Promises to Parents

After my series of Saturday home visits this fall I've been struck by the former school experiences of all my families. They have so much to tell me- so many disappointments or frustrations, so many times they've been disillusioned by our school system.

In order to be in our program for students with Intellectual Disabilities the IEP team must decide that the least restrictive environment is a different program that the neighborhood school can provide. It's not a decision that should be taken lightly by any team, and one that many times is come to after the neighborhood school and the student have proven to not be a good match.

The stories are heartbreaking from a parent perspective. In many of them the school did nothing wrong, but the situations were still not ideal. I cannot imagine how it must feel as a parent to hear that your neighborhood school- the one you watch all the other kids in your neighborhood come and go from happily- is unable to meet your child's needs. Stories of teachers admitting they don't have the answers- of frustrated parents wondering what's happening when they are not around- of students trying to fit into a situation where they do not feel comfortable.

Most of these are situations where no one did anything wrong. No one is at fault. It's not lazy teachers or bad administrators or overly demanding parents. The situations just are what they are. Families try the neighborhood schools first. It's how IDEA, the federal special education law is written- the least restrictive environment should always be in place, and many times in order to determine that environment a student has to try being at their neighborhood school in the general education population first.

My heart breaks for these parents and their stories. It's also terrifying as a teacher. I want to give my families the most positive school experience possible. I want them to have that happy, confident child who comes off the bus bursting with achievements to share and stories to tell. I want to communicate all their children's strengths while also being completely honest about their growth areas. 

Saturday morning home visits

As I walk up the steps of the building I can see the little heads peaking out the windows, hands waving with excitement at the idea of a teacher coming into the neighborhood- the building- the house. The head disappears from the window as I knock on the door. My knock is followed by a long pause- did they hear me, I wonder, as I hear whispers and what sounds like last minute cleaning. Something bumps the door on the other side- children fighting to peek through the peep hole. I try to smile, not knowing who is watching me.

The door opens and I'm greeted by the extended family. A tour of the main room- the child's baby pictures displayed proudly on the walls, art work from previous years taped up with pride. Notes from previous teachers stuck to the refrigerator. This is a family proud of their child.

We laugh, all of us- the parents, the child, the cousins, the uncles, the aunts. Someone translates for those who don't speak English, even if it means calling a relative to translate by speaker phone. We talk about how the year is going, how proud of the child we are, our shared hopes and dreams for the child. I listen as I hear their fears, their dreams, their concerns. I promise to try my hardest to make those dreams happen, to prevent those fears from coming true.

We high five and hug, laugh some more and promise to see each other Monday.

I leave the building with little heads peeking out at windows watching me walk away just as they watched me walk in.

I get into my car on a home-visit high and drive home to my own family, my daughter waiting for me to cuddle and play with her. I can't think of a better way to spend a Saturday morning.

Parent Involvement- Getting parents in the door

Parents who come from all over the world bring a different sort of expectation and understanding of how schools work. For some, culturally they are not accustomed to being invited into school and feel that discussions with the teacher would come across as accusatory or insulting- as though they were questioning the teacher's ability to perform the job. Others truly don't have a cultural background for understanding that it is a team effort- in their countries the teacher is responsible for all learning- so they do not understand that we want them to read and do homework with their child. They are not against this concept, we just need to communicate our expectations. Some parents see school are scary places they are completely unfamiliar with since they never went to school themselves in this country. For others we are fighting years and years of schools being seen as untrustworthy and 'the enemy'. Somehow we have to form a team with each and every one of these parents.

I've found that one of the best ways to start forming this team (other than home visits) is to get parents into the classroom to see their children in action. When I was a classroom teacher I held our largest writing celebration of the year right at the end of the first month of school. We published our books, baked cupcakes, made invitations, put out table cloths and fresh flowers and fancied everything up. Not only did it set the tone for writing workshop for the rest of the year (writing is IMPORTANT and we are WRITERS) but it brought parents into the classroom to see us hard at work early on. When parents come into school to see their children perform, whether reading, writing, or in a play, they usually are more comfortable than when they are coming into school for conferences. Their reason behind coming into the school is different- they are less likely to feel stressed because they do not speak English. Everyone gets an opportunity to gaze at the children and their hard work without having to worry about difficult conversations.

