Small Victories

I hope I don't sound preachy (I am trying to be supportive and helpful) when I tell Angela, the new member of the 5th grade team, to be grateful for small victories, because often that's the only kind you get.

So far this week, my small victory is that Dmytry had a conversation with me - one that he initiated and carried on for longer than needed for simple communication of basic needs. Dmytry is my sole Ukrainian kid, sorta sticks out a little. You might think of him as small blonde whitecap in a sea of earthy browns and tans.

Dmytry was here for third grade, went back to Ukraine for fourth, and returned to my threshold for fifth.  He's clearly a smart kid, and a little frustrated at first with his inability to be immediately fluent in English. For the first month or two he pretty much kept his communication with me to a minimum, asking in a small, stilted voice "Can I go out?" for frequent bathroom and water breaks. (Recently, without any prompting from me, he has progressed to "May I go to the bathroom" and "May I drink water.") I'm really impressed with the speed at which he's developing English, and my heart was warmed today when he had several minutes-worth of things to tell me about. I only understood maybe 65% of it, but I beamed at him anyway and responded with a vague all-purpose comment that I hoped fit the topic at hand. But anyway, that's never happened before. It was nice.  Small victory. Worth coming in on a frigid Monday feeling under the weather.

Add to the list of staircase questions: Why is the middle finger bad? and, How many zeroes does infinity have?

Also, just to clarify, all the names I'm using are pseudonyms. I just try to pick ones that match the kids.

Meet Georgie

Every year Georgie has a meeting with the the principal. Y'know, share some ideas about how to improve the school, what types of games would be good to have at the carnival, his opinions and insights and priorities for the school year. He's the only kid who does this.

I think it may have even started when I had him in first grade, when Candy saw him doing the Soldier Boy dance he had learned in after-school, which was incredibly hilarious since the dance itself is so atrocious, and he was always a little clumsy and uncoordinated, and he just did it with such gusto.  So Candy took him down to perform for whoever happened to be in the back office at the time, and of course he agreed, because he adores the spotlight. He's one of those kids who adults notice -- probably because he spends most of his time seeking their attention. He is so totally un-shy, will talk to anyone about anything, especially strangers, and he's crown prince of the non sequitur. Everyone likes to mess with him, because he's just so mess-withable...

I will have to get you a copy of the letter he typed to the principal to schedule the meeting. It is hilarious. And, after pestering Candy incessantly about the meeting for a few days at arrival and dismissal, she gave him the principal's secretary's extension and had him call the main office to follow up about scheduling the meeting.  And although it's mostly in jest, I couldn't help enjoying the valuable life lesson he is learning about persistence, and about speaking truth to power...

The other day something precious happened with him.  A concerned parent had come to me to report a rumor that one of the students in the class had brought a knife to school.  After some sleuthing, I deduced that the rumor had originated from one Beatriz, who is, at best, a less-than-reliable witness (and at worst, potentially a bold-faced liar who may or may not have stolen my entire tape dispenser through I can't prove it, and have yet to come up with a good reason why anyone would want to pilfer something as mundane as a tape dispenser.)

Anyway, Beatriz basically fell apart under questioning, never actually admitting to having seen any kind knife, or telling anyone that she had. She did claim to have seen "something green and hard" in Georgie's backpack, with an extremely circuitous explanation about what it might have been, involving her babysitter, a young boy that her babysitter also watches who may or may not know Georgie, and many other illogical and/or irrelevant statements.

But, wanting to be diligent, I had to question Georgie about the allegation. In my calm-but-stern, no-nonsense "you might be in really big trouble" voice, I invited Georgie into my office in the doorway.

"Georgie, I need to ask you something very important, and it's very important that you be honest with me... Did you bring anything to school recently that you are not supposed to have?"

His lower lip trembled. His eyes got wide. My stomach dropped. In a quivering, small voice, he confessed...

"My i-pod... I brought it on the field trip." Trying my best to suppress a smile, I probed further.

"Um.. ok. That's not really what I'm talking about.  Did you bring something else you're not supposed to have?"
Longer pause. He thought for a moment. I thought I spied tears filling up his eyes.

