the past 4 days

How is it possible that 4 days can seem like a lifetime?

Two weeks ago I was following blog posts about the LA teacher evaluations and the Value Added debate with enthusiasm. I was spouting off statistics to friends and debating the principals of teacher evaluations with anyone who would listen.

And then, summer ended, and suddenly none of that matters anymore. I can no longer wrap my mind around caring one way or the other about the LA test scores- I'm worried about transitioning four year olds accustom to running and playing all day into five year olds ready to sit and learn. I'm tying shoes, praising students every two minutes for sitting quietly, developing new behavior plans, noting which students are wearing the same clothes every day, which students bring enough to eat, which students have bruises and which students already know their alphabet.

It's been a long, exhausting, wonderful week.

Every morning during the first week of school I begin by helping kindergarten students from their cars, buses, or from their parents hands and leading them into the gym to find their teacher. As kindergarten students pile out of cars we corral them into a small area and then lead them together down the hallway- each one clinging onto a part of my body- if my hands are taken they grab my elbows or my wrists. As though we are playing kindergarten blog tag we pick up more as we walk down the long hallway, adding timid or excited faces to our pack. Eventually we get to the gym where I ask each child their name, which usually, no one can tell me. I ask them their teacher's name, and nobody knows that either. So we walk down the front of the gym until they spy their teacher- their eyes light up and they run from me straight toward the woman they've slowly been identifying as their mom away from home.

All week I'm amazed at how many children do not know their last names. They might be too nervous to tell me what their first names are, but even the most outgoing kindergarten students cannot tell me their last names.

Finally, once all the buses are in, the cars have pulled away and parents have walked home, we lead our kindergarten students down the hallways to our classrooms, where we then spend the next few hours attempting to model the rules and routines we're going to be following the next 180 days.

Most of these children have no school experience, have never been away from home for more than a few hours at a time, and are not yet experienced in following group social norms and listening to group rules. The first few days are painful as we break them into these expectations. Yes, when we said sit down we meant you too. I know there is a box of beautiful blocks over in the corner but right now we are sitting down. All of us. You too. Now.

Sharing is tough. Waiting is hard. Walking slowly in a line while 1) not talking and 2) not touching the walls- torture. For the kids and for us. I think I've been in bed by 9 every night this week.

I don't think I could manage the opening of kindergarten without Responsive Classroom principals. Guided discoveries for every thing we use- pencils, crayons, markers, paper. Slowly teaching expectations of how to use our supplies.

As a school we're adjusting to our new calendar. We're use to having a full month of school under our belts by September- instead we're realizing just how much our children lost over the summer. The first day our lunch line ran 40 minutes behind because the older children could not remember their lunch numbers. If they could not remember their 3-4 digit lunch numbers they punch into a key pad every single day in order to get food- what else will they not be able to remember? It is not a good sign. I've already had one teacher come to me wanting to know why on earth a child tested at __ level last year because she is far below that now. Yeah. It was a long summer and I'm sure she wasn't reading. I think we're going to have a lot of that as we get to know our new students as learners.

In a lot of ways it's been a wonderful week. Pixie starts everyday by giving each teacher in her classroom a hug. She can't settle down until she's hugged each of us. The little one who cheered with delight when we went on a bear hunt. (Pixie however did not want to go on a bear hunt. "That's not safe!" she whispered to me, frantically, when my partner in crime announced our bear-hunt intentions). The ones who are already producing a long list of wonders about our class pet, Happy the Frog. ("Does she need a bed? How does she sleep?") The little ones who have already found friends and walk with their arms around each other whenever they can.

It will be a great year. It will be an exciting, eventful year and I can already tell I will add to my special education skills and knowledge. Last year I was bored, this year I will not be bored one bit. But it will be good~ I'll learn, they'll learn, and hopefully, if nothing else, we'll laugh a lot.

ok, that's enough

I've hit a wall.
I'm finished.
Done.
Put a fork in me.

In the past this would be my last day of summer. Tomorrow would (should) be the first day of teacher work week. I should be meeting my kids in 2 weeks.

Even last Wednesday I was saying that I was thankful for this long summer. I had so many projects to do that I was excited to have the whole month of August. Wasn't it glorious, this long summer?

Then Thursday came. I'm not sure what happened, but somewhere during Thursday I lost my summer love. Maybe it was the heat, or walking past an office supply store and checking out all the school supplies, or the fact that I've broken all the needles on my sewing machine, read every book on my summer list, spent an afternoon at every museum exhibit in the city, given way too much of my hard-earned money to the nice folks at Borders, Barnes and Noble, and Ann Taylor Loft, and spent beyond too much time at the pool. By the time Mr. Lipstick came home I was rocking in a corner with boredom.

I have to go back to work.

This forced vacation is utterly unfair. If I don't teach someone to read soon, I may throw myself off the balcony. That, or my cat may just learn her abc's.

Do you see what I've been reduced too? And that's even with spending two days a week at an inner-city daycare. And another day at the library at my school.

And yes, come October, I am going to be dying for a break. Longing for a day or two off. But that doesn't make this long ridiculous break any easier.

Yes, I would like a break in October, when the weather is perfect for reading outside, or sipping coffee on the back porch. Right now it's too hot to put one toe outside.