The Think-Tank has a dance night every year. The PE and Music teachers put on an amazing show. We all meet over at the high school's gym on a Friday night to watch all the grade levels perform the dances they've been working on in PE and Music for the past month. It's amazing and one of my favorite nights ever, but what I've noticed after years of attending is that parents who never, ever come to school for anything else will come to dance night. Parents who never show up to conferences, who do not return written notes or phone calls, who put their child on the bus and never enter the door of our school- they come to dance night. It's the best possible night to make contact with parents.

Another thing I've noticed over the years is that parents from other countries are more likely to come to events if they can bring food. I think it's from feeling as though they otherwise have nothing to offer. They can't even communicate in English with their child's teacher and so coming in the door to the school is like a reminder of what they can't do (in their minds, not in ours). But when they are asked to bring food from their country they often flock through the doors in droves. Food from their country is something they can finally offer us. It is something they are good at, something they specialize in, and something we are not experts in.

Another aspect of parent behavior I've noticed is that they are more likely to come to whole-school events. Many of the parents I've worked with do not have transportation, but if it is a whole school event and they can catch a ride with their neighbor they will come to see their child in action. It feels safer to go anywhere with a friend, particularly if you do not speak the language or are in a new situation. The Think-Tank had a school-wide writing celebration every year. Because it was school-wide the parents came in droves- they could walk over together, carpool, and chat to each other in their native languages about what was going on, where to go, and how it went. It felt safer.

Once we get parents in the doors- through putting their children on stage, in writing celebrations, dances, or class picnics, we can start to form those relationships that will open the door for further collaboration.

Parent Involvement- Meeting parents where they are

From my experience the best way I've found to reach out to resistant parents is to meet them where they are. Appreciating the fear and anxiety that coming to school can cause for parents I've seen that home visits, coming to their children's birthday parties, running into them at kiss-and-ride and talking to them about things other than their children's progress can begin to build a relationship you can build on.


When I was a first grade classroom teacher I had a child whose mother hated me. She hated all teachers and I'd heard stories about how she abused the kindergarten teacher. When her child was in my room she refused to call me by my name, but instead by the kinder teacher's name (who she'd refused to call by the correct name when she was in the class). Then one day I ran into her in the grocery store. It wasn't anywhere near my school- it was near my house where I never saw parents. I was buying beer. Not just a little bit, but a big case of beer. As I got into line with my arms filled with the massive case I saw her and wanted to run. 'She can't see me like this!' I immediately thought. But before I could hide she saw me and immediately got the biggest smile on her face. She rushed over to me and greeted me with kisses on both cheeks. She didn't speak English so we couldn't have a conversation, but the next day she wrote me a note in Spanish that was addressed to me- with my real name. Seeing that I was human changed her perception of me. After that we had a great relationship, and the following year she didn't abuse the second grade teacher. 


Clearly no book or any seasoned teacher would recommend buying beer with a parent, and it wasn't a situation that could be planned. But it was a great reminder that some parents need to be reminded that we are human. 


Many times it is little things that make a difference. I usually like to look professional for my meetings with parents, particularly for IEP meetings. I have suit jackets and nice skirts. I want to send the message that I take their child's education very seriously. But I've learned that with some parents it's too much. It can send the message that I'm on a high platform and can't relate to their needs. With one parent my relationship totally changed once I started wearing jeans to our meetings. 


Home visits allow you to literally meet parents where they are, and can make all the difference. Of course there are families that would rather not have you visit, and it's important to respect and understand that as well. Home visits are time consuming but pay out for the rest of the year. Many times you get a much greater sense of the family dynamics and where the entire family is coming from. It opens the door to relating with parents at a whole new level.