"Sunflower seeds?"

Charmed by his innocence, honesty, and genuine remorse, I thought to myself, "No further questions."

Though they'd deny it vehemently in public, teachers do have favorites, (and others they just don't care for.)  Georgie I love even more every day.

Some articles to get your blood boiling... Thanks, Shorty!

http://www.washingtonpost.com/blogs/answer-sheet/post/when-an-adult-took-standardized-tests-forced-on-kids/2011/12/05/gIQApTDuUO_blog.html

http://www.nytimes.com/2011/11/28/education/principals-protest-increased-use-of-test-scores-to-evaluate-educators.html?_r=1&pagewanted=all

Also, to add to the list of questions I am asked on the way up the stairs...

"Do you think someone could live off radiation?"  Even after probing, I couldn't figure out exactly what he meant by that.

Ain't nothing gonna break my stride

I should preface this by reiterating, this has been my best year yet. One of the most amazing differences I've been feeling is that of calm in the room. I'm relaxed and the kids are relaxed, enough so that I can make jokes and tease them a little now that I've gotten to know them. I feel more like myself while teaching than I ever have before - cheerful, low-key, sane, sometimes silly. The kids are quiet in the halls.  My inner hose-beast has not so far had to rear its ugly head even once!

I realize I'm not the rookie anymore.  I see first year teachers struggling through what I went through and I realize how far I've come. And  I see my kids transforming, working hard, making new realizations...

And just when I had managed to forget the ignominy of the superintendent's vote of no confidence this summer, Candy mentioned that Superintendent Numbercrunch called to check up on me. Like peeling off a scab and watching fresh blood reappear, all that ICK raced back up to the surface. 


It struck me that one thing you need as a teacher -- and it's not something you can fake -- is confidence. The kids need to be able to trust you to lead them in the right direction, and for that to happen, you have to be able to trust yourself. Much harder than it sounds.


But more than any other year, I'm starting to feel confident in what I'm doing, that, hey, this is working after all. And I remember some important advice I have received: to follow my internal compass (because it's always there if you look for it), and also when there is unpleasantness surrounding you, to step into a giant invisible condom until you are safely away, then peel it off your protective prophylactic and dispose of any unpleasantness-residue as expeditiously as possible. 


RIght now my compass is telling me to keep doing what i am doing, because this time I'm pointed in the right direction.  It's telling me to keep listening to my little ragtag posse of students who walk in the back of the line so they can be near me on the way up from lunch, so they can ask me questions like, do bearded dragons molt like snakes, and find out if I've read the Calvin and Hobbes where Calvin starts a tsunami in the bathtub, and ask how the universe began, or have I ever seen a shark tooth, and why did God invent paint?

And although part of me is conflicted about letting them talk in the hallways, a bigger part of me, the part that always seems to win, finds the questions irresistible.  And the part of me that learned how T-bird's mom died in childbirth, and how his dad works all the time and his 16-year-old sister cooks for him and makes him do his homework, and the part of me that knows this kid is absolutely brilliant and really just needs someone besides his elderly babysitter to talk to, realizes that entertaining his questions on the way up the stairs might be the most important thing I do all day.

So I'm cueing my theme music for the day...

Ain't nothin' gonna to break my stride
Nobody's gonna slow me down, oh-no
I got to keep on movin'
Ain't nothin' gonna break my stride
I'm running and I won't touch ground
Oh-no, I got to keep on movin'

Back

It's kind of a miracle, when you think about it, how kids learn.  I just did the second round of reading tests for the year, and I still find it incredible that somehow, kids can read words they couldn't read two months ago, that somehow they understand parts of stories that had eluded them the first time around.

Part of the miracle is not being sure exactly how it happens... I know I follow a curriculum that is supposed to have been researched and lab site-tested and ensures that kids will learn how to read... and yet I can't help feeling that the kids hear me the way Charlie Brown hears adults in his world:  "Wah wah wah wah wah wee wah."

But somewhere along the lines, stuff sunk in! Somehow my voice managed to ooze into the cracks in their consciousness and there they are, mirroring things I've said like little parakeets.

