Bad days

There are bad teaching days when the kids are crazy and even your best lessons fall flat. Then there are bad teaching days when it's totally your fault- lack of planning, no energy to react to misbehavior, not paying enough attention. Today was one of those days, with no one to blame but myself. Well, maybe also my baby who still isn't sleeping through the night. But she's too cute to blame.

Hooray for the bathroom!

When I graduated from college I didn't expect that my degree would lead me to be sitting in the floor of a classroom bathroom coaxing a five year to use the toilet. I certainly didn't expect to be excited about it. But today after a few silly rounds of peek-a-boo with one of my friends I decided to suggest that we just go into the bathroom. You know, just to chill. Learn that it's not a scary place. Hang out. (because isn't that what we all want to do- hang out in a bathroom used by five year olds).
My friend was in such a good mood that he did it although he'd previously refused to go anywhere near the place.
Not only did he go into the bathroom but he came very, very close to actually using the bathroom. And he did this three times.
There was lots of clapping and hugging. And maybe some candy.
I never thought that I'd connect the bathroom with a Christmas miracle.

sticky

There are days I think I am earning an advanced degree in unsticking glue bottles. Today is one of those days.

Elf on a shelf

Is anyone else a little bit horrified by Elf on a shelf? I'll admit- part of my horror is probably pure jealousy. My husband's aunt gave Little Lipstick a signed copy because the creator was a teacher at her school.
A teacher. I mean, it's exactly the type of thing one of us would create. Like my first year teaching when I convinced my first graders that the best April fool's day joke would be to whisper all day and if anyone asked why we'd say, "shhhh- don't wake the lion!" it made no sense but it gave me a very quiet, headache free day.

Elf on a shelf is brilliant from a marketing stand point. Once you've decided to try it as a parent you are stuck moving that elf every day in December until your little ones don't believe in Santa anymore. And if you're one of those creative parents whose elf gets involved in elaborate play scenes every night? You are stuck coming up with new elf shenanigans for years. But you can't not be an elf on a shelf family! What will your kids think? Santa loves the other kids more?
(we're going to tell baby lipstick that our family elf is a crotchety old elf who doesn't like to move a lot because of his hip replacement and just skypes with Santa instead of actually flying up there. The cold at the North Pole isn't good for his arthritis. I mean, in these modern times what elf actually needs to travel to the north pole?)

Baby L and I nestled in to read the book this morning as she grabbed at the red elf (which means our elf is already ruined. The book, in a very teacher like manner tells the kids that if they touch the elf he loses his magic. Brilliant.) and I was kind of horrified by the book. It's like the children's version of 1984. This large demanding boss makes his little worker drones fly around the world and spy on his subjects. He'll reward behavior he likes and punish those not acting appropriately. And that sneaky spy is hiding in your house. He's got friends in high places too, so don't mess up on the playground when you think the elf isn't around. Oh no. Big brother elf is all knowing. He's out there. Santa isn't limited by the constitution after all, and even if he was, the right to privacy is a sketchy one.
But don't think your elf is going to talk to you- Santa's laws don't allow for free speech. No, he's just going to talk about you behind your back like a middle school girl. Paranoid yet?

Of course, Mr Lipstick and I will do Elf on a Shelf and we'll probably even make the mistake of being those creative elf hiders the first year, sentencing ourselves to years of stressful December evenings. Because despite all the communist propaganda, as a kid I would have loved an elf and I bet little lipstick will too.

Three ring circus

My classroom is very much a three ring circus in many ways. On good days it is a very smoothly run operation that would bore any circus goer to tears. In one corner children are quietly reading, in another a child might be transitioning from his wheel chair to his stander, on the rug a child might be quietly working on an assigned activity.
Today was not one of those days. Today I could have sold popcorn.
One girl was so wound up she kept running from the room, giggling manically and throwing books. Another child was in the hallway refusing to go anywhere. I caught another trying to feed the frog when no one was looking (and then he tried to tell me that Mrs Lipstick told him he could, looking shocked when I pointed out that I was Mrs Lipstick and knew very well that I'd told him no such thing)
And that was just in one five minute block. The rest of the day was like that. God bless the children who did their work as though flying books are normal. And Magical, who narrated the whole thing in case we didn't know what we were doing. (D just ran out of the room? Oh man. V won't come in? Oh boy. Mrs Lipstick is mad? Oh no!)

Independence

Magical is working on being independent with his self help skills. Every time he leaves the bathroom he asks for someone to button him back up without attempting to do it first. Today I told him that I would only help him if he tried it himself first.
"Myself?" he asked, as though I was teaching him a new word.
"Yes, yourself."
He began waving his hands around his button while still staring wide-eyed at me.
"Magical, look down," I coached, modeling looking down for him.
He immediately dropped his eyes and his mouth fell open in disbelief as he watched his fingers almost close the button. Every time he came close to snapping it he'd look up at me in excitement, causing his hands to fall away from the button.
"I'm doing it myself!" he cheered every time right before he lost it. He was giddy with the power of closing his own snaps, yet too giddy to actually close the deal. Baby steps. Today was the idea of looking at what we do. Maybe tomorrow we'll tackle looking the whole time.

Reason #327 I love my class

I was chatting with our librarian the other day and she mentioned that one of the reasons she loves my class is because it gives them a peer group. It's so true. Although we want them to be with their typical peers, no one can deny the power of being around people that truly 'get' you.
Yesterday while they were suppose to be decorating paper gingerbread men so we could count and graph the circles, triangles, and squares they each used, Magical and another friend were busy giggling with one another. From an outsider's perspective (outsider being anyone but the two of them) they were not making any sense at all. But they were having an intense back and forth conversation- something they are both working on. Without any adult prompts they were listening and responding to each other without changing the silly topic, and were having a ball doing it. Not all children "get" Magical. They may be nice, share and talk to him, but what I witnessed yesterday was true friendship. The kind of friendship where you get in trouble with the teacher because you both are so invested in the conversation that you forget to do your work.
At the end of the day I was walking one of my almost non-verbal students out to kiss and ride when we ran into another of my almost non-verbal students. Their eyes lit up when they spotted each other. There were hugs, cheers, hellos and more hugs even though they'd just seen each other forty minutes before.
I love my class.