It’s Back to School Time, Give a TeacherMom a Hug!- Guest Post by KJ Cabacar

This is a guest post from my amazing friend and colleague who rocks at both being a mother and being a teacher.

Dear Workingmom, Stay At Home Mom, CoWorker, Principal, Everyone out there besides us TeacherMoms-

I have seen, heard, and read so many open letters to stay at home moms, working moms, moms in general I can’t keep count.  As I sit here surrounded by school supplies and back to school forms, I can’t help but think there has to be other moms out there like me.  Somewhere there have to be others facing what I am facing and making it through because otherwise what hope do I have? There has to be more of me and like me they have need a hug this time of year too, desperately.

We are the TeacherMoms of the world.  The moms that get up and send their kids to school so that they can stand at a classroom door and happily greet yours.  We are the moms that attend numerous back to school nights and then get up and lead one of our own.  We are the moms that pick up the items on the back to school list times three (one for our own kid, an extra set for the class, and one for our own classroom.)  Yes, we choose to do this to ourselves year in and year out, not because it’s a job but because it’s a passion.  And yet that doesn’t mean it is easy. It doesn’t mean we don’t need someone to look at us and say, "You are doing great! Keep loving those 30 plus kids you are in contact with day in and day out!"

Really, I don’t want your sympathy, because I love what I do, and that’s why I do it.  I love that I get to create leaders, encourage champions, and share moments with the next generation.  I love that my days are filled with fifth grader goofiness, recess, and yes even math with its fractions and long division! And I love that my nights are filled with bedtime stories, two year old grins and five year old secrets. I love my life and my world, but I could still use a hug.

See, when you are a Teachermom, teachers look at you and your child differently.  Since teaching is our profession our child is naturally meant to be a perfect student.  After all, we know what that should look like, so that’s what we should produce.  Our children should automatically be reading before kindergarten, writing short stories before first grade, and solving for X by third grade.  Right?!  One of my coworkers recently did a DRA with my son because she needed to complete one for a summer class.  She explained to her instructor that it was a student going into K and would it be okay.  The instructor replied that most children going into K don’t know enough letters or sounds to get a secure DRA score.  When my friend told her it was a teacher’s child, the response became, "Oh then they’ll be fine and it should work out great!"

Why?

What makes my child so very different? I work very hard not to be a teacher in my son’s eyes.  I want to be his mommy, not the site word flashcard crazy lady!   The pressure can be so high, I actually have a friend that will not, will not allow her children to tell their teacher that their mom is also a teacher.

As September rolls into October and the Facebook feeds get filled with the precious porch pictures with the blackboard signs announcing grade levels, remember to love on a TeacherMom.  We can’t get that photo of our kids because we are busy getting our rooms ready to receive your kids.  When you steal an hour from work to drop in for an author’s party, remember to love on a TeacherMom.  We can’t steal those hours because we are hosting
those parties.  And when you sign on to chaperon a field trip, remember to love on a TeacherMom. We can’t attend those field trips because we are arranging trips for your kids.

 It’s Back to School Time, It’s Hug A TeacherMom Time!

The Beginning of the Beginning

I'm not sure how it's happened that the first week and a half of school has happened and I haven't had a chance to blog. Keeping up with my three year old and my six month old paired with the beginning of the year exhaustion has left me with lots of blog posts running through my head and very little time to sit down and put them on paper. This year I'm running our local screening and working with a variety of students and classes throughout the building but I do not have my own caseload. I love working with different students in different grades, but my heart, especially this time of year, belongs to kindergarten.

If you are not a kindergarten teacher it is impossible to fully grasp the monster that is the first month of kindergarten. These teachers are taking babies- children who until a few weeks ago spent a blissful five years with their families, in day cares or preschools, napping in the afternoon, eating delicious snacks, playing games, and giggling with friends. Suddenly they are in a class with twenty plus other kids also competing for the adult's attention. They are expected to do whatever this adult says even if it makes no sense to them whatsoever, and they can't just wander around and play with whatever they see. If they want to speak they have to raise their hand, if they go anywhere it has to be in a line where they have to stand behind some kid who walks too slow and somehow not step on his feet. They have to walk in this line over and over again to practice for this thing called a fire drill- which is crazy because there is no fire but all the adults act like there is one and get really grouchy if they talk- even if they are simply pointing out that there is no fire. While practicing the fire drill they can actually see the playground and breath the fresh air but they cannot go running freely towards the slide. Even though it is RIGHT there. If they do the adults get crazy mad. They have to eat on a schedule. They can't nap. They have to stay in one room unless an adult says otherwise. They can't tell the teacher about their brand new shoes or their baby brother's birthday next week or that they don't like the color orange whenever the thought pops into their head. There are bells and signals and songs and books and directions and directions and directions. Their little worlds are completely turned upside down. Let's not forget that some of them barely speak English and are doing all of these crazy new rituals in a foreign language.