And in October I will only want one or two days off. A week max. None of this weeks on end forced holiday. This is crazy. Who ever thought this schedule was a good idea?

Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go read Brown Bear, Brown Bear to my cat.

** ** **
I welcome any summer reading recommendations you think will somehow get me to the end of August.

and it's begun

It's the first official day of summer break. In fact, it's my first full day of a full summer break since I became a teacher. Although I did not start teaching at my year-round-think tank school, I transferred there for my second year of teaching.

I've mentioned this before, but it continues to be true: I am terrified.

What am I going to do with myself until September now that we are no longer year-round?

I'm use to a few lazy weeks in the very beginning of summer, some semi-productive weeks, and then, finally, begging my principal to let me into the school early because I have to do something before I go insane. The begging, boredom, and need to be working usually begins in mid-July. This summer, mid-July will be mid-way through the summer.

I'm worried I'll run off and join the circus.

So far I've spent hours re-reading a "not-quite-trash but close-to-it" book and telling myself that after "just one more chapter" I'll get up and do laundry, research funding for grad school, write a meaningful blog post (this doesn't count), shower, bake cookies, unload the dish washer, etc, etc. Um... , so yea, I've managed to shower.

the silence of what is no longer there

Today we slowly plodded our way through our first day back after our break. We had one week for spring break and a week and one day of intersession, where our students could choose to come to school and enjoy different classes on fun topics. I chose not to work, so today was my first day back dealing with reality, and I spent the day truly thinking Starbucks must have given me a decaf because I clearly needed a lot more caffeine to get through the day...

Although I was dragging the kids were on fire. They came in with excited stories about everything they'd learned over intersession. Some shared new ideas, told stories, discussed the different attributes of the 3-dimensional objects they'd studied, or explained the rules to new games. Their energy was inspiring.

and then it was time for writing.

My co-teacher and I sat down to begin a poetry unit and broke out a trusty ole' KWL chart (a three-columned chart for those of you not in education, where one column you fill in what you KNOW about a subject (K), the next column is for what you WANT to know about a subject (W), and you save the last column for later, when the class adds what they LEARNED about the subject (L). We tossed the chart up on the board and prepared ourselves for the "poems rhyme", "I like poems" and "My mom is a poem" facts ala Ralph Wiggims.

Instead we were hit with:
"Jack Peletski is a poet" (I have no idea how to spell his name...)

"Poems have line breaks"

"Poems don't have to use punctuation"

"Poems are written in different countries in different languages"

"Poems can be like singing and talking mixed together"

"Some poems rhyme, but they don't have to"

....

It went on and on.

Why the difference?

Intersession.

A group of them had been in a class studying poems, and they immediately brought their knowledge over to us to share. And as those few shared their deeper knowledge of poems, others began to think beyond their typical expectations of poems. The lesson, which had initially promised to be a fairly dull introduction to poetry, exploded into a theoretical discussion of poems as we moved into the "What do you want to know" column. They wanted to know who wrote the first poem, what motivated people to write poems, where in the world poems originated, and on and on. By the time the lesson was over the classroom was buzzing with thoughts about poems.

I love, LOVE that intersession gives our children the knowledge and experience in new contexts that makes learning memorable. I love that intersession allows some children to become experts on a subject, which allows them to then turn around and teach their peers back in their regular classrooms- giving everyone a chance to be a leader. I love that intersession allows our students to practice their skills in new ways, get exposure to new ideas, and understand new reasons for using their academic skills.

I HATE that this was the last intersession.

I hate that today was the last day our children will come back brimming with new knowledge to share with us from their intersession classes. I hate that this was the last time they got the opportunity to practice fractions while cooking, create collages to write about, investigate nature in a new way, and meet new friends. I hate that the community intersession creates- the sense of belonging our children get from knowing new friends and new teachers throughout the building, will be gone next year.

I've been grumpy about how I'll have a whole summer vacation to squander away. I've been worried about what will happen to our curriculum when we return next Fall and suddenly realize our children are behind where they were when they left us in June. I've loudly complained about what the long summer will do to our little ones stuck in their small apartment buildings, relying on a Nintendo console and a teenage brother to keep them busy while their parents are away. I may have stomped my feet a few times about what this will do to our test scores.

But today was the first day the loss of knowledge really sunk in. Today was the first day I understood the intangible object we are losing- the skills, experiences, and knowledge our students gained this year from their intersession classes that just wont exist next year. The excited first day back discussions of "in intersession I learned..." we will no longer hear. The books that will not be read, the stories that will not be written, the confidence that will not develop, the connections that will not be made.

The silence is deafening.

life, death, and spring

I've spent the last 2 weeks living the luxurious lifestyle of my current year-round schedule, enjoying the last intersession break our school will ever have. It was originally scheduled to be a full 3 weeks, but the snow allowed us to take one of the weeks in February, so we've only been granted two weeks and a day off (we have to go back next Tuesday). The kids and teachers who chose to teach have been back for a week now taking/teaching fun classes that have SOL standards secretly embedded into them between the cooking, crafts, and video-making.

I am so going to miss this next year.

Not just because I've had 2 weeks to play in the sometimes beautiful, sometimes cold, sometimes too hot spring weather.