One of my favorite ways to connect with parents is through birthday parties. Not many of the children I teach have birthday parties where they invite their friends, but I make it a rule to always go to them if I am available and am invited. I had one parent who avoided me like the plague, and would suddenly have bad phone reception whenever she happened to pick up and I was on the other end. I went to her child's birthday and as we talked about the craft projects she had around the house she slowly melted. When I left she followed me out onto the sidewalk and yelled across the parking lot that she wanted to come in and meet with me.


Some parents are intimidated by schools, particularly if they are not originally from America. Parents who cannot read in their native language are going to be even more hesitant to come in and meet with us, even when we offer a translator. Some parents might not have been able to go to school themselves in their native countries for various reasons. I know many of the parents I've worked with who are from El Salvador were kept from school because of their civil war. Unsure of how to act in a school and having no background experience to pull from, these parents avoid school. It's our job to help them feel comfortable and open the path for encouraging school participation. 


We have to break down the nervousness and intimidation the parents feel toward school and the system. We need to send the message that we want them to be a part of their children's school experience, and that we are not judging them. And sometimes we have to be creative in order to do that. 

By the numbers

Every year the Annie E. Casey Foundation publishes it's Kids Count data book, showing the trends in child-well being across the US. If you work with children in poverty, or make decisions that will effect children who live in poverty, it's worth looking at the data to get a sense of where we are as a nation.

This year the data compares 2010 to 2005, and it's not pretty. Not surprisingly it shows that more children live in poverty in the US than in 2005 (22%), more children live in households where parents do not have secure employment, and more children live in households with a high housing cost burden.

What does that mean for us as teachers? Although we wish we could, we can't give every parent a job, we can't single handedly pull our children out of poverty, and we can't guarantee that their families won't worry about their housing situations.

What we can do is be aware of what our families are going through. When a family is worried about losing their house, providing food for their children, or just getting by on a day to day basis their concerns are not going to meet up with our concerns. When we wonder why they won't come in for a conference, we wonder why homework doesn't get completed, papers aren't returned, or and phone calls aren't answered it's easy to let our frustration get the best of us.

Don't they know how hard we're working to teach their children? Don't they know everything else we could be doing with our lives that doesn't exist making no money in a job where nobody appreciates us, our friends tell us our job is cute, and the national media portrays us as lazy, incompetent, and only in it for the summer vacations? Why won't anyone just call us back? We're concerned about your child!

With that 100th unanswered phone call or conference where we've been stood up we've all thought that. It's frustrating. We've got to remember that our parents are embarrassed and scared. Embarrassed to tell their employers that they need to take off work yet again for a conference. Scared they will be fired and everything that will mean. Embarrassed to tell us that they can't take off work to meet with us. Embarrassed because of all the other things they have going on in their lives hearing that their child is having a rough time reading or behaving isn't a huge priority right now. They want their child to succeed and they want their child to behave, but when you're worried about feeding and clothing your children, keeping them safe, keeping a roof over their heads, keeping your job, making sure everyone is healthy and clean, some things start to lose their significance in the long line of other truly important priorities. How does coming in for a conference about Johnny calling out all the time stack up to getting food for dinner?

We can look at ways we can meet our families' needs, we can phrase questions so that we are respectful of their situations while still getting our message across, we can find creative ways to meet with busy, stressed parents.

Magical & the Baby*

On Wednesday Partner-in-Crime, Baby Lipstick and I all headed out to go to Magical's house to see if he would join us for the open library hours at school. Sadly his medicine requires him to stay inside his house so we weren't able to take him to the library but we were able to hang out for a bit, catch up and read some books.

The minute I walked in holding Baby Lipstick he yelled, "I told you not to bring it!"