In a month the kindergarten classrooms will be smooth running machines. They will look like what we think school should look like. But the first few weeks? Those babies are having their worlds rocked. For those of us who get to pop in and out of the classrooms to help it's cute and entertaining. For their teachers- well, I hope they are all enjoying large glasses of wine and being pampered at home every evening. They are introducing students to their school careers, patiently and kindly setting the tone for their school journey. It's messy, exhausting and extremely important. Every one of those teachers should be given a full body massage at the end of September.

And we... survived?

No really, we did.

The first week is always this amalgonum of high hopes and expectations, reality, and survival. I can't help but get to the end of the week and thing, "Good grief, the kids have the same behaviors they had on the first day, they still don't know X, Y, and Z, and what's worse, I only got to half of my plans. This week was a disaster!"

It's hard to remind myself that four days of school doesn't magically make children into super star students. It's going to take a little more time, love, patience and direct teaching to change behaviors and get new knowledge in place. The first week has to be about building community, getting comfortable with routines, and letting each child find that they fit into the classroom.

I say this every year. I go into every year telling other teachers to relax, it's going to be OK, follow Responsive Classroom's First Six Weeks of School. And yet...  the end of the first week always feels a bit like a failure. Really, it's more like the first water stop at the beginning of a 10 mile hike. You're already tired and you feel a blister coming. You've made meaningful progress but it's so tiny that you can't even appreciate it because the mountain ahead is so steep.

But we'll get there.

I have four friends returning to my room this year and three new friends. (Sadly, Rock Star has moved on to an older class. I still get to see her every day and she continues to amaze me with her growth and progress). However, losing three students and gaining the new three has really changed classroom dynamics. Not in a bad way, just in a different way. The class has a different feel and a different focus. The kids that were used to being the followers now have no choice but to be the leaders. Everyone is taking some time to get comfortable in their new roles. We'll gett there, but it's all about baby steps.

And then... *gasp, turn page slowly*...

A few years ago my Partner in Crime and I found that we had a group of kindergarten students who absolutely had no idea how to listen to books. Most had never been read to so they had no concept of the fact that if they sat and listened books could be fun. They didn't understand that they could hear a story, or that the pictures would entertain them, or that they needed to listen quietly to hear the exciting parts. After working with our literacy coach we decided to take one giant step backwards, throw out our current lesson plans and teach how to listen to a book.

This involved many dramatic and involved read alouds. Lots of singing and jumping with the text, pointing to the words and laughing, acting out stories, asking the kids to turn the pages, and just general "read it with me" whenever we read repetitive texts. We read stories over and over again, with the same amount of enthusiasm and energy each time. We looked for books that would excite them- not our favorite books, not books with beautiful pictures or good lessons- books that would hold their attention and make them want to see what happened next.

My teaching has never been the same.

Ever since then my beginning of the year read alouds are the equivalent of a one woman play. They are dramatic and engaging and fully involve the audience. We build community and our literacy skills all together and really spend time celebrating these books. We practically sing and dance to each book. Although some of my children cannot write their names or identify the letters in their names they can pick up a book from our "read aloud" pile and "read" it to themselves. They get lost in the books just like we adult readers do. They start to build the reason why they are going to work so hard on learning to write their names and learning their letters.

Here's a few of my favorite interactive read alouds:

-Anything by Mo Willems (The Pigeon Wants a Puppy, Piggy and Gerald, Knuffle Bunny)
-Mrs. Wishy Washy
-Pete the Cat (any of the books, but especially Rocking in my School Shoes)
-The Recess Queen
-Purple, Green, and Yellow by Robert Munch
-Thomas' Snowsuit by Robert Munch (OK, I save this one for winter, but it's a great interactive read aloud)
-Rhyming Dust Bunnies by Jan Thomas
-PJ Funny Bunny


What are your favorite exciting read alouds?

What's inside?

I continue to absolutely love my class. They are amazing and are going to push me to learn so much.

Most of them have already surprised me in so many ways. As many children with intellectual disabilities do, they can appear as though they are not as capable as their general education peers. Yet in only the second day I'm already seeing amazing glimmers of their bright abilities shinning through. I give them activities I think they are going to struggle with and they fly with them independently. Some rarely speak but when prompted in just the right way they are able to share what they know. Now it's my job to figure out exactly the right way to prompt them in order to see what they know and then determine the best way to build onto what they have.

Right now I can barely keep a linear thought- I have so many goals and ideas for each child that by the time I pick up the pen to jot myself a note I've thought of something else and I've lost my original thought. The classroom community is coming though. It might not be pretty yet but we're working our way there. If I can just stay focused on one idea long enough to pull out a coherent lesson plan we'll be good to go...

First day reflections

I am curled up on my couch, nursing a glass of wine and trying to fully comprehend everything that happened today.

My kids are ROCK STARS. I mean, I absolutely adore my students. We rock. The other teachers I work with rock as well. We had lots of smiles, lots of songs and dancing and singing. We read Pete the Cat twice and sang along both times. We read two Gerald and Piggy books and giggled at those crazy friends and their antics.