I've busied myself planting flowers on my balcony, a task that always makes me miss the classroom. In first grade we had an intense plant unit, where each child had a chance to plant one or two plants of their own, along with a class garden and other planting experiments where we watched the magic of roots, shoots, and leaves. In first grade science = magic and there is nothing that compares to the excitement of first graders witnessing nature.

One year, instead of telling them what plants need to live we developed hypothesis of what those important elements may be. Each child was able to choose where in our classroom to place their plants- in the window, over by their desk for indirect light, the sink for easy watering, by the air conditioner, or in the closet. Each child needed to write why he was placing his plant in that place, and had to be able to articulate his hypothesis of what plants needed and why his experiment would show that.

We waited to perform this activity until the plants were already healthy green stalks, and the children had already tenderly cared for them for a week or so and grown attached to their plant. Do not forget that in first grade everything has a soul- every object has a life of its own and pencils, plants, crayons, and books all automatically have feelings.

The class excitedly filled out their hypothesis papers and placed their plants in their desired location. Days went by as we charted, observed, measured, and checked our hypothesis.

The results were as expected- those who placed their seedling in the sun had plants that continued to grow strong. Those who placed it in indirect light had plants that grew, but not as well. Those who placed theirs in the closet had plants that died.

Died.

I will never recover from the look I received from the first graders whose plants had withered without the sunlight. They had killed their plant- they cried. And I had forced them. I had turned them into murderers.

There were tears, pouting, foot stomping, destruction of someone else's plant, and more tears. They were killers, their plant had died. It was my fault.

In retrospect perhaps we should have had some generic class plants we could have put in the closet so that it wasn't any one's personal plant who made its way to plant heaven. This would have left every first grader with a healthy plant, and relieved all guilt of from the 6 year old gardeners of becoming plant killers.

I wanted to tell them not to worry- anything I plant, no matter what I do, dies under my black thumb. That they should get use to killing plants because they have a whole life ahead of them of forgetting to water the beautiful potted plant from a friend, or going on vacation and returning to find that in one week the sun has withered the garden beyond repair. Or from being on spring break and watching the squirrels dig up your newly planted pots and throw your geraniums to the ground below.

But that would only solidify their belief that I was a plant murderer so I held my tongue, and allowed them to redo the experiment in the sun.

using the snow to my advantage

Our entire region is absolutely, ridiculously snowed in. This is absurd. We do not live in Canada. We do not live in New England. We do not live in Antarctica. Although, it feels like it these days. The squirrels are starting to look more and more like penguins.

And we're starting to suspect we will never go to school again.

On my afternoon walk, as I embraced the beauty of the snow covered trees and the quietness of the neighborhood, it occurred to me this is actually a good thing for some of my children.

In order to get my special education students to qualify for summer school I have to be able to prove that they will actually lose the skills they learned over the year if they have the entire summer off. Typically we do not worry too much about this since our summer breaks were so short. But since now we are looking at a regular school summer I'm feeling a little nervous about some of my children regressing over that long summer- we've worked so, so hard for them to go so long without reading or seeing their name in print.

Right before last Tuesday's snow I was going over my paperwork and looking at what sort of data I needed to be able to prove that my children's skills actually regressed over a break. But since our children go to intersession during our breaks, this is actually harder to prove- they may have a "break" from regular school, but they are still in a learning environment.

Yet now, with what could turn out to be a very long unexpected break from school with absolutely no instruction, I might actually be able to get my data.

I kind of feel like a scientist excited about the perfect conditions for an experiment. Not that I'm experimenting with my kids- but I need this data.

It feels wrong that I have to hope they'll lose what I just worked so hard to teach them- but if it allows them to go to summer school I feel like it is worth a shot.

So, here's to my children not doing anything for a week but letting the tv eat their brains...

only so that they may have a summer filled with learning.

warning- my own irrational, bitter thoughts...

*take this all knowing that I've been snowed in for days and easily become irrationally bitter when I have large amounts of time to think**

It's official.

The think-tank will no longer be year-round next year.

We knew it was coming. In December our principal called us to a staff meeting and presented the budget. She told us about the fights happening behind the scenes, the decisions she was forced to make, the sacrifices all the principals had to face. We all left the meeting with an increase admiration for our principal and how she was fighting for us, along with a heavy heart knowing that we would no longer be year-round because it just wasn't possible. I am still amazed and in awe of how my principal presented the information to help us understand the budget and why it was in our best interest to no longer be year-round. Our district is facing huge cuts, staff positions are threatened, no one knows what is going to happen to class sizes, we don't expect a pay raise any time in the near future- everyone, on every level, is being asked to tighten their belts.

So it shouldn't have been such a blow to see that last week it became official- the school board voted to eliminate of our year-round calendar.

What is a shock, however, is what they voted to keep in spite of the "everyone is going to tighten their belts" lectures we've been giving.

Yes, children benefit from the programs they voted to keep- like freshman sports, foreign language in elementary schools, and winter track- but it's hard to swallow that they're keeping those when we're losing other great programs.

They're closing an alternative high school that allows teenage mothers to get their high school degrees at night so they can hold down their jobs during the day- a program that was making it possible for a parents of my one of my kindergarten students to earn her diploma. With a year left to go, however, and a 5 year old at home, we can only pray that she has the resources to find another way to earn her degree. (They did vote to give funding to help those students with the transition, so hopefully that will help).

