Reason #18: They teach us to stop and listen

When I found out in early November that Shea was transferring from my class, it was with mixed emotions. Relief was the the predominate emotion, which meant that guilt and shame followed closely behind. And then there was the sadness. I went into this profession to save every kid, right? Circumstances left me with almost no options for helping a kid in a really desperate situation. 
 
Fast forward a month, and I found myself rushing out of a staff meeting, hoping to make a 6:00pm dinner appointment by 6:30pm, giving myself the half hour cushion I have come to rely on more regularly lately. My assistant principal walked into the staff meeting just as I was heading out and asked if I had a minute. I followed her out in the hallway, and there was Shea. His hair was cut and there was a smile on his face. He had come back to pick up the rest of his things from his desk. 

Walking back to class together I asked him about how he was doing in his new school. When he looked inside his desk, he found the few remaining relics of his time with us in our room. I shuffled around hurriedly, still racing the clock to make my dinner. When Shea asked me questions I answered quickly or gave a feeble, "Yeah?" in response, all the while making sure I had packed my computer cord. Sensing I was busy, Shea said, "Well, I miss you Mrs. Swanson." 

Without looking up I said, "We miss you too, Shea." 

He walked out of the room and I was finally ready, looking once more around the room. 

And then my heart caught up with my head. 

In the moment it took me to pause and check my room to see if I had forgotten anything, I realized I had forgotten Shea. It occurred to me that I may never see him again; this may be the last time our paths cross. My "busy" was so important that I hadn't been able to recognize the weightiness in this present moment.

I rushed out into the hallway and ran down to the front door, where Shea's grandmother was waiting for him. I gave him a big hug. "Shea! I miss you, too. And I love you. I want you to always remember that." My eyes pricked with tears as I watched him smile and turn to leave. 

Three days later I cried with the rest of our country in the horrific deaths of twenty-six beautiful lives. And my thoughts turned back to Shea. None of us know the number of our days. We don't know how much time we have left with those we love. Our lives are so fragile, changing in a moment.

I keep asking myself, what is it I plan to do with my one wild and precious life? 

This Christmas, I am thankful for Shea. I am thankful he was able to cut through my self-important busyness and help me to realize the life giving moment right in front of me. I am thankful that he allowed me to stop, and enter the beauty, and the pain, in the present moment. 

In the end, all we have are those moments, and then, too soon, they are gone.

Reason #17 They watch and learn

The Chicago Teachers' Union is poised to strike for the first time in 25 years. The atmosphere is full of electricity and excitement. Everyone is ready to be important in this slice of educational history.

There are a lot of issues on the table, but what gets discussed the most is whether or not teachers will be monetarily compensated for their work. It is a reasonable request. And yet, my guess is that even a 19% pay increase will not sate the average teacher looking for a raise, nor will it attract the teacher motivated to make a change.

There are a lot of things that $10,000 can't do.

An extra $10,000 in my bank account does not bring back Ashton, senselessly killed in a shooting the night before Christmas break in 2009. It doesn't keep me from worrying about Andrew, and whether he will get beat up at home tonight. It doesn't give a home to Daniel, or to Sherri, or to Ron. It doesn't mean that Oliver will get enough to eat.

An extra $10,000 in my bank account also doesn't take away my headaches after teaching for five hours in a classroom with no air conditioning in 98 degree weather. It doesn't give me extra hours to collaborate with my colleagues and plan for the next day's lessons. It doesn't mean that my math curriculum won't be changed three times within a four month period. Frankly, it doesn't even mean that the photocopy machine will work (though it would defray the costs of my trips to Staples).

Money is a start in making a statement of a teacher's value. No argument. But it will not make teaching more bearable. It will not change the day to day of my job. I know, because I took that kind of pay cut to be in my current job, and I am more content here than at any of the other schools I have worked in, two of which were union jobs. Money was not what got me into teaching, and it isn't what will make me stay.

I support the union because I support the work of teachers. But in our debates, I wish that we would spend more time demanding the things that really matter:

-Social workers, nurses, mentoring programs, and other wrap around supports. These people change and protect lives.
-Class sizes below 30. No one, and I mean no one, wants to be stuck in a room with thirty sweaty 7th graders right after gym class.
-Administrations in our schools that are competent and fair.
-Shared planning time during the day to accomplish some of the collaboration that is proven to improve student learning.
-Better school environments that include air conditioning, asbestos free tiling, windows without bullet holes, and walls that aren't peeling paint.

By all means, strike. Teachers do deserve to be recognized for the hard work that we do each day. And yes, some of these concerns are being addressed in current negotiations. But in reading the news and checking the general public's pulse on facebook and twitter, what I hear is, "Teachers want more pay." In an economy where money is scarce, are we asking for the limited available funds to be allocated to the areas that would most improve labor conditions? The 16% pay increase comes from somewhere; will it be taken from programs that would have improved the work we do each day?

On Friday I passed out fliers to the students, letting them know that in the event of a strike our school would remain open. One of my students raised her hand.

"Ms. Swanson? Why are the teachers striking?"

"Well, there are a lot of reasons, but it is largely about money."

She nodded her head thoughtfully, and said, "Yeah, it was about money at my last school, too."

While the adults argue, the kids are watching. What lessons are we teaching them? What legacy will we leave them?

