but what I really want to do is act June 1, 2011

Okay, no.  Joking.  What I really want to do is teach teachers.

I don’t want to get a PhD, however.  I’d totally suck at writing a dissertation (I could never get an A in college on any paper that was longer than 12 pages — I lost control of the form at that length), and to put it bluntly, I would not like to have professors of education as my colleagues.  Nor would I enjoy working at a school of education — most of our schools of education are subpar, including the ones I went to.

So I’m not sure how I’m going to teach teachers.  I ended up not loving the kind of mentor job I had last year — it was pretty tough, with lots of soul-sucking paperwork.

Last week, however, I had the experience of mentoring the way I want to do it.  There is a Spanish-speaking assistant teacher who helps out in lots of the different preK classes with kids who speak Spanish.  She works in my room, and has always been very complimentary.  (She says her grandson is going to be in my class, come hell or high water, once he turns four.)  She also works in the room of a teacher who is new to preK, and has been struggling all year with classroom management.  She pushed all year for the struggling teacher to come to my room to see how I do things, and last week, it finally got set up.

It was great.  Struggling Teacher (ST) was enthusiastic about the visit, had a notebook in her hand, and eagerly took notes and asked questions.  She arrived before the kids did, so we could talk about the room and the way it is set up.  (She was amazed at how well the set-up works, given that my classroom is so tiny.)  She was there when I opened the door, and she saw how lovely and peaceful our arrival time routine is.  As I went through our morning, I was able to give her little asides that explained why I was doing certain things.  She was happy, and I had fun.  I wonder how I could make that into a job……

First day at work August 23, 2010

I got back from a week-long trip to California after midnight on Saturday, and then slept in until 10:00 Sunday morning.  This morning?  6:45.  Ouch.

I left my husband to deal with the kids, their lunches, and getting them to their last camp of the summer, and went off to meet my new Americorps volunteer for breakfast.  The place I had planned to take her was closed, but she was really nice about it, and we found another restaurant for several cups of coffee and some classic breakfast food.

This year, in addition to an assistant teacher (who will not, sniff, be Miss Slinger), all of the preK teachers in the district will have a volunteer from the Americorps ranks.  Mine just graduated from college, where she majored in English Lit, so I think I will call her Miss Dickens, after one of her favorite authors.  Miss Dickens is very pretty, with big eyes and long lashes, and she likes action flicks as much as I do, so I think we will get along swimmingly.

We drove to school and as we entered, met a new first grade teacher whom I last saw ten years ago.  She remembered me and gave me a huge hug, and I think was glad to have at least one person she knows to help her navigate a new, large school.  Alas for my friend, however, she already pissed off the school secretary.  (Miss Dickens gave me a look — I had already told her that the school secretary is the most important person in the building.)  I have to find a way to help my friend the first grade teacher get back in the secretary’s good graces.

Our staff meeting was pleasant, although I kept forgetting people’s names, even people I know and like.  I suppose if you don’t think about someone for an entire summer, you can go blank on their name.  Or maybe it’s just me.  I did manage to introduce Miss Dickens and my old friend to lots of people, so I wasn’t a total failure.  The new principal (I’m just going to call her the Princess, as the old principal was referred to as the Prince here on my blog) led us through a short but sweet meeting, and we had plenty of time to work in our sweltering classroom.

Miss Dickens and I got lots of stuff done, including making tons of nametags, and tomorrow while Miss Mellow and I are at a staff development training, she will be laminating and trimming and copying away.  It feels like a real gift not to have to do everything myself.

flying with one engine burned out December 10, 2009

I mentioned that I have been sick.  The last few weeks have been difficult; I’ve been overcome with a bone-deep fatigue and had difficulty coping with….well, everything.  I was so tired I couldn’t even think straight about how weird this was and how maybe I should call my doctor.  The last straw was when I left the house to pick up my son at basketball practice last Thursday and couldn’t remember how to get to the gym, even though I have been there many times before.  I called a friend for directions and almost started crying.

I called in sick the next day.  (And Chutney sure did miss me.)