Poor Magical. He had told me exactly that. Every time I told him I was going to bring my baby to his house, even before she was born, he told me "I don't think so". By the end of the school year he was tired of my teasing and no longer felt the need to be polite. "No!" he'd yell rather loudly whenever I brought up the subject.

So I knew I was bringing BL into a mine-field. Especially since she was late for her afternoon nap and I was pretty sure that if Magical yelled at her she'd start crying, which in turn would make him cry and/or yell louder. (Seriously, what was I thinking??)

 All things considered the visit actually went very well. Magical had moments where he seemed to enjoy her as long as they were not touching. I put her foot against his so we could look at longer/shorter (shameful, I know, still trying to teach curriculum in the summer). "It's touching me!" he yelled, yanking his foot away.

Baby L did surprisingly well. I've never really thought anything of the "expose them to things in the womb so they'll be comfortable with those things when they come out". She'd spent hours at his house when she was in the womb and it was almost as though you could tell it on Wednesday. She relaxed in his mother's arms and seemed completely comfortable despite her previous crankiness.

I have a great picture of them sitting on the couch together, far apart so that she wouldn't touch him. He was happy to show her his toys and his scooter as long as 1) she didn't touch anything he owned and 2) his mother did not kiss her. We knew it was time to go when his mother asked if Baby L could spend the night and Magical just about cried.

It was fairly selfish of me to bring Baby L to his house, but how could I not want to have two of my favorite little people in one place?

*I should start writing a series of children's books about Magical and his adventures- Magical and the baby, Magical and his stroller, Magical and the swings. They'd be amazing!

magic wand #2: home/school connection

In Boston I sat in on numerous sessions presenting research on stress, childhood temperament, the effects of poverty on children's brain, and the importance of the home school connection.  Once again I couldn't help but think that we're on the right track at the think-tank.

I started to summarize some of the information on the impact of poverty on kids but it's too depressing. I'll save it for another time. Research continues to find exactly what we know- children raised in poverty have so many aspects of their lives working against them that they tend to show less achievement in schools. 

I know that in the education field we're not suppose to use this as an excuse, and I'm not arguing that we should- but I do think we need to realize what our kiddos are up against so we can help them fight it. Sure, some kids are resilient even in low socio-economic situations, but we want all kids to be resilient. We have the ability to help the non-resilient kids become more resilient.

One study out of Boston called City Connects brought a parent liaison into the schools- someone to be the connection between the teachers and the parents, encouraging the parents to come in, helping the teachers address the children's strengths and needs when talking to the parents, and supporting the parents with their school needs.

From what was presented to us (I haven't read the actual study) the results were astounding. Parents feel less stressed and feel supported in the school. This of course immediately carries over to the attitudes in the home- parents who are less stressed are more likely to take time to play with their children. SO, parents who feel more supported in school are more likely to show an increase in emotional support given to their children, and an increase in cognitive stimulation. (I'm taking this information from the slides presented at the conference and my notes. The studies cited in the slides is: Dearing, 2004, Dearing, 2008, Dunst, 2010)

The study also found that parents who spend time in high-quality schools pick up on good parenting techniques and begin parenting better. 

The study found that schools with a parent liaison had students with higher grades, higher test scores, better work habits and better behavior. 

We have something very similar at the think-tank. We have a staffed parent center where parents can come in, use the computers, get help filling out forms, have someone listen to their concerns, help them navigate the school system, and help them connect with teachers. We do programs (I've written about them before) directed at teaching parents about the best way to support their child's learning. This year we're tailoring a series of programs to specially meet the needs of kindergarten parents. 

To me, the parent center is one of the most important aspects of our school and it was great to see that a similar program, directly connected with research, is proving that it works. 

Beyond the parent center though there are so many ways to bring parents in. I highly recommend checking out the Responsive Classroom book on connecting with parents (I can't remember what it is called right now) as well as Ruby Payne's book on bringing parents into school. Both of these may not be considered research based, but now that we have research that shows connecting with parents works, we know why both these books work so well. 

the magical stroller

I have a very special friend this year who has a magical stroller.