***

In case you're wondering, I'm having the best year yet.  According to Malcolm Gladwell, it takes about 10,000 hours to become completely proficient at something, and according to my calculations I recently reached that mark.

I did not heed my own advice and I acquiesced when MoLo asked if I would work after school this year.  But after a couple of months of constant low grade exhaustion, I heard my inner Buddha's voice telling me to resign, and so I drummed up my courage and did it... and MoLo's reaction couldn't have been more positive.  She said it demonstrated leadership qualities to be able to recognize where your priorities are and that you always have to put your kids first.

So now I'm hoping to use my extra 4-6 hours a week to get back to the blog.  And I'm also starting a girls volleyball team which has been a dream of mine!

Flight attendants, prepare for takeoff

I only haven't written because I've been working non-stop. Everything's going really well. This week we are still on the tarmac - doing assessments, learning routines, assigning jobs, going over the rules, setting goals. I am waiting for liftoff. 

I will let you know when we have reached our cruising altitude. 

Start yer engines

The first day has come and gone.  I prepared endlessly, it feels, and ultimately it paid off. One of the girls (quite honestly, I'm not sure which one because it takes a little time to distinguish between and among them) piped up on our way out the door (only 5 minutes late, and with none of the important papers and memos left behind, which is actually quite good for the first day...). She said "When I get home my mom is going to ask how was school and I'm going to say wonderful!" Which is a bit amusing given that it feels like all we did today was peel and stick name labels onto a million different notebooks and workbooks and folders...

But she's probably reacting to that same, hopeful anything-can-happen feeling the teachers get around this time of year, too.  It's the one that popped me out of bed on several Saturday mornings before school started and had me analyzing the teacher's guide fpr math and creating a Student Math Goal Grid and a break-down of the Test Prep book according to skill... sounds like fun, doesn't it?

Anyway, everything went very smoothly, and I'm happy to report I am fully prepared for tomorrow and actually looking forward to it, in accordance with my personal goals for this year.

Also, another analogy for teaching dawned on me today as a trudged through the dampness of the day to the subway:  Teaching is a 7-hour one-man show performed for 180 days in a row. Each show must be unique, enriching, and tailored to each of the audience members individually. The teacher is not only the actor, but also the writer, director, producer, usher, tech crew and props department.

As I told Shorty this evening, 10 months of being tired begins now.

I have to say, it has been so amazing to have Shorty here backing me up -- making me lunches, procuring dinners, doing laundry, giving me back massages, making sure I get to bed and wake up on time and take my medicine... It's like having my own pit crew in between performances. I'm like an acrobat realizing how much better it is to have a safety net, when all this time I was going without!

Bull-head grab punch, and Dalton

I have been wearing the bull head earrings I bought at a rodeo in Montana this summer as a reminder to grab this year by the horns, or, as I've been saying with my frolleagues (friends + colleagues, get it?!), I'm going to punch this year in the face! In a good way... like, you know, huge impact...

Nothing earth-shattering at the meeting. The part where they talked about the new tenure policy made my stomach hurt. The best part was when Principal P. heroically squashed a killer cockroach that scuttled by, as his usually stoic harem of Assistant Principals squealed and twitched in anguish!  Also, they played a video, which I would like to share with you, of an adorable kid named Dalton who will get any educator at least a little pumped up for the coming school year:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HAMLOnSNwzA

So one more day until the kids arrive.  By 4:30pm today I was viscerally reminded of what it feels like to work a full day. Better get used to it, quick

teacher as interior decorator/systems analyst

Tomorrow will be my first official day on the job of the 11-12 school year.  There is a breakfast, followed by a staff meeting, then time for scheduling, beginning of year paper work, planning, and finishing up preparing our rooms.

I would venture to say that only those who have helmed their own classrooms can truly understand just how much thought goes into their arrangement. If you're picturing several straight rows of desks and a  blackboard with a piece of chalk, and maybe a pull-down map on the wall, you are picturing a very different era.