Some of it just hurts because, we were told that we were all in this together- we were all tightening our belts. And now we learn that the children who already speak English will be able to continue to learn another language in elementary school- yes, a wonderful experience for them- but our children are losing a program that actually helps them learn English.

High school freshman will continue to be able to participate in sports- yes, a wonderful opportunity- but our children will have an entire summer sitting in their apartment buildings to forget their reading skills and their English vocabulary.

Earlier this month Mr.Lipstick and I caught a segment on the local news about these cuts. They showed videos from the school board meetings where children from the foreign language programs came and read poems to the school board in their new language. High schoolers were there in their sports uniforms advocating for their teams. And these kids should be there- they should advocating for their needs- but they were there because their parents understood the importance of getting them there. They had parents who weren't working a night job so they could get them there- they had parents supporting and encouraging them to speak in front of a room of many important people. Of course, I do not know for sure that none of our families were there, but my guess is that they were not. Our families do not always have the resources, the understanding of the system, or the confidence, to make their needs heard.

And it might not have made a difference. It was a tough fight- an uphill battle, and we are blessed to come out of the fight still keeping our class sizes the same and continuing to have so many instructional coaches at our school. We are not walking away losing everything, and in truth, we are still receive more funding than many schools in this country.

But give me this one moment to be sad and frustrated- that our children have lost such an important program while others, who already had so much, did not lose as much.

excuses, excuses

Right at the end of the day as we were cleaning up one of my new scrapbooking friends yelled out, "_____ said a bad word!"

_____ immediately looked me in the eye and said, "But I used it in a sentence!"

While that is a far better excuse than, "it was an accident!" I was clearly not very impressed. Especially because the sentence turned out to be, "What the ____?"

life's moral questions

Picture this-

You are six years old. You and your friend have been sent on an errand to deliver a note to another teacher. You don't know this other teacher, but are faithfully delivering the note and then planning on going straight back to class.

But when you arrive at your destination the room is dark- nobody is there.

Nobody except a slice of pizza.

What do you do?

Now picture this-

You are a teacher. You woke up this morning to a water main break in your neighborhood so you are sans shower. Gross. You're hungry, because you're trying to eat healthy but that small Soup in Hand just didn't fill you up. The kids are crazy, but you're relieved because it's time to take them to specials so you'll have a bit of a break (just enough time to go to the bathroom and take a few deep breathes). Just as your lining your class up your wonderful friend walks in holding a slice of pizza. For you. A beautiful piece of pizza, all yours. It calls your name, begging you to indulge as you walk your class down the hall. But no- you'll wait- it would be wrong to eat it in front of them. So you put it down on a table by the door and lead the class to the gym, all the while thinking about how wonderful it will be to have a few moments of peace and quiet to enjoy that beautiful piece of pizza.

And then- you return to your room to find:

There is a bite out of your pizza.

THERE IS A BITE OUT OF YOUR PIZZA

WHO GOES INTO SOMEONE'S CLASSROOM AND TAKES ONE BITE OUT OF THEIR PIZZA?

So you email the friend who gave you the pizza, because obviously, it has to be a joke, right?

Now imagine you are the six year old again-

The teacher you'd been sent to visit and the intersession coordinator (acting principal during intersession) come to find you and your friend, knowing that you were the only people in the classroom that could have possibly eaten the pizza. They ask your teacher if they can see you in the hallway.

You could possibly get out of this- think fast.

Nope- Your friend immediately throws you under the bus- "I didn't do it!"

You send her that look that says "shut up!" but it's too late.

"Didn't do what?" they ask

"Eat the pizza! She did" friend points to you.

Moment of truth. Your caught. The teachers are holding the pizza in question. They can get DNA evidence to determine whose mouth took the bite. The witness fingered you in front of the judges- all eyes stare you down accusingly.

Do you confess? Go ahead and take your punishment?

Or- instead, do you immediately blurt out, "It was an ACCIDENT!"

Teacher again:

How do you possibly keep a straight face when you hear that?

I couldn't. I died of laughter. Which was unfortunate because the little girl momentarily thought it was all going to be ok- if we were laughing she couldn't really get in trouble, right?

Wrong.

She spent some time in the office, but wrote a heart-felt apology note.

It says:

Dear Ms. L

I an soey I eat see ai in the cine room. I see piea no dia to you on a cine tals. wto in the cine welh see mrs. l.

Attached to it was the pizza. Just in case I wanted to finish it off.

I do seem to have problems with food in the classroom. At least this time nobody was trying to poison me.

crazy

There is nothing I love more than a good read aloud. Especially one that is full of high drama, stubborn children, repetitive text so the children can chime in and read along, and good voices. I think most early elementary teachers feel the same one. So one of the aspects I love about intersession is that I get to do read alouds all the time- no set curriculum to tell me there's no time- no really important lessons we have to get too or I'll have to erase my plan book and draw lots of arrows... I can grab a book whenever I want to and dive in.