The good news is that there is an explanation.  The new medication I have been taking daily to try to prevent migraines (this would be attempt #5, including acupuncture and chiropractic) has hit me with some serious side effects.  I am now off the meds, and each day I am about 2% less exhausted.  At this rate it will be a long time before this stuff is out of my system.  But at least things are getting better.

Last week was particularly hard, I thought.  Marvelous Mittens Day wiped me out like it never has in the past.  We didn’t even get to the big make-a-mitten project that I always do on that day.  By Hot Chocolate Day, the kids were starting to act up, and that worried me.  This class is so angelic!  Something really must be wrong for them to be even close to the bratty side.  And what was wrong, you ask?  Their teacher wasn’t behaving like herself.

That was the other thing that got me to go to the doctor.  If the kids were being affected by my exhaustion and my lack of focus, then I really needed to find out what was wrong and pull myself together.

This week I mentioned to Miss Slinger, “Don’t you think things are getting better?  I feel like things are falling back into place now that I have a little bit more energy.”

She said, “Actually, I never thought they were that bad.  I knew you were really tired, but I thought things were going fine.”

?!

I thought about that a minute and admitted, “I can be pretty hard on myself.”  Last week I wasn’t up to MY usual standard, and that really frustrated me.  Maybe no one else noticed, but I did.  I felt guilt about not doing my best for the children, and not doing my best as a teacher, and that was wearing me down, too.

Which brings my train of thought to its conclusion.  Maybe one of the most important things you need to be a good teacher is to be self-reflective.  I have been trying to mentor a few teachers lately who seem entirely incapable of looking at their teaching and wondering how they could learn something new, or how to improve.  I find that way of thinking really foreign, and am at a loss as to how to proceed with them.

I can always see how I could have done something better.  Maybe that is what has made me into a good teacher?

love my job; don’t want to go to work tomorrow November 15, 2009

The mentoring part of my job is getting me down.  It bothers me that I have to do so much paperwork.  It bothers me that I have to spend so much time doing observations and conferences that I don’t really get to do much coaching.  It bothers me that I don’t know if I’m actually being helpful to anyone.  It bothers me that I’m asking teachers to do extra work and they haven’t been paid (nor have I) for all the points they earned last year doing this program.

It bothers me that I can’t just shut the door and concentrate on my four year olds.

This is the week I’m going to go in and talk to the Prince, and let him know that this will be the last year I’m a mentor, unless things change for the better.

On my worst days, I don’t know if what we’re doing has helped at all.

snapshots of the day November 4, 2009

*Cherry and Chutney got bus write-ups last week that showed up in my mailbox only this morning.  They were defiant to the bus driver and refused to sit down on the bus.  And Cherry called Chutney the B word.

*A staffer whose grandson is in my class told me that he had really paid attention to my lesson yesterday.  I tried to remember what lesson that might have been.  She said, “he knows all the three-dimensional shapes now.  He told me, ‘did you know that the other name for a ball shape is a sphere?’ and also told me about cubes, cylinders, and cones.”  I was tickled.  Someone was listening!

*Plum showed up after two days at home and burst into tears.  “What’s wrong, honey?” “I…want…my…DADDY!” she sobbed.  She sobbed all the way to the local library, so, for the first hour of the morning.  At the library she sat on Miss Slinger’s lap whimpering, and then fell asleep in her arms.  I spent most of story time trying to track down her parents, who finally showed up when we were back at school.

*I got a new student, who moved to my class from the afternoon class.  She knows Miss Slinger, and the room, but not me.  She was dressed in a t-shirt and a thin sweatshirt today, and it was very cold out (in the 30s).  I tried to give her a jacket to wear to the library, but she refused.  I gave her a partner to hold hands with, and she refused.  So she held my hand all the way there.  Miss Mellow told me later that the new girl is very moody, that mom didn’t show up for her parent conference — twice — and that the girl came to school once with a warm jacket, and not again since.

*Because of very poor test scores, the third through fifth grade teams were shaken up, and a few teachers were removed from classroom teaching (they will be doing supplemental teaching instead).  At least one teacher was in tears.  Emotions were running high.  I wish the Prince had done this back in June, but I think he did the right thing, better late than never.  It’s inexcusable when certain teachers’ students don’t make a year’s worth of progress.  Our students are so far behind they really need to make well more than a year’s progress.  Less than a year?  Shameful.