In elementary school these days (at least in mine), lessons happen with kids sitting cross-legged in the meeting area on the rug -- and given that some of the fifth graders will be about as big as I am, fitting them all into said area is no small feat.  Then there is the placement of the Smartboard so all kids can see it during a lesson, as well as the easel and the chair from which I teach. Then there are desk arrangements: "cooperative learning" requires kids to sit in groups or clusters, and I like to have a "focus desk" for kids who occasionally have trouble, well, focusing while learning cooperatively.  I also need a conferencing area for working with kids individually and in small groups. And, no matter where I am in the room, I have to be able to see all the kids at all times.

And that's just the furniture! From their desks, all the kids need to be able to see the word wall (for spelling), the math word wall for math vocabulary, the calendar, Flow of the Day, homework board and word of the day board, and all the different charts that will be hanging up reminding them of the various strategies they will be learning.  In addition,  kids also need to be able to access the fiction and non-fiction libraries ranging from reading levels L through X, the computers, science and social studies books, the writing center, art supplies, the sink, trash and recycling, the hermetically sealed varmint-proof lunch container, the coat closet, their mail boxes for the memos and reminders that are backapcked home, math tools, and they need space to line up when we go somewhere, and preferably not be tripping over each other when they move around the room...

So, essentially it's a 600-square foot logic puzzle. The only way to know for sure is to see it in action, but I think Sunny and I have finally cracked the code.

September arrives

One of my colleagues updated her facebook status that on September eve, her eye started twitching again.  Another colleague responded that she had started grinding her teeth again... and me, I've stopped sleeping through the night, though to be fair, I can't blame it totally on stress or anxiety because the throbbing pain from one of my wayward wisdom teeth that are slated to be removed could also be responsible.

The teachers have been bustling around at school readying our classrooms. Students arrive one week from today. Imagine one of those cartoon dust clouds, and out of it being flung bulletin board borders, colorful backing paper, and decorative die-cut shapes. If you don't know what those things are you've clearly never been to a teacher store, and depending on your taste for things that are totally adorable! or how jazzed you get if it matches my theme! you're either deprived or fortunate.

I can't say that bulletin board decor is one of my favorite parts of my job (not so for every elementary teacher - for some, it is truly an art.)  But I can say that I have developed some speed and skill over the years.  The trick is buying fadeless paper so that you don't have to do it again the following year, using a lot of staples and/or so it doesn't fall down mid-year, and picking a color scheme you can look at for 180 days straight without hating.  I have embraced classroom decorating this year and am going with a theme of nature, specifically trees.  And, in collaboration with Sunny, who has an identical room, and lots of trial and error throughout the last 2 years, I think we have finally discovered the ideal set-up for the classroom!

I'm actually in pretty good shape at the moment, owing partly to the fact that I put in quite a few hours organizing books and closet space at the end of last year.  Not having to change rooms or grades is a total lifesaver.

Even though we're not being reimbursed for any expenses this year, I've been saving receipts just in case, and also out of curiosity. So far the tally rounds out to about $300.

But now my classroom is $300 more kickass than it was last year!

Garret Keizer for President!

I would like to report a fascinating article in the September issue of Harper's entitled Getting Schooled: The Re-education of an American Teacher. In it, Garret Keizer shares his observations on what has changed about being a public school teacher as he re-enters the school system from the vantage point of teaching at the same rural Vermont school at which he also taught thirty years prior.

One thought-provoking point that he makes is that, although he believes as much as the next guy in the importance of public education as an equalizing socio-economic force, there is danger in placing all of our societal eggs in that basket.   Keizer points out that it might be just a little too comfortable to look at a child who is doing well in school and justify the fact that the child was living with no heat in the winter, for example, by saying that a child who is doing fine academically must be doing fine overall. "Hey, a baby sleeping in a stable might grow up to be the next Jesus Christ." Test scores are not indicators of a child's overall well-being or their chances at leading a successful life. (If only it were that simple.)

Public education alone is not a panacea for all the problems facing children, and a school's relative success despite the odds should not be used to assuage societal guilt that children in that school are living in sub-standard or inhumane conditions.  We cannot forget that kids' lives have many more dimensions than their performance on The Test.