 Yes, you read that correctly.

A stroller.

That is magically.

Does this not sound like the beginning of an amazing children's book?  But no, it is not a work of fiction. We have a friend with a magical stroller. Like Calvin and Hobbs, but instead of a tiger Hobbs has wheels, a seat, and handle bars.

We were first introduced to the stroller at our open house. We were a bit concerned that a five year old was still using a stroller, but when he explained he needed to bring it to open house with him because it talked to him and told him things we stopped asking questions. Sometimes it doesn't help to question.

When his mother comes pick him up on afternoons when the weather is exceptionally nice, she sometimes brings the stroller with her. Our friend doesn't get into the stroller, but he pushes it home, talking to it as he goes. Who knows what special tidbits he's sharing with the stroller from his day, or, what adventures the stroller is sharing with him.

At our home visit a few weeks ago we asked what sorts of toys he likes to play with and his mother laughed, "Oh, his favorite" she explained, "is his stroller".
He immediately ran and got it for us. And then, right there, his stroller became a vacuum cleaner. He starting vacuuming the rug, but suddenly his vacuum broke. So he had to unplug it from the wall, turn it over, investigate the inner workings, get a screw driver, fiddle with some things, turn it back up right, plug it back into the wall, turn it on to test it, and then fix it again, all the while narrating his vacuum adventures with expression and concern that it may never be fixed. Finally he plugged it back into the wall and it worked! He cheered, we cheered, and we watched as he vacuumed the rest of his apartment.

The entire experience was incredible. Throughout his whole stroller/vacuum interactions we continued with the conference, fully aware that a full-out drama was being performed in front of us, yet also fully aware that it was certainly not for our benefit. He barely looked at us as he went about cleaning the floors, clearly this was a typically afternoon play scheme for him.

I've got to admit, as far as magical toys go, a stroller is pretty great. Not quite as comfy to cuddle with as a stuffed bear, or as easy to transport like a small blankey,  but it really does open the imagination to so many more possibilities.  I'm kind of jealous I didn't have a magical stroller when I was a kid...

inside

Yesterday we sat on metal folding chairs inside one of our student's homes. The children bounced between beds, giggling with glee that teachers were there, in their home. The mother sat on the smallest bed, closest to the chairs, where she could ask us questions through an interpreter about her concerns for her child in kindergarten.

The room we sat in was full of love, with the children's photographs on the wall along with religious icons. It was spotless, toys stored neatly under the bed, teddy bears waited on a shelf to be hugged, and table tops were clear of clutter. Important school notices were pinned to the wall right by the door, including the note reminding them of our conference. The family even offered us bottled water as we chatted about important kindergarten conference details. (It's incredible all we try to cover in a kindergarten conference- we're introducing parents to the entire public education system, setting the tone for their next 13 years, while covering curriculum, behavior, and the importance of potty training/teaching your child to feed themselves/creating independence.)

The conference was wonderful and when we were done the mother followed us out the door of the room they rented, through the dark, dirty common space they shared with another family, and to the door to the outside. 

And now we know. 

We know why our friend is wide-eyed when shown new manipulatives, we've seen how little he has. We understand his energy level, his need for his own space, his tiredness, and how overwhelmed he's been these first 9 weeks of kindergarten. Adjusting to life outside of the four walls of your small, secluded room you share with your entire family is difficult. Especially if inside your room you only speak one language, and in school you spend 7 hours listening to another. 

All night I thought about that room. Inside was love, cleanliness, order, and life. Yet, it was one room, four walls.