Reason #16 They remind us to play

I knew today was going to be an utter failure by 8:31AM. The students entered the door at 8:30AM, and I greeted them while trying to simultaneously enter grades, take attendance, and shush them into submission. It took three quiet signals before the students became quiet, and even then the silence was interrupted by random humming, whistling, a few bird calls (made by students), and an underlying muttering from Quinn that became the soundtrack of our classroom for the next eight hours.

As teachers we create any number of reasons why we have days like these. It's a full moon, they served syrup at breakfast, it was a long weekend, it was a short weekend, it rained, it was sunny, it's hot, the kids are just crazy this year, nobody taught none of these kids any sense, and the list goes on. The truth is, being the only adult in the room, more often than not the blame lies on us. We are the agent of change in the room. We set the tone.

Or, in our classroom, the problem might have been that we missed a prep, had to do standardized testing, and in an effort to cool off the room, we kept the windows and window shades down all day, which is against my general principles on life. People need sun. The walls slowly started closing in on us until we were scratching at the doors and windows to be let out. Children started carving hatch marks into their desks to delineate the endless ocean of time. Misery ensued.

Here's an idea of what happened:

8:30-9:00 Morning Meeting: During our class meeting I had to interrupt the greeting not once, not twice, but eight times to remind the class to be quiet while someone else was sharing. Quinn was sent back to his seat when, after a three second pause for Kylie to think, he called out, "She's too short to talk!"

9:00-9:15 Bathroom Break: During bathroom break Tasha refused to get into the line because she "didn't need to go to no bathroom." This, despite having spent the previous ten minutes complaining about how badly she had to pee, and claiming I was evil for not letting her use the bathroom, even though it was apparent that we were preparing as a classroom to use the lav. When sent back to the room, Tasha decided that she did have to go to the bathroom after all, stomped down the hallway, and started trying to have a conversation with Mary.

Meanwhile, on the way back from the bathroom, Ronald was told to go to his line spot. Instead, he yelled out about how he hated this stupid school. Then, when told to step aside for a teacher conversation, he tried to force his way into the room, only to be blocked in an amazing play by linebacker Swanson. It took ten minutes, a phone call, a pep talk, and some more clever corralling before he was able to return to the room.

You get the point.

It's no big surprise that things were still going poorly by the time math rolled around. I looked into my teacher sleeve of tricks and decided it was time for an energizer. These are short songs or activities that you can do throughout the day that get kids moving and out of their seats. We played "Shark Attack".

Suddenly the mood in the room brightened. Kids started dancing. Sweet little voices sang the tune. Not even Ronald tried to ruin the moment with his usual antics of shouting the lyrics. I looked over at Kylie during my favorite part of the song. Something about the way she swings her tiny hips side to side while pretending to be a California surfer makes me chuckle every time. And there she was, putting as much sass and frass into that move as her three foot frame could muster.

Honestly, the day didn't really get much better. I was close to kicking the kids out the front door by four o'clock. Or I would have been, if they hadn't beaten me to it by running out the main entrance like dogs from an unlatched gate. But in that moment of singing Shark Attack I got a little bit of clarity.

School should be fun. Eight-year-olds need to play. Yes, they need order and structure and routine and good old fashioned discipline, but they also need joy and wonder and curiosity and excitement. My adult mind gets worked into a lather by all the ideas I have to cram into twenty five tiny brains, and sometimes I need to step back and let my kids be kids.

Hopefully tomorrow will be better. But even if it isn't, I am going to work in some more energizers and chances for play. Maybe it's just for my sanity, but I'm pretty sure I wasn't the only one who appreciated our one small sliver of sunshine today.

And if that doesn't work, I have some sick days.

Reason #15 They Turn Twenty Cents Into a Priceless Artifact

The year has started in full force and is proving to be every bit as vibrant, infuriating, and delightful as the past six. The cast of characters is different, but the archetypal eight year old personalities remain. Three days into this year the tattling had already started full force.

My approach to dealing with tattling has evolved over the years. In year one, when all was fuzzy and dark, I generally told my students to work it out on their own. And they did. Generally with fists.

I quickly realized that everything, and I mean EVERYTHING, is a big deal to a third grader. If a sheet of paper crosses from a neighbor's desk onto your desk, it is cause for Cuban Missile Crisis level stand-offs, the fall-out being as potentially nuclear.

My next phase was me playing the role of Hebrew Judge, spending the better part of each day mitigating the grievances each child held against the other. Like Moses, I found that I was unable to make fair assessments of the whole tribe on my own, so something new had to be done.

My kids were my next inspiration when they invented bully tickets, which were essentially papers they turned in to catch other people in the act of doing anything they didn't like in that moment. Our classroom was whipped into shape. Average students were transformed into vigilantes set on ridding our classroom of bullies. However, since we only revisited the bully slips weekly, the feedback loop got a little long. By Friday Alison had forgotten that Michael had stared at her for too long during reading, and frankly what had seemed like a big deal then was not very interesting anymore.

Enter this year's brilliant idea. Notebooks. To my students I call them "SPIRALS" (in all caps, because I do make it a big deal) since every other notebook they use is a black and white. However, the working name is Tattle Books.