It's my first time teaching in what is considered an "Intellectual Disability Program" which essential means that the children in our program are not necessarily the children who live in the school's boundaries. Instead they are children from around the county who are bused to a school that houses a program like ours. I still have a lot to learn in terms of how these programs work.

For one, the busing is a bit overwhelming. All of our students ride buses that are different from the school's neighborhood buses since they are coming from all over. This means the bus routes are not as smoothly set as the buses for the neighborhood. The buses are late, which means we get our children late and it means they leave late. I can't even tell you how sad it was to see our children sitting so quietly with their heads down, fighting sleep at the end of a very long day, when all of their peers had gone home. I know it will get better (we've already gotten an email about the changes they've put into place for tomorrow) and it is just first day kinks, but it was rough to watch them patiently wait for buses that seemed to never come.

Then there is the schedule. We don't have one yet. We're still working out when our children are included in their other classes and when they stay with us, which means right now I don't have a full schedule. No lunch break or planning period for me. I ate half a sandwich during "quiet time" after lunch and finished it off on my frantic drive to pick up Baby Lipstick (I was a full 30 minutes late). Again, just first week kinks- I have no doubt it will get better- I always just forget how hard the first week really is with so much up in the air.

I hate to sound like I am complaining because seriously, my kids rocked today. I know I have a lot of areas where I can improve as a teacher and a lot I can learn about teaching a class full of children with intellectual disabilities, but I think it is going to be a great year. 

It's about the kids

All weekend I've been a crazy nervous wreck about this upcoming week. It was my daughter's first birthday and even among the first birthday excitement I couldn't get myself to stop thinking about school. Yet as I worried and chewed on my finger nails and contemplated whether or not I was going to survive the year I realized something-

I was doing it again-

I was making it about ME and not about the kids.

Whenever I found myself getting truly nervous I realized I was thinking about myself. Does the principal respect me as a teacher? Last week when I said "x" and meant "y" and maybe he actually heard "I hate kids" ? Am I going to lose control of my class and the whole school will think I'm a terrible teacher? Will everything think I am lazy because I have to run out the doors to go pick up my daughter? Will the principal decide from watching me teach in a five minute block that I shouldn't ever be a teacher? Will I remember to turn in my emergency care cards in alphabetical order? Will I say the wrong thing to a parent and have the parent hate me from day one? Will I remember to smile at my coworkers or will my stress get the best of me and everyone will hate me? What if I make a mistake and no one will immediately judge me?

Ridiculous, I know, but I can't stop. The 'what ifs' and the trying to see how other people interpret my actions can eat me alive. Especially in a new place where everyone is trying to prove themselves.

Then, in the midst of all that 'what if' stress this weekend I found myself thinking about the kids I met last Thursday. Their smiles, their parents' smiles, their little faces, the fun we're going to have, and how I need to adapt and change the room for them. And in those thoughts- the thoughts about how I will actually do my job- I find myself calming down. My heart stops racing and I stop biting my nails and grinding my teeth. I start smiling at the thought of them coming into our room tomorrow. I find myself getting excited as I anticipate what we'll need to put in place to make everyone successful.

It's about the kids.

It's not about me and how others see me. It's not about whether or not the principal trusts me or thinks I'm a good teacher. It's not about whether or not I'll make mistakes. I will make mistakes. We all do. I will say things that can be interpreted two ways. I will feel self conscious and awkward. But none of that is important.

What's important are the five little friends who will enter my room tomorrow. The five families who are praying that their child will have a good year with a teacher who loves him/her. The five sets of eyes wondering what their year at their new school will be like.

It's about them.

I can't wait.

Balance?

One work day left until the first day of school and I'm trying not to panic. Since this is my first opening of the school year when I am a parent I feel like I'm a first year teacher again learning to balance it all. In the past I lived and breathed school for the first few weeks. I stayed late at work, got to work early, and when I was at home I frantically did paper and prep work.

Those options are out and I have no idea how I'm going to get it all done. I don't understand how it's possible to do this job working limited hours. I'm feeling disorganized and panicked- jobs are half-done, my to-do list grows longer by the minute and I keep thinking of all the things I've forgotten to do.

I met with parents today and listened to them talk about their babies and everything they want for them this school year. Their eyes teared up as they talked about what they were worried about, what they were excited about, and what they wanted for their children this school year. I listened to them and felt a sense of panic- can I give you want your child deserves while giving my own child what she needs? Is there time in the day to allow for that? 

How I feel. 

I honestly have no idea. I'm ridiculously excited about the school year but am equally nervous and frustrated in my need to sleep. 

Newness

Many times when I'm chatting with another teacher about my new school their eyes get big. "I am SO jealous!" they exclaim. "It must be heaven."