 This was not the first child we visited who shared an apartment. In fact, in most of our visits we see many other people coming and going from the houses. Many times our children do not know the names of the people who live with them. Once, we arrived at an apartment and asked the two teenagers who opened the door if our student and her mother were there. They had no idea who we were talking about and had to go into a back bedroom to find out the names of the girls they shared an apartment with. These visits always stay with me, yet something about sitting in a close circle on the folding chairs in a back room is haunting me this week. There's so much potential for the family. So much hope that can come from the people inside that room. 

We have 10 months. If we can teach the children to read, write, count, add, and subtract, speak English, share, take turns, get along with others, set goals and work to meet them, plan ahead, follow directions, and show delayed gratification we'll be setting them out on the right track. And now, we teach our hearts out. 

I do love my job!

This afternoon I feel like Dorothy clicking her heels together saying "There's no place like home!" 

I do love my job, I do love my job, I do love my job!- it just took a few weeks to remember why...

The dreariness of this morning was soon overtaken by the excited nature of kindergartens.  PJ and I sat side by side and read "Pigs Make Me Sneeze" by Mo Willems. He did all the sound effects, acted out every sneeze and facial gesture, and giggled through Gerald's terrible fears that he was allergic to his best friend.

I love my job.

Pixie and I worked on three of the letters in her name by bowling for them today, and any time with Pixie is always an adventure.

I sat with another friend to begin guided reading and felt myself giddy as I watched him fill with pride for his reading skills- he carefully examined the first letter of each word, checked the picture and then said the word to be sure he was right- everything we want beginning readers to do. "Silly pig" he laughed as we read about Gilbert the Pig rolling in the mud.

I love my job.

I sat in writing workshop and listened to one little boy seriously tell me his story over and over again (something we've taught them to do) using expression and details.  My friend who last year drew nothing but squiggles drew pictures and labeled them "Baby play" she said, distinctly.  Then repeated it for me later. "Baby play".  She leaned up against me and giggled, telling me her story in her limited speech, over and over, just like she was a typically developing student.

I love my job.

This afternoon my partner in crime and I headed over to Amazing's house to hear about her new adventures in first grade at her new school. We listened as she regailed us of the crazy tales of Amelia Badelia and those antics she pulls all the time, and giggled right along with her at how she dressed the turkey and drew the drapes. Amazing loves her new school, is sitting up straighter, speaking louder, and is 100% a grown-up first grader now. It was wonderful to see how she's grown and changed. I hope we'll keep in touch with her for a long time.

Our awesome assistant principal did have PJ with her for a good 3/4 of the day, which may have played a part in the ease and delight of the day, but nonetheless, for a rainy day it turned into exactly what I needed to remember why I teach.  I really do have the best job in the world.

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.

pure happiness

we are sitting side by side on the couch, shoulders and elbows touching as we lean over the book. we're taking turns reading- me, the hard words like 'would' and 'could', big sister the easy words like 'sam i am' and 'not eat them with a mouse', little sister the repetitive words 'i could not, would not in a house'.

we examine the pictures, search for the mouse, giggle over silly sam, and awe over little sister's ability to predict that sam WILL eat the green eggs and ham.

the conference is over and mom looks at us, sighing, letting me know it is time to go. the girls stand up silently as well, hugging the dr. suess books to their chests as though they are cuddling with a teddy bear. i find myself wanting to do the same, but i can't- i'm the adult.

goodbye! thank you for having us! we say, and my partner-in-crime and i head out the door of the apartment. the girls quietly wave behind us- shy waves compared to the excited shouts when we first entered their house. now we've seen their baby pictures hanging on the wall, the framed certificates from school- perfect attendance awards, 'pledge of allegiance' award, completing head-start awards, proudly displaying their accomplishments. we've seen the family photo featuring family members they no longer live with. we watched big brother literally climb up the wall to impress us.

they are a family we have known for years- girls i have been teaching one after another for three years straight now. girls we've spent sleepless nights wondering if they were going to be ok, girls we've bought christmas presents for under the secret name of 'santa'.