Tattle Books are a place where a child can write me a note about anything, turn it in during any transition in the classroom, and get a response from me in writing within 24 hours. It may seem like a lot of upkeep, but it is significantly less work that listening to four different kids tell you how DeAngelo was picking at his socks during the reading lesson instead of listening when at the same time you are trying to choral a class of mostly crazy hooligans into two straight, tall, happy, silent lines.

To date, and yes, the date is very early in the year, Tattle Books are a huge success. No one comes up to tell me things, and when they do I look at them with a very serious face and say, "Is this something that should go in your spiral?" Then they gleefully head back to their seats and start writing! HAHA! It's writing, relationship building, and management all rolled into one twenty cent notebook.

A fringe benefit is actually reading the letters, which is best done over a glass of wine at the end of the day. Surprisingly tattling is much less annoying and much more amusing then. Some samples:

One child let me know that Jerry was bothering her, and if I didn't do anything about it she was going to tell her mom and tell the principal. She ended the note by saying, "Will you get Jerry? Check yes or no."

Another girl told me about how sick and tired she was of the other kids in the classroom wasting her time for the past three years. "Could you please, please do something about it, Mrs. Swanson?"

I watched another student writing furiously in her notebook. As I got closer I saw her writing "Jacob ______________________" "Jacob _______________________" "Jacob _______________" on page after page of her notebook. Apparently she is setting up the sentence stems for all her future tattling this year, not wasting even another minute on writing Jacob's name; darn sure this tattle won't be the last.

I'm looking forward to seeing how this evolves over the year. Hopefully it will translate to angelic students who are Newberry Award Winning Authors. Or at the very least give me some more material for my blog. In the meantime, you can catch me most nights sipping a glass of wine and laughing.

Reason#14 They Change Your Mind

It's two and a half days before spring break and my students are driving me crazy. Correction, some of my students are driving me crazy. Correction, Carter is driving me crazy. All year long we have been working diligently with Carter. He has received pull out support services, after school tutoring, before school tutoring, lunch time tutoring. I conference with him in reading twice as often as everyone else. Despite all this, he still is not moving in reading. This probably has something to do with the fact that when he is not getting one-on-one support he is coloring, staring out the window, talking to a neighbor, digging through his desk, taking off his shoes, leaning backward in his chair, trying to check out new books, trying to go to the bathroom, and/or trying to do anything that isn't reading. This is irritating on its own, but also because it shows a distinct lack of gratitude for all the incredible ways that I am being such an awesome teacher by going above and beyond to meet his needs. (Yes, I can be this petty.)

I get it. We have had some very tearful conversations together in which he has confessed his humiliation about the fact that he struggles with reading. I've tried being the good cop who smiles, encourages every effort, and celebrates every progress. I often default to bad cop and take away his recess, other privileges, and remind him that he needs to pass more reading tests to pass the grade. There has been progress, but considering the support, it has been minimal.

Meanwhile, Carter has been stealing things from my classroom, lying about stealing, harassing other students, CONSTANTLY talking, and of course, avoiding work. The regular blog readers may also remember him for his previous antics of punching another student in the stomach for writing a "bully ticket" about him. For those of you who are the diagnosing type--I know. It's work avoidance and stems from a lot of social emotion problems about which I can most often be very compassionate and understanding. But it's also so annoying. Especially two and a half days before a much needed break from one another.

In an effort to engage him in work yet again, I decided to invite him and a friend to game time on Wednesdays. Every Wednesday we are now playing games together during lunch. Having received an awesome Donor's Choose Grant, I now have thirty board games in my classroom that allow students to practice reading, science, and math skills with almost every game that Lakeshore Learning provides. The grant is incredible, but I digress. Carter and his friend came up today to play the word blending game, Tiki Challenge. As I was pulling out the board game, Carter said to me, "Ms. Swanson, you're the best teacher ever."

OK, I'm a primary teacher and we hear these things a lot. In fact, I have at least six cards taped to my wall right now that share a similar sentiment. It's sweet, but most often fleeting. Carter's friend kind of snickered, so I said back, "Why, because I let you play games during lunch."

"No, Ms. Swanson, because you care about me. You're like my mother is to me. You're like my mom."

It's moments like that when the fatigue and stress of a busy month intersect with the weighty and sacred responsibility of helping to shape a child's life. And I realize just how lucky I am to have Carter in my classroom. Even when he refuses to do his work and instead swings his arms around until someone near him gets stabbed with his pencil. Today I got a reality check and Carter changed my mind.

And for the record, my students are like my children to me. Even the Carters.

Reason #13 They Have Innovative Ideas

My class has a problem with bullying. I feel a little ashamed to admit that on such a public forum, as teachers are often only seen as effective when they can manage their students, and this indicates a deficit in my management. Also, I have written some flowery posts about their care and concern for one another. That's all true. Also, some of them are absolutely hateful toward one another. That's also true.

Sometimes the bullying is small, like laughing at another student every time they make a mistake. However, one of my students with special needs had started going home and telling her mother she didn't want to go to school anymore. That broke my heart. I pride my classroom as being one that students want to come to each day, and take great measures to make it a friendly and supportive atmosphere. So several weeks ago I called an emergency class meeting. Something had to be done about our bullying problem.

We sat around our meeting rug and shared times that we had felt bullied or teased. Then I asked the students how they felt we should deal with this problem in our classroom. Malika got up to take notes on the white board, and the students started brainstorming various ideas.