Also, in another very resonant part of the article, Keizer writes, "In the increased emphasis on data and the imposed emphasis on standardized jargon and tests...I sense the encroachment of the totalitarian "business model" that has destroyed family farming as a way of life."  A colleague remarked, "I'm afraid the day of the teacher-as-artist is drawing to a close."

My recent tenure troubles would certainly corroborate that.  The Superintendent who denied my institutionalized pat on the back doesn't know me from a hole in the wall, has never met me or seen me teach or been in my classroom or spoken with any of my students or their families or discussed with me any of my ideas about education.  If I'm an artist, then she has never seen any of my art. But what she has seen is a computer screen filled with numbers, and my numbers don't fit into her equation, and that makes it easy and convenient for her to decide remotely who is a good teacher and who isn't. So you see, teachers aren't artists, they're technicians, and students aren't kids, they are data.

But the part of the article that most caused me to pump my metaphorical fist in the air was remarking on
     
"the number of people  that need to believe you love [teaching.]...'I know the pay is not the        greatest," [they say]. 'but you're doing what you love.' -- a sentiment that puts me in mind of the trope of the happy slave... This is not to suggest that contemporary teachers are slaves or that I was ever treated like one, only that I am inclined to distrust people who expect me to work for love, or who need a sentimental mythology to gloss over the impossibilities of my job and the daily injustices it lays bare."

 I totally agree. I feel anyone who claims to love  the job, which Keizer is careful to point out is different from enjoying the job, must be either blind or insensitive to some of the more perverse realities of the job. Maybe it's just the simplistic terminology of "love" that bothers me, because I certainly don't hate the job either.  I have respect for the importance and monumentality of the task before teachers.  I am amused by the more comical and/or absurd elements of the job. I appreciate the chance to connect with kids and colleagues. I feel pride at the positive changes I've been a part of. I feel tenderness for the simultaneous vulnerability and strength of my students.  But the verb "love" doesn't encompass everything I feel about my job.  Because, in a certain light, teaching is like the story of Tantalus, with the fruit tree eternally raising its branches out of reach and the water always running dry, and a big boulder dangling on the precipice above. "To teach with your eyes open in a region like this is ever to be on the verge of tears," Keizer writes. The odds we face are hard to love.

Nerd Alert

Henrietta and I took a trip to the teacher store today which is still a super fun part of teaching for me. Of course, rumor has it that due to budget constraints we will not be getting the $150 Teacher's Choice reimbursement for our expenses that we've gotten in years past. But I think what I bought will be a worthwhile investment anyhow:  I bought supplies to create a LERNO tree!

LERNO is a behavior management system that Sunny started using at her old school. She taught me how to do it and I tried it out at the end of last year when the kids were getting antsy, and it works better and is easier to do than anything else I've tried.

How it works (and the reason why it's called LERNO) is that each section of the tree corresponds with a letter  of LERNO-- at the top, the sky is L, for leadership. The branches are E for effort. The trunk is R for ready. Below that in the roots is N for needs improvement, and the very bottom layer of dirt is O for off-track.

Each student gets a leaf that corresponds with their class number-- (Sunny's version is stars in the sky.)  At the beginning of the week the kids start in the middle on "ready" because everyone is expected to come to class ready to learn. If they behave well, they get to move their leaf up, if they misbehave, they move it down. If they have a bad day, they get to reset back to "ready" the following day. The kids keep track of their scores for the week on a paper that goes home at the end of the week and must be signed by their parents.

Also, if they are in the dirt for more than a day or two, I contact the parents.  If they are in the branches or sky for an entire week, then they earn a prize.

It's cool because it's a visual reminder of where they stand, and the cluster teachers or subs can use it too, so the kids are accountable for their behavior even if I'm not there. Sending the LERNO charts home is a good way to communicate regularly with the parents about behavior so there are no surprises come report cards. Plus it's a regular way of giving positive feedback to the kids who are always doing what they're supposed to.

Cool, huh?

Look what I made!

Groundbreaking News

Just woke up from my first school dream about the first day. Two weeks until, the dreaming's nothing new.  The groundbreaking part is that, in a refreshing spin, it wasn't a disaster. It was actually kind of fun. I'll take it as a good omen.