*We read Knuffle Bunny for the second time (I’m back to doing Repeated Interactive Readalouds), and at the end, I asked, “have you ever lost something?”  After we heard about a lost ball and a lost car, I told them about a time when I lost my favorite mittens.  Pumpkin looked very concerned.  He raised his hand.  “Teacher, I can give you my red mittens.  Let me go get them for you.”  And he was about to get up before I stopped him, and assured him that I have since replaced the lost mittens.  He tried again at dismissal time to give me his red mittens.  So sweet.

*Zucchini had so much fun at recess that he forgot to tell me he needed to go pee.  He had a change of clothes in his backpack — but the pants were shorts!  So the poor kid went home in a warm jacket, hat, mittens, boots….and shorts.

*I visited Miss Mellow’s class, with her okay, to talk to them about all the stuff in the room, and how most of it is stuff I paid for.  I talked to them about respecting books, and how to take care of them, and where to put them (the Mo Willems books go in the Mo Willems box, not the ABC box, and the farm books go on the shelf, not in the color box).  I also showed them how to clean up the house corner and where everything goes there.  Later Miss Slinger told me that they did a much better job of clean up after their centers time.

*I spent two hours finishing writing up a post-observation report.  It made me cranky.  I don’t think I want to be a mentor next year.

my brain is on fire October 7, 2009

I put out the fire with a nice glass of wine at the end of a loooong day, so now I’m just scorched.  Let’s look back on the day, shall we?

I started my day with a meeting.  (Always a great start.) I have a weekly meeting of mentor teachers, master teachers, and administrators.  The master teachers and administrators meet the day before to go through weekly business, and they make decisions for us to approve or not.  It cuts down on our Wednesday meeting time, so I appreciate that.

But.  Actually, I started my day at home, checking my work email, and reading an email about the agenda for the meeting.  And it made me furious.  It said that I had asked that the number of  observations I have to conduct be reduced (which I did not!) and that my request had been refused.  When I got there, we had to get through the first two agenda items, and then we got to the one that referenced me.  Here’s more or less what I said:

“I was quite surprised to read my colleague’s email about the business items to discuss.  I feel that I have been rather grievously misunderstood.  It appears that you discussed a request that I did not make, and that you did not discuss the request that I did make.  While I’m sure I said last week that I have too many observations to do, at no point did I ever request that you lower my number of observations.

“I wouldn’t dream of doing such a thing, for if I did, it would mean that the rest of you would have to do even more observations than you are currently scheduled for.  What I did request — and what you somehow failed to discuss yesterday — was that you figure out if we think it is more important to get into teachers’ classrooms to do coaching, or if we think it is more important to get all the observations done.  Given that we have fewer mentor teachers than ever, we have more observations to do in less time.  I had hoped to do some actual coaching, and am concerned that it will not be possible.  At any rate, I think it is important that we make a conscious decision, one way or the other.  And I did suggest, as a creative measure, that we reduce all teachers’ observations from three to two, which would mean fewer observations for each of us to do, which would free us up for more coaching.”

Alas, it appears that the rules will not let us reduce the number of observations for each teacher, which means that I have seven observations to do in five weeks.  Given that each observation requires a pre-observation conference, a 45-60 minute observation, 2-3 hours for writing up the evidence to prepare for the post-observation conference, and then the post-observation conference itself, I have at least 5 hours I will have to spend on each one, and that means 35 hours worth of work in the next five weeks totally aside from my teaching.

AUGH!!

The meeting moved on, and we switched to looking at the rubric for lesson plans.  It was a good idea — I’m not sure I ever read that part of our handbook, and I’m sure we as a team have never discussed what makes a good lesson plan before.  One of the master teachers showed a typical lesson plan from one of our teachers one the document camera, and we used the rubric to score it.  The problem?  This lesson plan, which looks a lot like mine (although not as detailed), and a lot like 90% of my colleagues’ lesson plans, got a 1 from all of us.  (1, for those of you unfamiliar with rubrics, is bad.  3 is good, 5 is exemplary.)  It didn’t reference the standards, it didn’t mention anything about differentiation, and it didn’t show anything like closure.