"What if we made posters that reminded us not to bully?"
"We could have a petition and people could sign up not to bully."
"We could have conversations with the person who is being a bully."
"What if we had a bully ticket and we could give it to people who are acting like bullies?"

That night I started to put their plans into action. I went to the library and checked out twenty books about bullying (plug here that the library is AWESOME!) Then I went to Staples and got poster supplies and twenty mini clip boards for all my students. The next day, we had a working afternoon, planning out our anti-bully campaign. One group worked on posters, another designed the bully ticket. A third group made a petition, and the final group decided to make "Caught Doing Right" tickets to recognize good behavior. Everyone decorated their clip boards that they could carry everywhere, fully stocked with their Bully Tickets and Caught Doing Right tickets. Since markers, foam stickers, and clip boards were involved, the activity was a raging success. But would this decrease bullying?

After a week of collecting tickets we sat down the next Friday to discuss the bully tickets. The students decided they wanted names of people receiving the tickets to be read, but not their behaviors or who had given the bully tickets. Then we would talk to the people who were having the biggest issues. After reading off close to 100 Bully Tickets, we had our two culprits: David and Andrew. Andrew was particularly distraught hearing his name so many times, so we started with him.

Andrew called on students to give him suggestions of how he could make sure that his name wasn't on Bully Tickets the following weeks.

"I think people would like it if you didn't talk about their families."
"Maybe you shouldn't make inappropriate gestures toward me."
"Probably you shouldn't use bad words."

It was a hard lesson in constructive criticism, but overall Andrew took it like a champ. It was followed by compliments of things we like about Andrew, of which there were many. I was so impressed with my students' articulation, thoughtfulness, and maturity in handling the situation. Also, those 100 Bully Tickets represented 100 less times that someone came up to me to tattle, so at least in my eyes, my students had come up with great ideas, taken ownership, and been truly successful.

Andrew learned a lesson, too. Going back to his seat I overheard him saying to himself, "My mom always told me that my mouth would get me in trouble some day, and boy was she right!"

We have all learned some good lessons in our class. There's still some bullying, but having a method to deal with it when it happens has helped give agency to my students and eliminated some of the unnecessary bullying. Sure, it's not perfect and Carter punched Joe in the stomach when he started writing a bully ticket about him, but hey, we're making progress.

Reason #12 They remind you

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.

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.

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.

Reason #9: They humble you with how much they care

Every day we read a book together. The books vary from silly to thoughtful to philosophical to informative. Throughout the story I will stop from time to time to ask students questions, and they will turn to their reading buddy and share their responses to the questions while I listen in to their conversations. For those non-education folk, it's a process called "Interactive Read Aloud" the interactive part being when students get to respond to the story, not just listen to it. I have some personal favorites I like to share, like Spoon, The Dot, and Bill and Pete (a crowd pleaser, since the poaching villian is seen running away butt naked after being scared off from his bath by the crocodile he had originally captured for suitcase skins)

However, I recently discovered a lovely book called Press Here. Each page gives a direction, and then upon turning the page the shape, size, and placements of the dots change seemingly in response to the reader's action. Not only is the book a brilliant way to teach following directions, it is also a delightful read aloud. Last Friday I read it to my students. No, it wasn't rigorous, but each student got to have a chance interacting with the book as I jogged from person to person and they tilted, tapped, and rubbed the book. At the end, I briefly mentioned that a book doesn't have to be hard and frustrating in order to be fun. (I have a LOT of readers trying to read books FAR too challenging for them, as evidenced today when one student entered the room exclaiming, "Mrs. Swanson, I'm reading Moby Dick!!")

At the end of every Friday we also have a chance for students to reflect on their week in the form of a weekly letter. It is something I did with my seventh graders my first year teaching, and I decided to bring it back this year with my third graders. On fancy and fun paper, students respond to three prompts: One thing I thought went well this week was... One thing I thought didn't go well was... My big goal for next week is... Students will respond to varying levels of depth and thought, and the letters are quite enjoyable to read and respond to over the weekend. The students are always excited to come in the room on Monday morning to find a colorful envelope on their desks.

Last Friday, I was especially touched by one girl's letter. This is a student who has been very kind from the first day of school. When other mope and moan, she smiles and participates. She can be somewhat of a tattle tale if someone isn't shaping up to her standards, but she is a dearheart who invited every student in the classroom to her birthday pool party, and who gives her partner a high five if they have done well. Her mom should be extremely proud of her. It's even more impressive because this little girl has some significant health issues that have meant she has had to be prodded by doctors and has long term effects on her life choices. However, she never complains and never expects special treatment.

Therefore, I was so amazed at reading her letter:

Dear Ms. Swanson,

One thing I thought went well this week was: "thank you for reading Press Hear". Everybody loves the book, even me!

One thing that didn't go well this week was: "I did not have a chance to press, sake, or tip the book and my brother did not give me a gift"

My big goal for next week is: be happy for someone who gets picked for working hard.

Love,
Angie

OK, besides making me feeling TERRIBLE for not picking her (I thought I got everyone!) I think this is the most adorable thing that makes me want to go out and hug the whole world and love everyone just a little bit more. I want to be happy for people who get celebrated, and I swear that if I become more able to be happy for those who are happy, it will be in part because of Angie.

reason #8: the quotes... seriously, the quotes

OK, nothing too deep today, although there was a moment when one of my students started crying that I almost cried with him, and I remembered again how powerful and challenging it is to teach.