The assumption in education is that any new building must be nicer than an old one. In many ways that's true. Some public school buildings have been around since the 50s. They are old and falling apart and were built in a time with different priorities. Still, a brand new public school building is still a public school building. It's still built by a school system on a budget. I'm not complaining- the new building is nice- but it doesn't mean that crickets aren't chirping in the corners or that there isn't water dripping through the tiles. Things happen, even in new buildings.

A school is really built by whose inside it- the dedication of the teachers and the smiles of the students. When I student taught I was in a building in the midst of a renovation gone wrong. The classrooms had been stripped of any paint on the walls and the floors were cold concrete, the tiles pulled up long ago. The ceiling tiles were also non-existent and the kids could look up and see all the wiring in the ceiling. Yet because of the dedication and determination of the teachers it was still a school.

There are some downsides of a brand new building. For one, we don't have the furniture collection older schools have. At the think-tank we thought we didn't have enough book shelves. Ha! When everyone's been issued the exact same shelves and those shelves were bought with precise math of how many go into each classroom (no storage room to rummage through for the previous years' discarded shelves) we have what's in front of us to work with. Same with the book collection- classroom libraries, the book room- only contain one year's order of books. Everything is new, but it also means we don't have the surplus of books and supplies older schools have.

I don't mean to sound like I'm complaining because the new building is beautiful. The staff is amazing and the energy is palpable. But a new building isn't going to automatically make it a great school. It's not about the building itself, it's about what happens inside the building. Are teachers energized and dedicated? Are the students motivated? Do they feel safe?

*All that being said I'm going to take a moment to brag about my storage. OMG they are building new schools with CABINETS. I have so many cabinets I don't know what to put in them. Places to put materials away from the kids' little hands- meaning that what's on the shelves in the classroom can purely belong to the kids themselves. Staring at the empty cabinets trying to decide what to put in them makes me giddy, I'll admit.

Breathing, breathing, breathing, panic

On Thursday morning my aid and I smugly discussed how our room was pretty ready to go. We still needed to get things on the walls, but everything was organized, unpacked, and set up. We were in good shape.

Three hours later I was frantically scavenging for boxes to pack all of my things in.

Three hours after that our well-organized room had been hastily packed into boxes and piled into the middle of the now empty, no longer set-up classroom.

Eight hours later I woke up in a cold sweat thinking about all I have to go to get ready for September 4th, the smugness of Thursday morning mocking me. 

When we found out we could move rooms we were ridiculously excited (and still are). It puts our room right in the middle of the kindergarten and first grade rooms- the perfect place for a room with primarily kindergarten and first grade students. Our kids will easily be able to join their same-age peers and then come back to us when it's more appropriate for them to be in a self-contained setting. We'll be able to be a part of morning assemblies and whole class activities. We won't be finagling our way up and down the elevator multiple times a day. 

The new room is a huge relief. I hadn't even been letting myself think of how inconvenient the previous room was- I'm flexible and I'm willing to work with anything (almost). But the new room is 100% better for the kids.

Which is what I keep telling myself in my moments of utter panic when I think of all the things I have to do to re-set up the room. Today we don't have to be at school but daycare is open so I'd given myself a day to breath. I have a massive stack of books I planned on reading by the pool, uninterrupted. I had a craft project or two I hoped to get to. I announced to my husband that it was "Mrs. Lipstick Day" and I would not be using this day to do any chores- it was a celebration of being alone. "Mrs. Lipstick Day" will have to occur some other time... but that's OK. It's absolutely what is best for kids. In two weeks I won't be thinking about losing "Mrs. Lipstick Day", I'll be thinking about how great it is to have my kids right next door to their peers.

One day I'll have an organized room again...

We can do hard things!

Starting the year off with their full attention

This is the first picture my mother sent me from her new camera phone. To anyone else it is merely a creepy toad hiding in our backyard. To our family it is a sign that summer is ending and it's time to go back to school.

My mother is a second grade teacher. Every year, if possible, she scours our backyard in hopes of catching both a toad and a frog for her second graders. She doesn't keep them all year, but keeps them for the first bit of school to fully grab their attention. From there her beginning of the year builds itself. She can embed all her beginning of the year lessons among Frog and Toad read-alouds, discussions of comparing and contrasting the frog and toad, writing about frogs and toads, and discussions about how to take care of each other in the classroom (it can be easier for children to discuss how to take care of animals than how to take care of each other, then you help them generalize).

But let's be honest- the real edge the living, breathing frog and toad have in her room is that she teachers seven year olds. For a moment pretend you are seven. You just spent your first fantastic summer as an independent, curious, and capable child. You rode bikes, swam, played outside, got dirty, built forts, and had play dates where adults were not breathing down your back. It's over, and you're headed back to school to wait in lines, sit quietly, raise your hand, and read books when you'd really rather be using your new found seven year old independence.

Except...

You walk into your classroom to discover that your teacher has a frog. 

And a toad.

A real-live, disgusting toad. 