On the one hand, it seems like a good idea to take a good look at our lesson plans, and see if they are good enough.  On the other hand, my lesson plan is a working document that serves ME.  It’s my road map, my schedule, my list of what to do, in what order, and when.  There is another kind of lesson plan — the kind that you write out for one activity (usually when you are going to be observed) that lists in detail your objectives, the standards you are addressing, the differentiation you will do — but really, what teacher every does that for every day, every lesson?  It’s just not possible.

The meeting ended four minutes before my babies were to arrive, so I managed to get two minutes in the room to check in with Miss Slinger and go AUGH about the meeting.  After a really busy morning (during which a little girl reported that Pumpkin had said he hated me — which doesn’t seem to fit his personality, somehow, but prompted a little discussion with him about how it’s okay to be mad at your teacher sometimes, that everybody gets mad sometimes), and a quick lunch, I found a little time to work on the lesson plan conundrum.  Ms. Mellow took her afternoon class to lunch, so I spread out at a table in the room with my plan book, my math curriculum, and my folder full of stuff about teaching Fire Safety, and sat down to write an exemplary (or at least acceptable) lesson plan.

It was fun, actually.  I have been planning ahead (I know, will miracles ever cease?!), so I wrote out the plan for the week after next.  I had to write even smaller than usual to cram everything in — all the standards that my lessons meet, all the details, my goals for the week, and so on.  I’m going to make copies of it tomorrow, along with copies of my lesson plan for this week, written before the meeting today, and give them to the rest of the team.  I figure this will give us some fuel for our discussion.

Because while it was cool that I — for the first time ever — wrote my lesson plans with the standards at my fingertips, it took me more than an hour to write them.  Since it usually takes me 20-30 minutes, I’m not too sure that I’ve got the time for this kind of detail each week.  And frankly, if we tell the staff they have to do their plans this way, I think we could have a full-scale rebellion on our hands.

I also spent an hour each in two first grade classrooms, where I saw that both teachers have worked miracles in the last three weeks, that behavior is well under control, and some terrific learning is going on.

Then I went back to keep working on my lesson plans, until I realized it was ten minutes past the time when I was supposed to pick up my 9 year old from after-school care, and take him home with stops at the grocery store and the library on the way.

The only blessings were that at the grocery store I saw one of my students, who ran full-speed down the bags/wrap/plastic containers aisle to throw herself into my arms, and that there was that glass of wine waiting for me when I got home.

back to mentoring September 18, 2009

This year I am once again mentoring/coaching other teachers.  I know there are plenty of ways that I can improve, and one thing I’m trying to do is to be more organized about my time, and communicate more often with my teachers.  I’ve started sending out a weekly email with my schedule, and whose classrooms I will visit, and when.  The teachers have responded well to it and a few have even said thanks, which tells me I didn’t communicate this sort of thing to them well enough last year.

The first week I went to the kindergarten classrooms, and was delighted to see that the well-deserving K teachers have a more mellow group.  Last year and the year before were somewhat challenging (two years ago at this time the kindergartners were like wild wolf puppies, tumbling and wrestling on the floor, in all three classrooms, and last year was only a bit better), but the K kids I saw were listening to their teachers and participating in their storytimes.

Then this past week I went to first grade.  One teacher was putting tape on the floor in three rows, to mark where the kids should sit, which is an idea he got from me last year.  I was pleased to see that at least once, I did something useful!  His class was mellow, but the other two were more challenging.  My job is to assist teachers in improving the quality of their teaching in general, and to help them with readers’ workshop and writers’ workshop in particular.  Behavior management is not part of my brief, but sometimes that has to be done before the teachers can settle in to teach reading or writing.

Next week I’ll make my visits to second grade, and then I’ll be visiting on a regular schedule to observe and coach.

life as a mentor teacher, part two November 19, 2008

So I never posted about my experience visiting first grade and teaching a math lesson to that class of wigglers….