Yesterday I decided to indulge in one of my all time favorites, Thomas' Snowsuit by Robert Munch. I adore Robert Munch. I adore Robert Munch because his stories typically make absolutely no sense to adults, but kids find them hysterical. They're goofy- usually mention peeing, or underwear, or something just as ridiculously silly- they tend to be repetitive so the class has lines to chant during the story, and they usually involve children who outsmart adults because the adults are so set on their routines they don't think outside the box or notice the obvious.

So yesterday I opened Thomas' Snowsuit and dove in. The book begins with Thomas' mother showing him his nice, new, brown snowsuit and Thomas says "that is the ugliest snowsuit I have ever seen. If you think I am going to wear that snowsuit you are crazy" (or something like that). Occasionally at this point there are a few children who are shocked that a child would call his mother's snowsuit ugly, or tell his mother she is crazy.

Yesterday, however, this was not the case. One little girl let out a shocked yelp "crazy?" so I stopped and said, "I know none of you would ever call your mother crazy, or refuse to put on your snowsuit, right?" I went back to reading- or tried to go back to reading- when a boy chimed in, "But my mother is crazy"

And then from across the carpet another boy related, "yeah, mine too!"

"Oh no, it's my dad that is crazy!" a boy says, shaking his head knowingly.

"My mom says I'm crazy"

"My mom IS crazy"

"Only when my mom drinks soda- then she's crazy"

"My mom is so crazy she...."

So, do I stop the conversation and move on, before some child reveals his family's secrets? Or do I indulge my curiosity? Stop the lesson and let everyone write about a time their family was crazy? Just what do they mean by crazy...?

I laughed before details were shared and went back to reading, letting everyone get lost in Thomas' battle over his ugly brown snowsuit.

I do love when a group of children bonds over literature. I've just never had a group bond over family drama in that way. Perhaps it's the holidays that brings out every one's craziness.

oh, it's you...

On of my special friends is in my intersession class.

Despite the fact that I met her when she was in preschool, helped her transition to my school, worked with her at length in kindergarten, attended one of her t-ball games last spring, and continue to work closely with her in first grade, when she saw she was in my class she loudly announced with surprise,

"Hey! I know you! You're Mrs. Lipstick"

grumpy

i am so not in a good mood.
it's ridiculously cold and windy outside. my cat managed to destroy one of the cookbooks i'd placed on top of the frog's file box (and all mr. lipstick said was, "well, better that than the frog". )
but most of all i have to go back to work tomorrow.
by choice.
i decided, back in october that it would be a good idea to teach intersession.
ha.
i was so, so, stupid.
i could spend another week cuddling under warm blankets, sipping hot coco and reading for pleasure. but no, i thought "it's good money" and "i like intersession"
i'd forgotten that last spring, after our last intersession, the thoughts, "you can't pay me enough to do this again" were going through my head.
so instead, i'm banging around the house, making mr. lipstick miserable, acting like going back to work after a 2 week break is the worst thing i've ever had to do in my entire life. like i'm being forced to walk off the plank by unruly pirates.
i know, don't you wish you were here: cheerful, isn't it?

but tomorrow is a half day- and i'm teaching scapbooking, which tends to be a gigantic, fun, mess. we'll sing lots of noisy, active songs and read lots of great books, and i'm sure by the end of the day tomorrow i will have thought about some other good reasons that i shouldn't stay in bed for the remainder of the week...

being back

I was not a happy camper when the alarm went off this morning. I was not a happy camper as I stood in the shower trying to remember why exactly I was up so early. I was not a happy camper as I drove to work in the dark. Or when I got to work and heard about our crazy kids over intersession. Or when I started wrestling with the large mound of paperwork waiting for me.

Can you blame me? For the first week of intersession Mr. Lipstick and I ran around Peru, exploring Machu Picchu, Cusco, and Lima. The next week I stayed in- napping with my cat and enjoying the gorgeous show the trees outside my windows are currently performing. How could I deny myself another day of reading, hot chocolate mug in hand, letting the cat nap on me, and watching the sun dance through the spectacular colored leaves outside my window? I mean, going to work today was almost criminal.

I did it anyway, but don't think that I liked it.

Today bounced back and forth between reminding me why I'll be setting my alarm tomorrow morning and making me think longingly of my couch and current novel waiting for me at home.

...we carved a pumpkin in kindergarten. There is perhaps nothing better than watching 5 year old faces twist in horror and excitement as we pull out the "guts" of the pumpkin. Nothing better until their faces light up when we ask them to put their own hand inside the orange goo.

Today we met our new Assistant principal and another new staff member, learned that we still have a fighting chance at keeping our year-round calendar (but now is the time to fight), and learned there would be some moving of offices, which is always stressful. But I was doing ok.

Until I discovered that on Wednesday morning I am expected to be in 4 places at the same time. I have not yet completed my time-travel machine, or my self-cloning technique, so this is going to prove difficult. The minute I saw my schedule I grabbed my keys, dreaming of driving home as fast as I could, curling up under a blanket, looking at the leaves, taking deep breaths, and never coming back to school. But then I uncurled my hand, put the keys back in my purse, and took a large breath. Because

...a little one looked at me and said, "Mrs. Lipstick, I, you, I, you,.... I missed, I missed, I missed YOU!"

To which my story teller responded,

"I didn't miss you. I had too much fun." And later added, "By the way, you shouldn't go to the party store 'cause their costumes will give you nightmares!"

