroom parties which included "Shove your mouths full of sugar" and "Stay still and quiet for movies". Due to the high parent volunteer turn out of my classroom, our stations were relative successful. Unfortunately we were the exception.
Leaving school that day, Max's grandmother came up to me and told me that I have a real gift. She said you have to be called to be a teacher. I agreed. Then she asked about Anna. I told her that she seemed to be doing well, and that it was really nice of her to donate some things to Anna. She looked at me and said, "Yes, Max was so upset to hear about what happened to Anna. He came home one day crying. We talked about it and I asked him what he wanted to do to help. He decided that he would give up his Christmas presents, and we could use that money in order to buy some things for Anna."
My heart grew three sizes that day. As I told one of my coworkers the story while we waited outside at dismissal, I saw Max running off with the YMCA after school program. All of a sudden, he stopped and came sprinting top speed back to his grandmother. His grandmother lightly scolded, "Max, go along to the Y." He looked up at her, gave her a huge hug, said "I love you" and went sprinting back to his after school group. Max's grandmother looked at me and we smiled. Yes, teaching is a calling I am grateful to have received.
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