One thing I'm really excited about going into this year is that the kids don't seem anonymous to me, not at all! This year is special because, as a fifth grade teacher, I will be teaching some of my original first graders that I had my very first year, month, day as a teacher -- you might remember them as the ones whose lives I was sure I had ruined. 

I'm excited first off, because they appear to have recovered from whatever damage I may have inflicted in my inexperience, and also because I already know them!  For example, Johnny, from when he used to roll around in the coats, and of course Georgie is memorable both because, adorably, he could never pronounce the "g" sound until about a year ago, and also because he is the sponsor of my #1 teaching gross-out story: a snot-rocket launched inadvertently directly onto my face. Left cheek, if I recall correctly...

Anyway, I'm sure they'd all be horribly embarrassed if they knew I was telling you about all the things they did when they were little.  They are big tall fifth graders now, arriving in my threshold in just a couple short weeks, bound to outgrow me by this time next year!

I also know Jono from after-school, a big, sweet, galumphing kind of guy, and I also know TT Cakes, a darling Burmese transplant who is fascinating because he is an excellent writer and has a very good command of the English language, but he doesn't talk, at all. Everyone speculates some kind of trauma, but no one seems to know for sure. The only exception to his silence was my friend Cassie when she was his ESL teacher -- apparently, in a mousy, tiny little whisper of a voice, he passed right out of the oral examination for ESL, with flying colors, of course. Cassie also wouldn't let him win Bingo until he said it out loud. (The nickname TT Cakes is an homage to to Cassie. For her, everyone is a something-cakes or a love-muffin or a darling dumpling. But not in an annoying way.)

So I'm excited.  Trappings of teaching be damned, I'm excited to know, to love, to reach out to, to understand these precious people I get to borrow for a year. This is my first responsibility. Please remind me of this later if it seems I'm starting to forget. 

Un-breaking

"We are born broken. We live by mending." -Eugene O'Neil

Shorty thinks that's a dark way of thinking about life, but I think it's a relief, like falling for the first time while ice skating, or getting the inaugural dent in your new car. If it's already imperfect, you don't have to worry so much about ruining it, and that means each step towards unravelling the original tangle is progress overall.

I've been away, in many senses. There were quite a lot of things distracting me from my teaching and also from writing in the year that has passed since I last wrote with any regularity: a new love (that was a big one) and moving in with my new love, and then an unexpected and devastating death in the family.

Recently, while working at summer camp as I've done almost every summer since graduating high school, I received a rather literal wake-up call with regards to my teaching. My principal was on the other end expressing gently but matter-of-factly that the results were in on this past year's state tests and my class as a whole did not do so hot, especially in comparison with the other fifth grade classes. And, he said, as a result, the Superintendent was denying, or, euphemistically, "postponing" my tenure for the second time, despite his best efforts to vouch for me and my teaching. And he said he likes me as a person and as a teacher and wants to work with me this coming year, and certainly wants me to stay and teach at our school, but could I come and sign the paper work at the end of the month as it's out of his hands.

Now don't get me wrong, I've never given a rat's ass about being "tenured," which if you have it basically means it would be excruciatingly difficult to fire you, and you're more or less guaranteed a job in the school system forever if you want it. That's never made a whole lot of sense to me, nor has it especially mattered since I haven't intended to be a lifelong classroom teacher from the get-go.

And I also have sworn up and down not to give a rat's ass about test scores since I believe standardized tests are not a valid measurement of true learning, or of the overall quality of a teacher, and I don't think they measure what everyone seems to insist they are measuring.

But I found out from the gut-punch feeling that settled into my stomach after I hung up with the principal that, indeed, part of me did care about these things. I cared because tenure and high test scores are this job's equivalent of a smiley face sticker and "great job" scrawled across the top of your report. I cared because, according to a very widely accepted definition, I had failed. I had tried and tried and cared and cried and ate, slept and bled and breathed caring about this job, and stayed late and really really thought I was getting better. And I had still somehow managed to fail.