A cute, sleek frog.

The types of outdoor treasures your mother still didn't let you bring into the house even with your savvy seven year old ways.

And just like that, her students are hooked.

Although I am my mother's daughter I have never found myself following in her amphibian footsteps, even when she's offered to catch them for me. It involves making sure you have the food to feed them while you keep them in captivity, and, well, that's quite alright. But I love that she does it. 

It's the perfect reminder of how to start off the year on a good foot. We don't necessarily need to have pets in our classroom to start the year off this way. Reaching our students where they are- helping them feel comfortable in our classrooms and excited to be in school will go a long way in allowing us to create the classroom communities that will set the tone for the rest of the school year. We're competing with their summer breaks, with video games, swimming pools, the ice cream truck, new school clothes, and seeing their friends again. The beginning of the year is essential in building community with our students- even if it's merely having a welcoming and warm classroom, sending postcards to the children before they enter the school, or starting the year with stellar read-alouds, those first few teacher actions set the stage for all the amazing things that will happen in the coming months. 

*She got the phone in order to finally receive cute pictures of Baby Lipstick like the rest of the family. I sent her a few this morning in order to welcome her to the picture-texting family. This is what I got in return.

brotherly love

Not that we ever have favorites, but since I taught The Story Teller for 3 years in a row, he has a special place in my heart. Just reading over all my posts on him puts me in a better mood- his sincere honesty mixed with his vivid imagination and his good intentions can't help you do anything but adore him. This year I have one of his little brothers in my non-cat class.  The Story Teller is the oldest of 4 children, and all four of them showed up this afternoon to check out the youngest brother's classrooms during our open house.

The boys seemed excited to see me and my Partner-in-Crime. They quickly told us that they'd moved and in their new home they'd had both an earthquake and a hurricane. "Good thing that earthquake wasn't too big" the Story Teller told me, "All of Japan would have been gone."  When I mentioned we'd had an earthquake as well (he didn't really move that far away) he looked shocked. "You had one too?  Wow, what a big earthquake!" 

He then picked his two year old sister up and introduced us to her as "The princess of the family".

Although his mother told me that he talked about me non-stop for years, he didn't seem convinced that his little brother was going to be in good hands. As he pushed his brother toward me to introduce us he said, "Mrs. Lipstick, you're going to know, he doesn't talk. He needs a lot of help." He seemed skeptical that I already understood this and was prepared.

He took his brother into my room and found his name around the classroom, making sure his brother understood how comfortable he would be in the room. He was especially excited that his brother had two classrooms- one with me and one with my Partner-in-Crime. "No way! So lucky!" he repeated.

Later in the visit he told me, "I'm going to ask my teacher to let me come take care of my brother during recess. I'll make sure he's doing his job and I'll play with him the whole time." 

"You know what, Story Teller," I said, "I am going to take good care of your brother. You work hard in third grade and I'll work hard at taking care of your brother."

He gave me a skeptical look that only said, "Listen, woman, this is my brother we're talking about." Clearly no one is good enough for his little brother.

I already loved My Story Teller, but now I love him even more. I love that he is so kind, thoughtful, and concerned for his little brother who needs extra help. I love that he wanted to give up his recess time to come help him out. I love the honesty that showed in his face with his concerns for his little brother. He showed far more concern for his brother starting kindergarten than many of the kindergarten parents I met today. Perhaps because I was also a child was mistakenly thought I was my younger brothers' parent, I hold a special place in my heart for siblings who truly take on a care-giver role (in a non-bossy manner).  My new student is lucky to have such caring siblings. We'll just have to make sure they begin to understand how to help him become independent...
I'm excited for another year with the story telling family.

first day, take 1

The alarm went off this morning and I practically sprinted out of bed in excitement and nervous energy.  This morning is my first day with my class (kind of) and I absolutely cannot wait to meet them and to start getting routines in place.

This summer my school is running a "Jump Start" program. Students in grades 1st-5th were invited to come to school for 3 weeks this summer to get extra help in reading, writing, and math. Since the county no longer has summer school it's our way of meeting the needs for kids who would otherwise qualify for summer school (which is actually even more fabulous because typically you send kids off to summer school and don't know what happens to them. Now our teachers are working with these kids in summer school and are able to provide exactly what we know they need and track their progress from the summer to the school year).

Our lucky kinders are only invited to attend for 2 weeks instead of 3. We've invited as many children as we could who registered for kindergarten with  no preschool experience. These two weeks will give them a chance to learn to walk in the hallways, how to sit quietly on the rug and listen to a story, how to use playground equipment safetly with other children, and all those other school social norms that are difficult for children who have never had to participate in large group activities without their parents before.

One of the classes coming in, however, is my class. All ten of my future lovelies were invited, and today I think I could have as many as 8. This gives my students a chance to get to know routines and adjust to school before school actually starts. The days are only 3 hours long, which is probably the right amount of time for all of us (including me) to begin to warm up to each other. My long-term sub is co-teaching with me this week so that she gets to know the kids too. Once I'm gone she'll be a familiar face, and when I come back hopefully they'll still remember who I am.

