i need to go back to work

over break i tried to diagnose my brother's kitten with adhd due to its clear lack of focus in following a mouse on a string. this led to a debate with my mother (also an educator) over whether or not there was possible brain damage.

i then tried to diagnose my own kitten with asperger's syndrome since she really isn't dealing well with the changes in household routines that came from the holidays. right now she's pouting because i'm not already asleep as i should be by 10pm on a school night. she's avoiding eye contact and doing some self-stim of cleaning herself over and over again.

then again, she's been eating our fake christmas tree made in china, so she could have lead poisoning.

anyone else want to bring their cat over for my clearly intelligent diagnosis? i'll be writing up kitten ieps for the next few days.
i need to either go back to work where i can work with kids, or get a grip on reality.

Weee! .

Subtitle: What happens when children are only allowed to watch PBS

(Please note the 'hungry, hungry hippos wee game along with the backgammon and solitaire sets)

This is what my husband and I got for Christmas from my brothers (seniors in college). The picture does not do it justice. The wee remote is a handle of a phone (a working phone... my dad and I are fighting about whether or not I get to keep the remote or if it has to be returned to its original use). This is my favorite Christmas present by far, and extremely fitting if you know my family.

We grew up in a 10 acre forest in the middle of nowhere. We were one of the last houses to have the original Nintendo system. Instead of getting us the trendy system, my parents dusted off an old Atari and tried to convince us it was even better than what our friends had. We were always told that "we didn't get cable" which was why our ancient remote-less tv only showed the news and PBS. So, we had to resort to creating our own tv and video-game-less fun which usually involved cardboard boxes in some way or another.

Now that we're adults and can do what we wish, when we wish, we apparently still spend hours making fake game systems just as we did as kids. What's Christmas without turning cardboard boxes into the toys we desire most of all?

My brothers included a check for an actual wii so that when we're actually able to find one in a store we can buy one. Still, opening the fake wee on Christmas was far more exciting than if it had been a real one. And I imagine they had a lot more fun making the wee than if they'd spent hours standing in line fighting for a real one.

A few weeks ago a mother of one of my former students stopped me in the hallway and said, "You have no idea the influence you had on my son!" I start patting myself on the back for his reading or math skills. But then she started to sound more like my own mother, "If I want to throw out a box I have to sneak it past him! He uses every box in the house to make some toy. He's even making cardboard versions of what he wants for Christmas in case he doesn't get it."

When I was a classroom teacher I had a "creation station" where I would keep old cardboard boxes. When children had time they could use the boxes to make houses, cars, and beds for stuffed animals, etc. This was obviously inspired from my own childhood memories, and I was thrilled when this mom reported this little one had carried on the tradition despite game systems and tv being readily available. Maybe when he's 21 he'll spend hours changing a cardboard box into the latest hard-t0-find game system.

Now that I'm older I realize how lucky I was to have parents who didn't give into the latest trends, or how easy it would have been to keep us busy with the tv. Thanks for putting up with all our cardboard creations!

Christmas Joy

So much of Christmas is about Joy. The joy that Jesus was born, the joy of being with family, the joy of having Santa Claus come down your chimney by magic.
Sitting in the Christmas Eve service tonight I found my mind wandering, wondering about my little ones' Christmas Eve. Are they bouncing off the walls while their parents try to read the Christmas Story to them? Are they at Mass, swinging their legs in the pews? Are they having a simple dinner, Eid being over, wondering what all the fuss is about tomorrow? My thoughts fell on one of my froglets. On Friday, in the height of the pre-Christmas chaos I asked him what he thought Santa Clause would bring him.
"No Santa" he said. Sadness, I thought, he already doesn't believe.
"Santa, 5 minutes" he said. "Right? No time." No time? I started to get confused.
"Other houses. No time me. 5 minutes. No time me."

My heart broke. He believes in Santa, yet he believes Santa Claus doesn't have time for him. He's not worthy of Santa. No wonder he doesn't pick his head off the desk, or bother to try to learn to read. Other children may deserve Santa, but he doesn't.
Our school gives him presents every year in our giving tree. But somehow he doesn't believe they come from Santa. The magical man skips his house, too busy to bother with this little boy. For him this night holds no magic, no joy.