Today I fought with the printer, the fax machine, my files, the copier, and my calendar. I emailed more than I taught.

...but I got to chat with fabulous friend about the new addition to her family- "yeah, my mom's having a baby. It's a GIRL. My mom doesn't want a girl. My mom wants a boy"

To which her friend responded, "I think fabulous friend's parents must be married if they're having a new baby!"

*Can you imagine being fabulous friend's little sister- not only having to share your toys with fabulous friend and living in her footsteps, but also having her inform you, most likely over and over again, that your mother really just wanted a boy? I hope fabulous friend forgets this incident...

And, as I was pulling away from school my phone rang. Our school librarian was on the other end.

"Can I just read you the best first line of a book ever?" she asked,

And she proceeded to read a line from a new Max and Ruby book about Max hiding his pop sickle where no one would find it. And yes, it was the best first line of a book ever. And I love that even on wishy-washy stressful days, right when I'm wondering if this is really the right job for me, the people I work with find a way to remind me just how fabulous the think tank is by sharing a story, brainstorming new ideas, or simply calling just to read aloud from a children's story.

Maybe I'll go back to work after all.

como se dice...

Mr. Lipstick and I are getting ready to head to Peru for our international no-baby trip of '09. We made a deal when we got engaged that we would leave the country once a year until we had babies. aka- a no baby trip. Our year-round school schedule is perfect for this plan. So far, so good. The first year took us to Ireland for a friend's wedding (where a leprechaun stole the memory card of my camera), the second year took us to Switzerland where I met my Swiss cousins, and this year Mr. Lipstick decided he wanted to go somewhere that would allow us to use our Spanish.

"Our Spanish" as though we have some to call our own.

I started taking Spanish in 8th grade and continued until my sophomore year of college. 7 years of hard studying and I can ask where the bathroom is, tell a kindergartner to keep their hands to themselves, put their eyes on me, and that their work is very good. Not in actual sentences, mind you, or with proper grammar, but I find that being very expressive with ones hands makes up for any oral miscommunication. Right?

So I'm not really comfortable with this idea of "using our Spanish". I've done just fine in countries where I didn't speak the language- Greece, China, Italy, Switzerland. I've learned the basic survival words, relied on hand-motions, and kept a translation guide nearby. Now that I'm going to a country where I have a 7 year history of speaking their language I'm a little nervous. I'm convinced we'll be nodding along happily with a native speaker, thinking we know exactly what they are saying, and before we know it we'll be on a bus to some random town and our passports will be gone.

(I'm an expert at imagining the worst possible situations. It's my super power. I try to keep it quiet as much as possible, but sometimes it slips out. I'll make my own child miserable one day.)

So to prepare for this language immersion I've set my GPS to the Spanish settings. I've tried reading novels in Spanish and spent parent/teacher conferences listening very carefully to see what I can pick up. (not much- I am screwed.)

I also tried to convince the children I teach to teach me everything they know. I took advantage of our afternoon dramatic play center to get them to teach me Spanish. This did not go so well. Little Carlos yelling, "caliente!" when he ironed the clothes on his own body was about as far as I got. The children are not all Spanish speakers so the poor Vietnamese, Korean, Arabic, and English speakers just wanted to get on with play- stop the boring vocabulary lesson.

And the children who did speak Spanish were kind of confused with why I'd want to learn it anyway. After all, they were working so hard to speak English, why was I repeating the words they were saying? And, as anyone who works with 5 year olds knows, they are not the pinnacle of perfect diction. Especially if they have actually been diagnosed with a Speech/Language impairment. So yes, I am headed off to Peru clueless that I may be saying words with a stutter or a lisp- thinking I'm pronouncing it just like Carlos taught me.

On top of this I am just not a strong auditory learner. My auditory memory and auditory discrimination are pretty awful, so I spent a lot of time sipping imaginary tea in dramatic play pronouncing Spanish words only to have the children glance nervously at each other, then repeat the word again, not knowing if I was correcting their diction, or if they should correct me. I was, after all, the teacher- how did they know I wasn't trying to teach them to speak in Spanish. And how does one, at 5, correct a teacher when the teacher is butchering their native language?

So, the language lessons in dramatic play failed, and I'll be getting on a plane tomorrow to plunge into using a language I may or may not speak with a lisp, incorrect grammar, and large hand gestures. They're going to think I have my own special needs. Perhaps I will pretend I don't know this "our Spanish" of which Mr. Lipstick speaks...

the 7 year old in me is sticking my tongue out at the world

For those of you who enjoyed your August- enjoyed sleeping in, relaxing, going on trips, or staying in your pjs 'til 11 while we were working our tails off at the think tank- it's our turn. Now you'll be dragging yourself to work every day for the next two weeks while we get to play.

Nothing is as relaxing or rewarding as October intersession. The air is crisp, the leaves are changing, and the tourists have all left DC so it's actually possible to enjoy a week day at the museusm, and I don't have to go to work. It's my turn for the pjs 'til 11, sleeping in, shopping during the day, or reading a book for pleasure at a coffee shop.

We have two days of parent conferences and then we're off for two beautiful weeks.

I really have the best job in the world.

Summer Loving

Dear Summer 2009,
Well, it's been a great 5 weeks, yet the time has come for us to part.