So this morning is the first day of school, but only kind of. Only for 3 hours. I can make it. My entire lesson plans surround Responsive Classroom's the First Six Weeks of School, which normally goes well in a general education classroom. I hope I'm able to adapt quickly enough on the go to make it work for all the different needs in my classroom. I have no idea how these little ones will be able to sit on the rug and listen to me talk, or even how many of them will be able to use the materials I'll be introducing to them. If we do a guided discovery with crayons, but some of them cannot use crayons, hows that going to go.

Adapt, adapt, adapt, is going to be the name of the game.

Fingers crossed that everything goes smoothly and that we do not have any screamers, runners, throwers, or hitters. Hopefully I'll have the energy to blog tonight to let you know how it goes...

teacher whine. Ignore me, please.

I have spent the day in laminating hell. 

 If you teach special ed you are probably familiar with Board Maker, which is fabulous in many, many ways. It lets you create all sorts of picture icons for your students- all you  need to do is type in the word you want to say and it gives you a simple picture that corresponds with that word. It is great for creating reminder cards for the rules, making schedules for students, and creating individual behavior plans. It gives you lots of possibilities- however, many of these involve a lot of painful, tedious prep.

Last spring I observed a special ed teacher in a self-contained classroom who had individual schedules for each child. As the children moved through their day they took the laminated board maker icon off their schedule and placed it where they were moving to in the room. So if it was time for morning meeting there was a morning meeting icon on their schedule. When they went to morning meeting they took off the morning meeting picture and placed it on a board in the meeting area. I'd also seen this done in other special education classes and every teacher I knew that used it said it made it huge difference for their children. I decided it was exactly what I needed to do next year.

I just wasn't thinking about all the prep. Creating the icons in board maker was no big deal, then printing and cutting them out still wasn't so bad (I used a paper cutter, they are not perfectly cut, but since we're talking about 20+ pictures per child, for 10 children, I'm not worrying about perfection). Then I had to stand over the hot laminator feeding those small stupid squares into it. No matter how efficient you are at laminating, trying to feed 200 1 1/2 inch square pieces of paper is not something you can do overly quickly. Then, once everything has finally been laminated, you have to actually cut out each tiny little square. 

And the worst part? After everything is cut out I need to go through and cut out 200 pieces of velco and then smack those onto the back of each little square. Have you ever worked with sticky-backed velcro?  Peeling the adhesive off the velco isn't fun after 3 or 4 pieces- 200 is going to take me forever.

If you teach you know what I'm talking about. You're rolling your eyes and thinking, "Don't even complain, it's part of the job." 

 I actually have moved into the camp of "nothing needs to be laminated". Most things aren't worth the time. But for pieces of paper that will be handled everyday by kindergartners? There is no choice. Or there was, but the choice was to not create these schedules. Trust me, even at halfway through I'm weighing the options of just tossing in the towel on this project. But is it best for the kids? I think about my students' needs and how I've seen this work in other classrooms...  and it's back to cutting. 

The picture at the top does not do it justice- my basement is covered in a large roll of laminating sheet along with lots of tiny little pictures. After 2 hours of cutting I'm not even halfway through. And I can't think of a faster way to do it. At least it is a good excuse to watch trashy tv during the day. I'm not wasting away watching junk- I'm WORKING. 

A masters degree and one year into my doctorate, and I'm spending my time cutting small squares and peeling paper off sticky-back velcro. I swear I love my job. I really do. There is just something slightly demeaning about having my husband come home dressed professionally from his respectable office job to find me on the floor in the basement, surrounded to laminate and pictures of toilets, going cross-eyed from cutting out small pictures.

"Aren't you suppose to be on summer break?" he asked.  

No response. This is summer break. 

planning ahead...

I thought I would be following up on my last post all week but I've found myself lost in the world of making my long-term sub plans instead.  So far I've spent 3-4 hours a day trying to capture everything that my sub may need to know when she takes over for me in the fall, and I'm not even halfway done.  Next year I'm moving from pushing into all my classrooms (a full inclusion model) to having a non-categorical classroom.  I'll have 10 children throughout the day, 5 will be with me most of the day and then 5 will come and go depending on their IEP hours. They will all be in kindergarten or first grade and have a wide range of abilities. A few are non-verbal, some have experienced trauma in their early childhood which seems to have impacted their development, some may have autism (it is rare to get an official autism label this early), some have physical disabilities along with intellectual disabilities. Some are still being toilet trained and some need to be monitored while eating. All of them are awesome kids and I can't wait to work with them.

I am SO excited.

I got to meet all of the children in one way or another this year through doing preschool transitions. I've met their parents, consulted with their preschool teachers, and hung out with them during the school day for a bit.  Three of them I worked with at the think-tank this past year (yes, Magical is one of them!). I absolutely cannot wait to start this class and get to know them even better.