In addition to a deep sense of insolvency, futility and doom, I was also pissed that my real life had managed to penetrate and shatter the protective bubble of summer camp, where the day's lunch menu and whether or not the evening activity will get rained out are supposed to be the deepest extent of our existential concerns. And a slightly petty side of me was also pissed that they chose my tenure year to start imposing actual restrictions on tenure candidates, when up until then you could pretty much get tenure if you managed to breathe and walk upright.

So I cried and seethed and cried some more, but ultimately couldn't deny what the various, annoyingly veracious voices of reason in my life kept reminding me, that it's only failure if you don't learn from it. So I thought long and hard about the year behind me and the year ahead, and I did what public school teachers are supposed to do best: evaluated the data and set some learning goals.

#1: Time management.

If I confront the hard truths about my teaching, I see that, much as in life, I am usually behind schedule. That means that I end up rushing through important things, or skipping over some entirely. I need to plan my time realistically and stick with the times I have set. I am also a chronic procrastinator. I wait to complete things until I have no choice but to rush through and half-ass them. So that has to change. Also, I end up wasting a ton of time looking for things I have lost, so I absolutely, unequivocally MUST get more organized.

#2: Saying no to things.

It is my knee-jerk impulse to say yes to every opportunity that arises. Yes to working after-school four days a week, yes to 60 additional hours of planning to do a professional development for my colleagues, yes to staying out until 11pm on a weeknight to celebrate a friend's birthday... And I realize it is my tendency to think I can do it all and then end up spreading myself too thin. If one teaches from 7:30am to 5pm, it should not come as surprise that one is wee bit tired at the end of the day, and perhaps not interested in staying two more hours to plan. If one has only had five hours of sleep, it also shouldn't be surprising that one is not at the top of one's game, and even a tiny bit irritable. So I need to pause when someone invites me to do something, think about the other things I have already committed to doing in that time frame, take into account my human limitations, and evaluate what the best answer would be.

#3: Enjoying the kids and my job.

I spent far too many days in the last year overtaken by dread and feeling miserable at and about my job. I realize, too, if I am honest, that these feelings often came from being underprepared for the day, and that my under-preparedness was a result of my over-extendedness. So this year, I will not be distracted by other assignments outside the classroom. My students will be my first priority. I hate to admit that at times in the past they weren't, but having been spread in so many directions, I'm afraid that may have been the case. I also hate to think that I was becoming complacent, but maybe I was. "Good enough" isn't good enough. And even though I think being a teacher, at least of this kind, will not be my ultimate destination, it is where I am right now. My classroom and my kids will be where I pour my attention and focus.

Once I stop enjoying the kids, and let all the other headaches and frustrations of the job creep in and overshadow the joy of being with kids and knowing them as people, I become the very type of teacher I have always despised: miserable, grumpy, jaded, hopeless, negative.

So I am making a promise to myself that I will not leave school until I have planned at least one thing, no matter how small, that I am excited to teach or share or enjoy with the kids the following day.

Finally, #4, I will begin blogging again. Writing about my life as a teacher has been a good way for me to reflect on my day-to-day. And, knowing that the people whose opinions I value most in this world will read it helps me to not ostrich away from my fears and problems, but to seek solutions. So welcome back, kids - here's Teacher Creature 2.0.

March

Around this time

every year

it becomes hard to support

the weight of so many

It's been a long winter of

brave face,

hard nose,

lean heavy on the grindstone

and into the wind

Gravity pulls and at some point the weight

of my body

gets tired

of fighting back against the weight

of their souls,

the bricks and mortar that hold me up

turn out to have been made

of ice

and cotton candy

all along

and are beginning to melt

with the thaw.

Time goes faster and faster,

you see,

and we are flung far by centrifugal force and the force

of their imminent flight

into the unknown.

Their temerity and tenuousness hits us

and chips us,

a bowling ball meeting the sidewalk

from seven flights up.

The unknowingness grates

and pushes,

knowing that so many

are expecting answers,

solutions to futures we

pretend to control.

The burden of faith.

They bestow more trust than

we have in ourselves.

They wait for miracles not

reasonable to expect

from one person's strength divided

among so many.

And so but for their faith in us

and unyielding eyes always

looking up,

we wouldn't be able to

squeeze

this blood

from these stones.