Later, the same child was upset because another child had said something mean about him. The conversation:

Peter: I'm mad cuz he said all sorts of mean stuff about me, stuff I don't even wanna repeat.

Leo: I didn't say nothin about him.

Peter: Yes, you did. You said that my eyes are slanty and that my eyebrows come together and make one eyebrow. And I can't help that! A lot of people have only one eyebrow! I don't think you should make fun of me because of that.

Me: Leo, did you said that Peter only has one eyebrow?

Leo: Yes.

Me: Please apologize.

(apology)

Me: OK, now we either need to handshake, high five, or hug.

(handshake, Leo sits down)

Peter: There's still something between us, cuz nobody gets to talk about my eyebrows like that!

Seriously, how did I not laugh?

reason #7: They give you hope for the future

Our school has implemented a new behavior policy this year. For the past five years I have been using some variation on the theme of color changes. Basically, if you do something wrong you get a "color change" which ideally correlates to some consequence, and also teaches students basic traffic light understanding years before they fail their driving tests. The color system is far from perfect. More than once I have been tempted to yell "who gives a flying -*(#$ about your color getting changed?!?! IT'S JUST A COLOR! STOP CRYING!" to a child who has overreacted to me moving their clothespin from green to yellow. However, knowing the danger of undermining my own management system, I have refrained from such outbursts.

But I digress. Our new behavior management system is called "Responsive Classroom." The basic principle is that children must learn to internalize appropriate norms of behavior so that they can be polite, productive citizens in the classroom. The three consequences you follow in RC are: 1.) You break it-you fix it, 2.) Take a break, 3.) Loss of privilege. These are not necessarily consecutive. For example, a child who climbs up the slide will need to sit out from recess for several minutes to have a conversation about why we have rules on the playground. (By the way, this lead to tears and a child holding a grudge for DAYS after he lost two minutes of recess privilege... DAYS!) (Also by the way, I can't be the only person wishing more adults would abide by "you break it-you fix it)

The consequences are thought of as "logical consequences" that are both responsive to the behavior, but are not punitive and are ultimately instructive of what should happen in the future. Ideally, consequences match the behavior in both deed and severity. (A child who draws on his desk will clean his desk, not the whole classroom.) I have not kept my cool at every moment of every one of the last seven days, but I do have to say that I have been very pleased to see my students "taking breaks" when they need them without prompting, and overall pretty polite behaviors. After years of seeing teachers futility attempting to wield external control, I like the idea that I could be part of rearing citizens who think. Therefore, I have dubbed responsive classroom "How Not to Raise a Tea Party Activist."

I wasn't totally sold on the success of this program, in spite of agreeing whole-heartedly to its missions and goals, until the other day. Marco was sitting in his desk, hands folded, with red DRANK on his desk. Yes, drank. Do not get me started about the not so secret tie between red dyes and kids acting like they came straight from the zoo. While still instructing the class I walked over the Marco's desk, picked up his drank, and threw it into the trash can. I did this seemlessly, with the expertise only a veteran can manage. Then again, I took a red drink off of an ADHD kid's desk and threw it into the trash can. It's like taking a beer from a drunk. Honestly, I should know better. We spend so much time talking about the antecedents of negative student behavior, and I'm pretty sure throwing a highly volatile kid's drink in the trash guarantees negative behavior.

As soon as I moved away, I saw Marco tensing up. Fists clenched, brows furrowed, he was on the peek of a true meltdown. Then suddenly, as if by magic, he grabbed his chair, whipped it over to our "take a break" station, and sat down to do our breathing exercises. While I continued to teach, never breaking my stride, he sat and calmed himself down. Within a minute he quietly moved his chair back to his seat and returned to doing his work.

I think this was one of the more amazing moments of my teaching career. Without prompting, begging, arguing, or disrupting, Marco was able to self soothe and return to work.

I admit, I cried a little when they told me I couldn't have my stop light up in the classroom this year. My heals may have dug slightly into the asbestos tiles. I was a little like the crusty and curmudgeonly teacher held up as the example of why schools are failing. But Marco has given me hope that change can be good, and that in spite of government shut downs and riots in London a new generation will rise up...and hopefully they were taught in responsive classrooms.

Reason #6: They Believe You

A new year has begun full of brand new notebooks and pencils with sharp lead and full pink erasers. The first few days are always fun as you work your way through the honeymoon of getting to know you and community building. However, some students have needs such that even the promise of a fresh new year isn't enough to whip them into shape.

The student I am speaking of is Marco. Marco is a squirmy noodle with the impulse control of a dog spotting a squirrel. He desperately tries to sit still, only to beat box and whip his body around ten seconds after redirection. He is one of the four students in my room this year with ADHD, a label I am starting to believe is available for purchase with a party-sized bag of Flaming Hot Cheetos.

Marco came up to me on the second day of school to inform me that his butt wouldn't stop itching. I told him that he could go to the bathroom to take care of it. Returning a good while later he asked me if he could speak to me. I told him yes. He asked if we could speak in private, his eyes pleading. I scooted a few inches away from the student conference I was conducting and asked him what he needed.