It's ironic, of course, that the year I get a non-cat class is the same year I will be out for a few months on maternity leave. I can't help but feel guilty- these are kids who need consistency and I'm throwing them for a loop. I have an awesome long-term sub and I want to make sure everything goes as smoothly as possible for her.

So I've started my maternity leave plans, wanting them to be as absolutely as helpful as possible. It's the beginning of the year, which is my favorite time of year, but also the time of year I think that is most important. I'm trying to be as detailed as possible with how to open the classroom, how to do guided discoveries, when to do them, how to create a community, how to step up rules, routines, etc. It helps that Responsive Classroom has so many great resources and that I can include The First Six Weeks of School as a reference, but it's still a lot to create.  (If you aren't familiar with The First Six Weeks of School check it out- it is a life savor not only in the beginning of the year but also in how it helps you set up a community that will remain all year).

Then there is the curriculum itself, the sequence of what to teach when, how to set up centers, what types of centers to use, when to start guided reading, etc. That of course is similar to the gen ed curriculum. Then I have to go through and adapt it to meet the needs of my kiddos- how to support each one of them with their particular needs in particular subjects.

And of course, there is the data collection. Each child has a long IEP with data that needs to be collected on how they are meeting their goals. I'm trying to make charts, anecdotal note sheets, and anything else that will make it easy for my sub & aid to track their progress. Not to mention leaving special notes on each of the 10 children- who needs to go to the bathroom when, who cannot eat anything in the classroom, who needs assistance on the bus, etc.

So far the task has been all-consuming and after I finish 4 hours of trying to predict what is best for the sub to know and all contingency plans.

The worst part is, the more time I spend with their IEPs and getting everything ready for their beginning of the year the more I just cannot wait to dive into the school year and get to know them all.  So far it seems like it is going to be an amazing classroom and I can't wait to work in it!  Of course, the time that Baby Lipstick appears I'm sure I'll be busy enough with other amazing tasks that will keep my mind off wanting to be in school.

home visits begin!

The line leader stood proudly in front of me, his hands in a "duck tail" behind his back (hands in a duck tail mean you can't touch all the tempting art work lining the hallway walls) and his cheeks blown into big bubbles (if your cheeks are making bubbles you can't talk), showing me how ready he was for the hall.  I gave him a thumbs up and he stood up a little straighter. Then his excitement got the best of him. leaning toward me he lost his bubbles as he whispered,
"You're coming to my house today"
I know we don't talk in line, but I was just as excited as he was.
"I am" I nod.
"My house is number 4." he says, holding up his fingers in case I misheard the number. "When you get to my neighborhood drive way, way, way to the back, the walk a few steps, then go up one flight of stairs and you'll find me!" he explained seriously, not wanting me to get lost. "Number 4, don't forget."
Then quickly, as soon as he finished his explanation he returned to his line-leader duck-tail and bubble status, continuing to be a role model.

That afternoon when we walked into his house he grinned with pride. He showed us his bed, his computer, his window. His little brother stood in the doorway and shouted "no go!" We caught up on middle school gossip with his older sister (middle school is hard!).

I adore home visits.  I love how excited the children are the day we are coming to their house. I love their faces when we walk in the door- a teacher, in their house, can you believe it?

I love chatting with their older brothers and sisters, seeing their special stuffed animals, sitting at their kitchen table listening to their parents share their baby stories and their concerns. I love hearing the loud voices of shy children- the ones who wont speak in school but at home shout, laugh, and chatter away. I love when we leave that we are followed by waves from the window- they watch us go until we are out of sight.

My partner-in-crime and I started conducting home visits last year, and it was such an incredible experience that we knew we had to continue this year. Even though we were both exhausted Thursday afternoon and the idea of holding two conferences in the evening filled us with dread, the minute we arrived at our first house all the stress was gone. I love this time of year.

Thursday we had 2 visits, tomorrow 3 more. We'll slowly check them off one by one as the fall goes along, seeing our children in another setting, beginning to understand why they come to school so tired (they sleep on the couch and there are 2 other families living in their one bedroom apartment), why they try to mother everyone in the class (their mother works and so at five years old they are in charge of babysitting their little brother and sister) or why they are so cuddly (from a wonderful cuddly family).