for a few moments we were bound together as readers in a way only true readers can be- cuddled over a book, whispering, and giggling, the rhyming words dancing between us to entwine the story around us.

it was magic. i am so grateful for that moment.

i got back into my car in new, renewed spirits.

this job isn't about the list of possible budget cuts sent to us today by the superintendent. it's not about the report cards and progress reports we're all desperately finishing up. it's not about the brilliant, perfect lessons. it's not about immaculate classrooms, expert teaching strategies, making ayp, or how much we can teach in a few weeks. it's not about us. it's about the children. it's about giving them the gift of reading, the gift of loving reading, the gift that knowing they are important, special people who belong here in this world.

the sisters may not remember our shared reading experience in a year, but it is a moment i will carry with me for a long time- the reaffirmation that i really do have the best job in the world.

fat and smelly teacher

there are a million positive aspects of home visits. i'm loving almost every minute of them, and am learning so much about my little ones and their families. so far i have two downsides:

1) taking off my shoes. after a long day of teaching in cute flats my feet leave something to be desired. so every time we walk into someone's house and i realize it is culturally appropriate to take my shoes off my stomach drops. i'm imagining the conference interrupted by a "what's that smell?" from my kid. or worse, their parent. i spent the whole time thinking about my feet.

2) eating. don't get me wrong- i LOVE eating. and i love eating ethnic food. i'm not a picky eater, and i'll try almost anything. but at the moment, because i love eating so much, i'm trying to keep track of my calories. of course, when food is set in front of you and you are directed to "eat all of it, please we made it special for you", or you are handed a glass of liquid and are told this is the student's favorite juice from japan- you have no choice- you dig in. "mmmmm, delicious. what is this?" you ask, only to be given the name in the native language. which is great and exciting except that i have no idea how many calories i am consuming from being polite. stealing a glance at the wrapper doesn't help because it's all in a different language. (and ultimately this means i don't know if it means i have enough calories left to have a glass of wine at the end of the day- which is the biggest problem) i have no idea what i drank a few hours ago.

of course everything else about home visits has been wonderful, and really, it is so sweet when families offer food that i can't complain at all. it's totally worth the extra calories, even when fabulous friend pushed corn puffs into the top of the corn muffins her sister had given us. there is nothing like a five year old tea-party.

but really, if these are my two biggest complains- it just goes to show that i really do have the best job in the world.

home visits

this year my partner-in-crime decided she wanted to do home visits instead of conferences. i LOVE this idea and am planning on accompanying her to all of our little ones' homes. two third grade teachers at our school have been doing home visits for years, and every year we've been jealous of how much they learn about their students from the experience.

last week we looked at the schedule we have ahead of us for the next few weeks and became a bit overwhelmed. we'll be putting in some late nights after long days of teaching. what were we thinking? we tried not to ask ourselves as we settled in with our decision. we've committed for this year- let's see how it goes.

our first visit was last thursday night in an apartment complex near our school. we nervously approached the door, not knowing what to really expect from the next 20 minutes.

the minute the door opened we could see the children's artwork covering the walls of the apartment. the morning messages she'd taken home from headstart hung on the living room walls- at perfect five-year-old eye level so she has easy re-reading access. her handmade picture frame from headstart hung on the wall behind the table. this is clearly a home where the children are an important part of the family.

as we talked the parents told us about the arts and craft area they'd set up in the pantry where their little kindergarten student could work on whatever projects she wanted to try. an art easel sat on the balcony where she could go to paint.

i got so much out of this short visit. nothing made me happier than seeing the home where this little one is clearly nurtured, loved, and encouraged to explore her five year old passions. i wish i could give all of my five and six year olds this nurturing home life.

(not to mention i am totally stealing the idea of turning my bottom pantry shelves into an arts and crafts studio when i have my own kids. what a great way to keep the children busy and near you while you cook!)

we left their apartment with new found energy despite the fact it was late thursday evening and it had been a long week. now i can't wait for next week's visits!