We had a rough start, you and I, with all that studying I had to do the first week. I tried my best to study by the pool, or study as I walked around the neighborhood, but let's not pretend that was the stuff memories were made of. But we did it- got the studying over with, took comps, and then jumped on a plane to Colorado.

That's really where we began our brief love affair. You took me on so many hikes in Colorado, and despite the sunburn (hiking in the Blue Ridge is usually shaded- never thought to coat myself in sunblock until the burn had set in), it was a glorious week- the perfect combination of friends, lazy pool mornings, and active hiking. I was even able to waste away an afternoon in one of my favorite independent bookstores in Aspen (because everyone should have favorite independent bookstores across the country).

Then I was back home, but with three glorious weeks of nothingness. Unlike Summer 2008, you were not filled with three graduate courses. You and I did not have to huddle over the computer writing papers, pretending we were relaxing because we were on the porch. No, you and I re-read Harry Potter (Year 6 and Year 7). You and I read books for fun, read books for school, had many lunches & pool dates with friends, and went to the midnight showing of Harry Potter (where you reminded me, so gracefully, that I am too old to stay up that late and still enjoy a movie).

I learned from Summer 2007 and Summer 2008 that Summer To-Do lists can overtake you and drag you down. Summer 2009, I did not do that with you. My list primarily focused on becoming more cat-like. Naps in the sun, lazy mornings interrupted by bouts of energetic play. You introduced me to The Wire Season 4 and Wii Active. You gave me bits of time to organize my office, clean some of those areas in the house I normally never get to, and go through grad school papers. But even more time was spent on nourishing my laziness.

Summer 2009- with your relaxed schedule I learned to keep score in baseball, kayaked in the Potomac, played numerous softball games on the National Mall, hiked Aspen Mountain, played with my sewing machine, planted new flowers on the porch and kept them alive (at least for a little while).

And now it's time for us to part. It's been a beautiful 5 weeks, really. I will never forget your gentle mornings- although it was just cruel to have the road crew start working at 8am last Thursday and Friday- but perhaps you were only trying to get me ready for the coming week.

I will not dwell on the fact that you and I did not really do anything productive. The big goal you and I had was to have the upstairs bathroom remodelled. On this last day together, you and I sit with multiple estimates, but are no closer to having a bathtub that does not flood the kitchen. So you and I were lazy, but perhaps that was ok.

Here's to the beautiful, lazy days we shared together, Summer 2009. I am sure the rest you gave me will get me through the chaotic start of school with the new kindergarteners.

At least, I hope so.

Love,
Mrs. Lipstick

one week left...

There is so much to fill in my one week of summer vacation... books to read, movies to watch, hours by the pool, friends to see, art projects to finish- along with all those pesky tasks that add up during the year that you think, "I'll just do that during the summer when I don't have anything else to do". One week to get it all complete.

Last Thursday the idea of having to go back to work on the 27th filled me with a certain dread. I needed at least another week of having my breakfast on my porch in the morning, another week of sitting by the pool, another week of the slow, quiet life of summer break. Yet on Friday something seemed to snap. By the time Mr. Lipstick got home Friday afternoon ready for a relaxing weekend I was wound up like a six year old before Christmas. It was then I realized it may be about time to go back to work.

Then my horoscope (I don't usually put stock in them, unless they are amusing) yesterday basically told me that I'm not good at having no responsibilities and that I'll be a happier person when I get those responsibilities back.

Even my horoscope thinks it's time to go back to work.

Don't get me wrong- I fully plan on enjoying this last week of summer. My to-do list includes many lazy, all-about-me projects that will let me fully appreciate the lack of responsibilities this week offers. But I have to admit my students are slowly slipping into my thoughts at the pool- ideas for starting the year, communicating with parents, teaching reading- are all running through my head when I least expect it. I think I'm starting to be ready.

Sunday night, I'm sure, I will be singing a different tune.

Amen! (but it doesn't matter...)

In the outlook section of today's Washington Post Brigid Schulte writes about how much her children love the modified calendar schedule. She discusses all the ways it's great for academics, how refreshing it is for her children to learn creativity in school, and how the "problem students" tend not to be problem students during intersession. All of this is true, true, true. Amen, Amen, Amen.

She also writes about the districts who are getting rid of modified calendar schools due to the budget crisis. We're one of those districts. I've been too depressed about it to even write about it. We have one more year with our calendar and then it's back to the traditional schedule. I can't even begin to discuss how sad I am by this. Like Schulte says in her article, we're not losing our calendar because it's not valuable. We're losing it because of the budget.

I love the Post's article, and feel that Schulte hits on many of the benefits of our current calendar from a middle-class perspective (I know everything I've written on the subject has been from the perspective of how it benefits our children in poverty).