"Mr. N told me that the reason why my butt is itching is because I don't wash good. And he said if I don't wash good, mold will grow on my butt. And he said when that happens the doctor will have to look at it, and then they're gonna cut off my butt."

It was a statement of fact and also a question. (By the way, just as there is no comprehensive manual for parenting, there is also no class or course that prepares you for how to respond to these comments, or how to conduct conversations such as this one with a straight face.) I let him know that I didn't think it would be a problem because I knew that he would clean himself well tonight when he got home.

Two hours later, Marco came up to me, tears brimming, saying his butt itched again and could he please call his mom to go home. Seeing an opportunity for growth, I asked my resident teacher if she would please take Marco into the hallway to call his mother. A true trooper, she came in five minutes later, grabbed a full roll of paper towels, and walked with Marco to the bathroom to help him take care of his "issue". Later, she told me that it is really a unique feeling to call a child's mother and tell her that her son won't stop scratching his ass.

Marco was much better today, medicated anti-itch cream in hand, and excited to toss it up in the air during our morning meeting, a squiggle worm once more. It got me to thinking. There's something truly innocent and sweet about a boy who really believes that a doctor would cut off his butt. While I was annoyed with my coworker (and slightly amused) for his warning, it does make me wonder what else I might say that my students will believe, and whether I should use my words so flippantly.

Then again, maybe if I threaten Marco with cutting off his arms he might sit still?

#5: They teach you how to give

Two weeks ago the apartment of one of my students burned down. The family lost everything they owned and are currently looking for housing in the neighborhood. The little girl in my room inhaled enough smoke that she had to be resuscitated and taken to the emergency room. Thankfully, she is fine and the scabs from the burns on her face are almost gone.

Books could be written about this girl, she is so resilient. Her positive attitude is a lesson to all of us in giving thanks for what we do have instead of being caught up in what we don't have. Looking out over my classroom, it's easy to forget all that each one of the students have gone through, of the ways that they navigate through life, and in the case of this girl, do so with grace.

The response from the students in my classroom has been overwhelming. Students have brought in clothing to help, and they all wanted to make cards to tell her how much they loved her and how happy they are that she is alright. People outside the class have also reached out to donate items and money to get the family back on their feet.

Everywhere we go it seems as though there are opportunities for us to give our money and resources to help someone somewhere. Honestly, it's a little bit numbing when everyone from the cashier at the grocery store to the person ringing a bell on the street has a cause to donate to. Call me hardened, but living and working in an urban environment makes very little shocking and sometimes it's hard to maintain compassion for the suffering.

My students do not share my fatigue and apathy. In the wake of the Haiti earthquake, one of my students brought in an empty pasta jar full of coins that he and his father had been saving for a year to donate to the change drive at our school. It made the two dollar donation I gave at Whole Foods seem a little pathetic. And the part that made it even more amazing is that he was excited, even joyful, to be part of making a difference in the aftermath of the crisis.

Recently the children in our church spoke during announcements to tell us that they were having a bake sale to raise funds for their Heifer Project donations. Together they had been pooling allowances and other minimal income to purchase a flock of ducks, a water buffalo, and some goats. After the service I went to lunch with two of my best friends. In between bites of hummus, my friend said, "God, I teared up today at church watching those kids. I remember what it felt like when I actually thought I could change the world, when I really believed that I could make a difference."

What happens to that idealism? When did I stop believing that the coins in my pasta jar would make a difference to someone thousands of miles away? When did folded up pieces of notebook paper-frills still attached-stop being sufficient as gifts of love and appreciation? How in the world can I possibly get so lost inside myself that I forget to remember that those small details are what make each day worth sticking around for?

I'm still kind of moping around and angry at the world because of the fire that burned down my student's house. The funny thing is is that she isn't. She comes to school eager to learn, like always. You catch her helping her friends during math and complimenting other students during share time. It's humbling to learn such simple things like gratitude from my students, but I can say with confidence that I'm glad that she is our future.

way #4: They Will Be Loved

It is a very sad thing to see a child taken away from the school on a stretcher, headed for a mental institution. It is an especially sad thing to see two children taken away in less than a week's period of time.

When all is said and done, fifty percent of my students have special needs. I teach a third grade room with ability levels ranging from kindergarten to fifth grade levels, so small group instruction is not optional for me. However, the greater challenge is how to handle students with emotional needs. I have never before in my teaching career made so many calls to SASS or to DCFS. I witnessed a mother hit her daughter so hard she had a black eye the next day, and I had another mother come in with a bat under her coat so she could discipline her child. There are many views on the line between discipline and abuse, and my own opinions have changed over time. As a mandated reporter, I have a narrower rule I follow.

In the past week two of my students, on separate occasions, have been hospitalized for threatening to kill themselves. These students have been having issues all year, and we have been working to get them what they need using what resources we have.

One of the students has been fascinating to watch. Over the year I have seen behavior charts work to curb his ability to control specific behaviors (sitting in his seat, keeping his hands off others, not touching other students' butts, etc.) but when he is so focused on his behavior, it makes him seemingly incapable of focusing on the learning he needs to do. His mother insists that he doesn't behave those same ways at home (I insist that if I got to plop my students in front of TV and video games all day at home, they wouldn't exhibit those behaviors, either). His mother has been resistant to using medication or finding therapy, since she sees her child's issues as a result of choice.