Friday morning my line-leader friend proudly walked into the classroom and gave me a thumbs-up sign. "You came to my house!" he announced as though I didn't already know that.
He walked a little straighter as he headed over to his seat- hopefully feeling that much more loved and comfortable in our classroom.

the relief of a good day

It wasn't until today ended and I was walking out of the building with a smile on my face that I realized what I've been lacking so far this school year: good days. It's sad to say but even though I've been loving my new kiddos and having fun in kindergarten, so far this year has been ridiculously stressful. Brainstorming how to help PJ, how to manage my schedule, how to balance meeting the needs of everyone on my case load, and just keeping up with paperwork has been overly taxing. The behavior specialist we've been working with keeps warning us about how draining one of our kiddos will be, but I don't think we've realized how true it is. Until today when for the first time I wasn't drained.
I left school excited to come back the next day.
PJ had a great day. No children left the building without permission. Jenny brought in Knuffle Bunny Free and I read all three Knuffle Bunny tales straight through to a small group of kiddos- it was pure magic. Pixie didn't quite understand the whole story, but I've never seen her so still for a read aloud- and this was three. Mo Willems is a genius.
PJ asked a child if he could share legos with her.
Pixie remembered two letters in her name.
I found time to get into one of my other classrooms today.
I was able to sprint out the door at the end of the day and buy another pair of comfy-sturdy-yet-cute shoes. I'm in love with this brand. Mom- I'm thinking Christmas- this in black, or this. I now own two pairs of the same shoe from this brand- one in black, one in brown.
I wore my brand new black shoes to class, where we met with our cohort to discuss our over all program. Then we got out early.
I practically skipped home.
Tomorrow may be another disaster, but at least I'll have the memory of today- I'll remember what it feels like to end the day on a positive note. And that will get us through.

BOOKS!!

Last year my partner-and-crime and I decided to try something new to open our classroom library. We wrapped up all our books in large boxes with fancy wrapping paper and let the kids open the "presents to the classroom". It was the most amazing activity I've ever done in school.

This year we repeated it and enjoyed every moment of their book discoveries. Some immediately settled down with books they wanted to read, ignoring all of their friends and teachers and diving straight into whatever world they'd chosen, while others poured through the titles and loudly announcing the types of books they found as though they were sports-casters"Letter books!" "Animal books!"

One little one sat down with Clifford and refused to get up unless it was for another Clifford book.

Eventually we had everyone put their books into baskets that went into our classroom library and we've slowly examined each basket of books more closely- dividing the library into "True Books" and "Story Books" (Oh, and one Clifford basket since we have one friend totally in love with the series).

Since that day anytime someone mentions 'books' or 'reading' the whole class seems to become energized- when we give them time to browse books they devour the basket in front of them like we've given them the ice cream truck. I love the energy and excitement this lesson creates!

new shoes

I just got back from buying new back to school shoes. The first ones I bought, while cute, comfy, and flat, clearly are not going to cut it this year. I realized halfway through the day that I now need to own cute, comfy dress-like shoes that will also act just like running shoes when I need to run at a moment's notice. After checking out a fabulous co-worker's shoes from REI I headed over there to buy the kind of shoes I could hike a mountain in and still look like I'm a professional you'd trust with your child. I'm spending the next two days being trained in the proper way to restrain children safely (if they must be restrained due to safety), and I figured I might as well practice this training in my new sporty shoes.

This realization came about today when my partner-in-crime and I realized we'd been blocked into our room. Our friend had quickly left the room and threw his body against our door so we couldn't get out. It was kind of incredible. He stared into the room at us angrily, watching our every move, occasionally shaking the door knob to remind us he has the power. The amazing thing was- other than the fact we felt like idiots for being "locked in" by a six year old, it was great- because he was staring at us through the window of the door we knew exactly where he was and what he was doing. He was so focused on keeping us inside the room (we weren't pushing the door to get out, we just kept on doing what we were doing) that we knew he was occupied. He wasn't hurting himself or anyone else- he was just using his force to keep us in the room. All in all he could have chosen worse ways to show us his anger.

Still, if everyday is as exciting as this one I may need new comfy-sturdy shoes in every color.

The power of the thumbs up

The last week and a half I've felt like I've walked straight out of a 70s movie poster. Or maybe cheesier than that. A Japanese infomercial perhaps? I can't go 5 minutes without giving someone a thumbs up. A kid catches my eye while they happen to be sitting criss cross apple sauce? Thumbs up. I walk past a line of well-ordered kindergartners? Thumbs up. Pixie remembers to raise her hand? Two thumbs up. My thumbs are getting tired and I'm 100% aware of just how goofy I look all day, everyday.

But it doesn't matter. The thumbs up is magic because it silently lets the kids know that I'm watching them, that I know they're doing a good job, and that I appreciate it. It's almost like that child and I have a special secret when they see my thumbs up directed at them. They always smile and then almost exaggerate the behavior they were doing well- stand up straighter, pinch their lips together to prove how silent they can sit, or visibly place their hands in their lap. All that and I don't even have to say anything.

It's especially powerful this year. My partner-in-crime and I have a special friend who is learning to follow the rules a little slower than everyone else. While he blatantly disregards what the class is doing the kids tend to look at us with confusion- why does he get to play with blocks right now and we don't? All those confused eyes need is one thumbs up and they smile and return to the lesson- Yes, I know he's not doing his job, but I know you're doing yours, and it's awesome, my thumb seems to say.

It's amazing how those silent, non-verbal cues can be so simple but so powerful.