Part of me wants to send copies of this article to everyone working with the Superintendent, and everyone on the School Board in hopes of changing their minds. But sadly, our battle for keeping our calendar is over.

spring

i have to admit i'm having one of those weeks that just makes me excited to get up and go to work. it's nice to be back with my own kids. someone waved a magic wand over their heads over spring break because they suddenly seem to have grown up. things they were struggling with before our break now seem to be easier for them. they seem taller, they're listening more, and they're thinking more. if i ever doubt the developmental theories and piaget spring is what always changes my mind. the mere fact that we've let them get a little older and develop a little more seems to open them up for new learning. i love it where the kindergartners are in their learning right now.

my ecstatic state is probably helped by the fact that i turned in my last huge grad school paper monday night (just a final and then the comprehensive exams standing between me and my masters) and we found out that we are 99% sure we'll be year-round next year. no promises for the year after that, but we'll take next year at least.

fun, but was it measurable?

i have to admit that grad school has been changing the way i look at education a bit. i don't know if that's a good thing, and i don't think i fully realized it until i decided to give my kiddos a test during intersession.

a test!! during intersession!! what kind of cruel teacher would do such a thing? i knew it was evil but once the idea came to me i couldn't move past it. i wanted to know what they learned, or if they'd learned anything at all. whether or not our county is going to keep our intersessions is up in the air right now and i guess part of me wanted to have something tangible to know whether or not it actually gives us a change in academic performance (see below for background).

also, i'll admit, part of this idea was for my own sanity. since my class was scrapbooking we make a HUGE mess. other teachers would walk into my room and i could tell from their faces and how they quickly back-tracked out of the room that they thought i was crazy. it looked like i had no control, i know. i promise i did- i'd structured the class to give them control of their own learning- true organized chaos if you will, but in the end, it was organized. still, after two weeks of "oh my" whenever someone walked into the room i felt i needed to justify my class, if only to myself.

so i created a quick "challenge" (with first graders if you say anything in a deep voice like a tv announcer they'll buy it. the second graders fully knew what i was doing and called it a test- the first graders gave them evil looks and said, "no! it's a challenge!" this is why i love first grade.

i taught a scrapbooking class and my goal had been to cover:
-measurement- inches vs centimeters
-shapes- square vs rectangle
-line of symmetry & symetrical objects
-fractions- whole, 1/2, 1/4, 1/8
-locating virginia on a map of the us
-locating the us on a map of the world

it sounds fairly basic but after all, it is intersession.

i found that they did in fact learn something. i was shocked actually. i expected to be disappointed.

my morning class, the one that i spent all of my time yelling at, lecturing about behavior, and the one i limited our activities because we just couldn't handle doing more, actually did the best on the "challenge". i was amazed. they were very proud of themselves and when we went over the "challenge" they told me they hadn't known the information before. (of course since i didn't do a pretest i don't know how true that is).

my afternoon class did well on the math aspects but all identified canada as the united states. (clearly i messed up my teaching at some point in that one!) sadly i feel i can't really count my afternoon class papers because when i was trying to fix other children's scrapbooks one little boy proudly went around and tried to tell everyone the answers because he was so happy he had learned them. so, i know for that little one he learned something. for the others, well, i just can't say for sure.

so i left feeling content that yes, they have a better grasp of fractions, measurement, and map skills than when they came to me, but i also realize that part of this just doesn't matter. so many of the kiddos in my afternoon class had very weak english skills. what mattered more than anything else was the fact that they had two weeks to practice their english. we played games that made them use their english using descriptive words. they wrote their puppet plays that made them use their english. and in a way, that was more important than learning the cold facts they might forget.

and my morning class, the ones that were holy terrors but somehow learned something? those kids needed to feel successful in something. they learned to manage a project for two weeks, make decisions for themselves about how they would manage their time, and worked independently on creative tasks that in the end they could be proud of. and that seems more important than learning those cold facts too.

this seems to be the heart of the education debate. did i need to have a test to measure what my students learned during intersession? there is no simple way to measure the skills they learned of managing an independent project, but it was fairly easy for me to put together a test to give me tangible evidence. so what is more valuable? the test results or the larger outcomes? which should i be held accountable for?

luckily for me and my school, what i can say about all this is that intersession itself is valuable and not a waste of school funding.

****
background-
**** our school is on a modified calendar so we start in july and have two week breaks throughout the school year, ending in june with the regular calendar schools in our county. during those two week breaks the students can pay a very small fee and come to school to attend intersession. each student gets to take two classes, a morning class and an afternoon class. as teachers we have the option to teach for extra pay but we do not have to. we bring in teachers from the community as well so the students get to have "experts" teach classes on plants, etc.
because intersession is a large extra cost on the school district (supplies, teacher pay, six extra weeks of busing) our school district is considering eliminating it. while they realize it is valuable to our students they also feel they just can't afford it. we are still waiting for the final budget approval to know whether or not we'll be year-round next year. there are only seven schools that have this calendar in our large county. i also believe it was brilliantly insightful of the old superintendent to recognize that the communities in our large school district are not the same and that they need different structures to be successful. having only 7 year-round schools is not easy on anybody and creates more paperwork for everyone in the long run, but is also very worth while to those students. i don't think many school districts open themselves up to having different models in different schools and i appreciate that ours did (and i hope they wont be changing that!!)

i support keeping our calendar even if we do not have intersession (partly because i hope that one day the money will be back and we can put intersession back in place, partly because i'm terrified of our kiddos staying home over the summer without us, and partly because i feel the community will step up and supply intersession-like classes for families that need day care. they'll be more expensive but i think that is better than the full summer to themselves. ) however, this is not an option and they will either take away intersession and our calendar or let us keep it at least one more year. keep your fingers crossed for us!!