However, his behavior escalated to the point of needing hospitalization. As I watched him hug his mother goodbye before being taken to the mental health facility, my heart broke for this tiny boy. But at the same time, I felt a little proud of him. He is a survivor. Deep down, I know he needs help, and he knows he needs help, and he was willing to do and threaten whatever it took in order to get the help he needed. He screamed with his behavior what he was not able to say with his words.

Children are amazingly resilient, and persistent, and will keep asking until they get what they want. I think sometimes we try to beat that out of them, and I think that's sad, because in some cases, it's their only chance of being heard.

way #3: They've Got Street Smarts

Every year come February, panic sets in and school-wide initiatives are put in place to prepare students for the dreaded ISAT. Standardized testing is the much hated but inevitable part of a teacher's job. This year we spent days putting together a unit to teach testing skills to our students and help them to pass this test.

Some facts: in Illinois, the standardized test is the ISAT, or Illinois Standardized Achievement Test. It is required for all students in third through eighth grade to take these tests. The test contains reading, math, and science. Until last year, it also included writing, but due to budget cuts, writing is no longer assessed in Illinois.

Schools are evaluated based on these tests. Schools have to meet AYP, or adequate yearly progress, each year. The goal was for all students to be at grade level by the year 2014. Therefore, if a school missed AYP one year, the next year the bar is set even higher and the school is responsible for both years' growth. This is all thanks to No Child Left Behind. Obviously, all students will not be on grade level by the year 2014 and the result is the need for changes in the legislation.

However, despite the high bar of all students, the scary part is the low bar of what "meets standards" at a grade level. This year, if a student ranks in the 35th percentile for reading or the 27th for math, they will meet standards for grade level. I imagine that I am not the only person who is horrified both because of the low standards for meeting grade level as well as the low numbers of students who meet grade level given the standards.

However, I digress. ISAT prep time can be a nightmare. It is hard to prepare students to take the test while simultaneously trying to expose them to the concepts that will be on the test that are very often completely separate from their life experiences. Case in point, when teaching sixth graders, half of whom were English Language Learners, the reading passage they had to respond to was about loons. Not one student in the class had ever heard of a loon, as loons are not city-dwellers, and the students are hardly spending summers at their parents' lake cabins. (Coming from Minnesota, it made me warm and nostalgic.)

A colleague recently re-framed my thinking when she referred to teaching testing skills as a social justice issue, allowing low income, urban students to access the test material in the same way as their more affluent, less disadvantaged peers.

The good news is that the students come to the table with a lot, even if it isn't always the information you wish they would know. Students are often very knowledgeable about how to live, how to survive, and other street smarts. Students regularly get their "lick" back and punch someone who punched them, regardless of school rules. Students will cough or spit on food so no one touches it. All in all, it can be a little Lord of the Flies.

Then again, sometimes it can be hilarious, like the gem of this response. The story was Rumplestiltskin, and the job was for students to respond to whether or not they thought the woman was right in promising Rumplestiltskin her first born child if she didn't plan on actually giving her child to him. While many of the responses left a smile, this one made me laugh out loud. And let's be honest, she's got a point... even if she doesn't meet standards on ISAT.

way #2: They cut through the crap

One of the classes I thoroughly enjoyed taking for my master's degree was on special education and special education law. The class was taught by a man with ADHD who had developed very strong coping mechanisms to deal with his ADHD without medication. He also wrote the book, From Disability to Possibility which is honestly worth the twenty dollars as it provides an excellent framework for how to educate and interact with people who have varying disabilities.

Perhaps due to the special education audit during my first year of teaching, or the fact that my mom, aunt, and best friend are all special education teachers, I care deeply about making sure that all students in my class get what they need, including those with special needs. (For the record, gifted and talented does fall under special needs, and I also feel strongly that we miss our gifted students in an effort to meet the needs of our struggling students.)

I am generally the hemorrhoid on the ass of the non-compliant team member at an IEP meeting for any of my students with special needs. These meeting consist of a lot of people with a lot of specialized degrees determining the disability and subsequent educational plan and placement for a student. As a result of the Corey H legislation, in which Chicago Public Schools was sued for violating the Individuals with Disabilities Education Act, all students are required to be educated in the least restrictive environment. In layman's terms, that means that it is illegal to have students with special needs holed up in a basement or a trailer somewhere, left with an incompetent glorified babysitter to rot and die. Student must be with their grade level peers as much as possible in accordance with their disability. In practice, schools strapped for cash in the budget very often fall out of compliance with this legislation as it takes a team of highly motivated (and usually intelligent) people to creatively work out scheduling for all the students with special needs. I believe that this is possible, but it is astounding the number of people that believe that all students should be placed in a self contained classroom, over-exaggerating the disability of a student in order to do so.

I have been called to the office on more than one occasion (at a school whose name will be withheld) and told that under no circumstances am I to tell parents' their rights as an advocate for their child with disabilities because then we might be faced with a lawsuit. "And, I'm tired. I can't sit in front of another lawyer."