I sat in church listening to the message of hope and joy God sent to us and prayed that God sends this little one some joy tomorrow. It doesn't have to be in the form of a magical man in red, or even in the form of presents. Just some joy to let him know that he deserves joy, deserves to be happy, and is a special one of God's children.

a responsive classroom christmas miracle

Yesterday in one of the classrooms where I co-teach we were giving the kiddos popcorn in little bags while they watched the Polar Express. Before the movie had even started one of my little ones dropped his bag on the floor and popcorn went everywhere. We are working on controlling our anger but at that moment he broke down and went off into a corner.

We had no more popcorn and in fact had given the children very tiny amounts of popcorn to begin with. (It was 9am). Their teacher asked if they would like to give him some of their pieces since now he didn't have any. They didn't have to, but it would be nice if they did. They immediately got out of their chairs and rushed to him to offer him their snack. We tried to organize this to keep it from getting out of control and sent them back to their seats where we could pass a little bag~ church style~ if they would like to donate to him.

I got chills as they rushed to fill his little bag with popcorn. In the end we had to ask them to stop because they wouldn't have had any left for themselves. This was a little boy that isn't easy to like as a peer, and most likely dropped his bag due to his gross motor skills, which is hard to understand when you're 6. None of that stopped them. They rushed to help the member of their classroom who needed help at that time.

no eggs allowed

Our school's speech/language clinician (also my fabulous research partner) told me that she had been working with two of my kiddos from last year. They were making a list of items they could bring to the class party the following day. In the middle of the lesson one blurted out, "But no egg at school!"

Random? No. He began recounting the egg-breaking incident from last year and reminded her that Mrs. Lipstick said raw eggs are not alright to bring to school.

If nothing else, at least they learned something last year.

teacher presents

I have to be honest (and maybe this makes me sound greedy and selfish) but I love teacher presents. The tackier the better. I love opening bags in front of the little ones, watching their excited eyes fill with pride as they show me what they picked out themselves from the dollar store. Perhaps if I taught at a school where the families were better off I wouldn't like it as much, but from these families every present is a geniune surprise, and you can't help being touched by the effort and thought they put into it.

My Christmas tree is full of presents I converted into ornaments. What else to do with the large shiny blue flower necklace? Or the plastic 'crystal ball' given to me to "hang from my mirror in my car like my daddy"? The tree is a place where they'll come out every year, remind me of the great kid who gave them to me, and warm my heart for a few weeks.

My favorite gift of all time was an animal from build-a-bear with the little boy's voice recorded to say, "To Miss L, From M. God Bless Us Everyone." I also have a shelf in my office with my treasured ceramic dollar store gifts... an African American bride doll, a swam vase, a small flower pot, a bright blue cat. There are others I admit baffle me... (the used curling iron) but regardless when I think of the child and the family I get chills at the generosity expressed in the gift.

I feared this year that since I am no longer in the classroom I wouldn't receive presents. It's not that I have a desire to get lots of gifts or am greedy, it's just that I so enjoy watching a little one fill with pride when he sees you open his present. I still received a few, the highlight being the Day of the Week earrings from a kindergartner. (As requested, I am currently wearing Friday's yellow plastic triangles). I got a beautiful purse from China, an alarm clock, and a napkin holder. The child who gave me the napkin holder informed me I can use it to hold my mail to help me organize myself. hmmmm... I also received a gift certificate to Victoria Secret. It was overly generous and so sweet. The little girl however, is still waiting to hear what I buy and asked me every day this week when I was going to go pick something out for myself... good thing they sell lotion! (I have heard of teachers receiving Victoria Secret gifts the children picked out themselves... NOT lotion. I'm not sure how I would handle that one).

I guess I feel like a kid the day after Christmas tabulating his loot, but I have to admit, the teacher presents do make my day.

prayer in schools?

as we sat down at lunch club today my little angel exclaimed, "NOBODY EAT YET! We have to pray!"

i reminded him of the school rules on organized prayer (as much as you can explain that to a kindergartner) but pointed out that if he wanted to pray before he ate he was more than welcome to do so.

he smiled, folded his hands above his mac and cheese on the pink styrofoam lunch tray and said loudly,

"DEAR LORD. THANK YOU FOR THIS FOOD WE ARE GOING TO EAT. AND THANK YOU FOR THIS DAY THAT MRS LIPSTICK WHO TOOK US TO LUNCH. AMEN".

how does that not warm your heart and bring tears to your eyes?

unfortunately his prayer was so loud the other children went ahead and bowed their heads as well. so much for no organized prayer.

we'll have to work on praying quietly as not to force other people into religious practices...