In the day to day, practicing the least restricted environment plays out much differently. Students need to know how to interact with all shapes, sizes, and colors of people, and having a student with unique needs (which is in honestly ALL students) makes it possible for us to have conversations about how to make sure that we are respectful and kind to everyone, even those different from ourselves. The phrase used repeatedly is: "Fair means everyone gets what they need."

For the most part, I have been touched by the many ways that young children internalize that and work to be friends with each other. One sixth grade student I taught made sure to sit next to his classmate each day at lunch. His classmate is autistic, and would often not each lunch. Realizing this before any of the adults, my student created a competition with the autistic student to see who could finish their lunch first. When asked about it later, he said quite simply that he knew the student with autism needed to eat, so he had to come up with a way to make sure he did.

One of my third grade students has a cognitive delay. He functions lower in cognitive and motor abilities. On the playground there are many opportunities for this to be a challenge, especially during group games. However, the other students have recognized his desire to play and make sure to tag him "it" at least once per game. After letting him run after them for a short time, several students stand close enough so he can catch them. They do this all without any coaching or prompting.

There are many, many ways in which my students have warmed my heart by reaching out to the other students around them, even those who are different. But it can also be a challenge. Sitting in the computer lab after school, Michael asked why he wasn't able to go on Cartoon Network like his peer, Martin. I explained to him that everyone gets what they need, and what he needed was to go on the testing prep game site, while the other student had earned those minutes on Cartoon Network. Michael didn't seem totally convinced, but he went back to playing his ISAT prep games.

A few minutes later, Michael realized that Toby was also on a different website. I explained again that Toby got to go on one site because that's what he needed. I felt pretty good about the conversation, because I also threw in that neither Toby or Martin get to go on Word to write articles for the newspaper like Michael did, because that's something only he needed. I was pretty sure the message had gotten through until I heard Michael mutter, just loud enough for me to hear, "Everyone else has better needs than me..."

Alas, there is always more teaching to do.

way #1: they don't rub embarrassing moments in your face

Several weeks ago I was sitting down to play a game with my students on the rug. Our math curriculum is heavily reliant on games to reinforce fact practice, so I try to incorporate game time into our math block several times a week. That day we were playing a rousing round of number top it, in which the two players draw cards one by one from the deck and try to make the largest seven digit number they can.

I enjoy playing with the kids, as it allows me to both bond with the students as well as cream them with my superior math skills. (If you judge me, you obviously don't have children) About half way through playing our third round of number top it, I looked down in my lap and caught a glimpse of leopard print. I did a double take.

Perhaps now is the time to insert some background information. I own a chihuahua who, alongside keeping me company and outpacing me on my training runs, also has a bad habit of chewing on things, specifically crotches of things. And by things I mean pants.

The screech I let out was about as subtle as the half dollar shaped hole in the middle of the crotch of my pants. It definitely did little in the way of drawing attention away from this obvious humiliation. However, I did my best to "discretely" pull my shirt, which was mercifully long, over the hole and play it cool hoping the three nine year old boys had not spent the last ten minutes of our playing number top it looking at my pants... or what was left of them.

I had to make a decision, to play off the whole situation and hope that, despite it being 1:30 in the afternoon and school having been in session for five hours of learning, squatting, and yoga-styled sitting, maybe none of the students had noticed. Or I could address the situation head on and grab the bull by the balls, so to speak, announcing that I was aware there was a hole in my crotch, and own it.

I definitely tried to play it off and prayed to God that none of my students had noticed.

Unfortunately while letting the students clean up from math, I heard snippets of conversation that made me feel pretty confident that they all knew.

"Well... no one's gonna tell her!!"

And there were the sideways looks and smirks that made it a safe bet that the students not only knew what had happened, but were one recess break away from spreading the news school-wide. It's incredible that whether as a third grader, or a third grade teacher, no one is immune from the school gossip chain.

Yeah, it was embarrassing. Yes, I screamed about it on the phone with my friend immediately following dismissal. Of course I made extra sure to keep my legs closed and shirt pulled down. But the good thing is that I didn't receive any phone calls from parents, demanding to know why their child is talking about the pattern of my panties. The kids were cool enough to keep it between us, which is pretty decent.

Also, I threw away the pants.

In way of introductions

I am writing this blog not because I have something particularly new or enlightening to say, but because I find myself at a crossroads. I am half way through my fifth year of teaching in a high needs, urban setting. Also, I am exhausted. Looking at the next few years, it is easy to become overwhelmed with the idea of another year, another set of needs, more referrals and groupings, pushing students to achieve two to three years of academic growth in one academic year. The political climate does little in the way of alleviating tension or stress, and though dedicated to my job, committed to the ideals of closing the achievement gap in America, and relatively successful at what I do... I want to quit.

This blog is a challenge to myself to find 500 ways, 500 reasons, 500 stories, 500 moments that remind me why I get up each morning. Along with teaching third graders, I also work with a junior high youth group of unconventional tweens in an unconventional church. I am surrounded by young people who literally make each day worthwhile, and I lose sight of that in the midst of testing and note-taking, and the daily barrage of emails and to-dos.

Alas, I digress into sentimental mush, something I anticipate there will be plenty of through-out the following 500 entries. But let me be clear that I in no way plan to romanticize what happens in the day to day. Kids can be bratty, entitled, obnoxious, rude, and plain dumb. Then again, so can we all... and that's what will make all of this so much fun.