Last Thursday, after having demonstrated an interactive read-aloud to my peers at a meeting before school, I left the meeting early and went to first grade, where I talked to the teacher about the lesson to be sure I understood what I was supposed to do.  Next I rushed to my classroom, where I greeted my kids and got them sent off to art class.  Then I had a few minutes to prepare for the math lesson. 

I saw the assistant principal in the hall and grabbed her.  “Could you take a look at this?  Is this a lesson objective, or am I merely describing the activity?”  We had talked about it at our mentors’ meeting the day before, and I wanted to be sure I was modeling my lesson objective correctly.  The AP and I stared at the document on my computer screen and then figured out how to strengthen what I had written.  I hit print and raced off to first grade.

It went well.  I had already placed three lines of tape on the floor, having noticed that in a large circle, many of the wigglers were not facing their teacher and weren’t willing to make the effort to turn their heads and pay attention.  The kids were pretty interested in the change, and sat down in three nice rows for me. 

Next change:  I passed out trays, paper, and pencils, so that they could work sitting right there in the meeting area.  (On my previous visit I noticed that once the kids were at the tables, the screen was too far away for them to pay attention.)  Trays are awesome.  I have been using former airline meal trays for about 13 years.  In preK they can be used as a writing surface, the way I used them in first grade, but they are also great as a workspace.  (At our lego table, no one is allowed to touch anyone else’s tray — let alone take someone’s legos.)

Third change — I used a document camera.  The teacher was accustomed to using an overhead projector, but in order to beam the image onto the screen, the o.p. had to be on a cart right in the middle of the meeting area, making it impossible for the kids to sit there.  Doc cams are great, as they can be over on the side.  I used it to share my lesson objectives (“by the end of the lesson, you will be able to…”), and then to model the activity. 

K-5 is using Investigations this year, which I am not familiar with, as preK uses a different curriculum for math, but I hear good things from my fellow teachers (unlike the bad old days when we had Everyday Math, which Everyone Hated).  In this lesson, I showed the children a shape for 5 seconds, and then hit the a/v mute button so the screen went blank, and asked them to draw the shape from memory.  It was surprisingly challenging for them, and some really struggled (and a few really wiggled), but by and large, I had their attention, and we made it through together.

This week, I notice that the three lines are still on the floor, and the teacher is still using the document camera.  So I smile a little to myself and hope that I was helpful.

life as a mentor teacher, part one November 13, 2008

So I got to school this morning at 8, already nervous about presenting a math lesson in first grade at 10.  There was an 8:20 staff development workshop before school, school started at 9:30, and I wouldn’t have much time to prepare for my visit to first grade.

I checked my email and saw that I was supposed to present/model an interactive readaloud at the meeting, which I had agreed to in passing a week ago, but hadn’t heard about since.  Swearing at the computer, and feeling some adrenaline surge through my body, I dug out the repeated interactive read-aloud (RIRA) lesson plan for Swimmy (by Leo Lionni) that I wrote last year.

The mentor teacher in charge of the meeting gave a good intro to interactive read-alouds as part of the Reader’s Workshop model, and then I got up to make my (un-prepared) presentation.

It went really well.  I am comfortable in front of groups, and I know my stuff, and it didn’t hurt that right before I went up a first grade teacher said to the woman in charge, pointing at me, “she’s a master at this.”  I spoke passionately about the importance of reading aloud to children with purpose.

In a repeated interactive read-aloud, you prepare ahead of time the vocabulary you want children to know, the (thoughtful) questions you will ask, and the comments you will make to model for children how good readers think about what they are reading.  As to the vocabulary, it drives me crazy when teachers stop reading, ask, “does anybody know what ‘swift’ means?” and then try and try to pull the answer out of the kids when the truth is, not one child knows the meaning of the word.  I said, “In a first read-aloud, it really slows things down if you try to get the kids to tell you the meanings of the words.  This time through, you stop to carefully — but quickly — define or act out the words, so that by the third read-aloud, the children can do it.”

I then read the story, using my lesson plan, and inserted vocabulary support and commentary throughout.  Several teachers asked questions, and I sat down, tired and relieved.

Later on, when I left work for the day, the Prince stopped me.  “That was really good this morning,” he said.  “Anyone would be lucky to be in your class.”

life on the rollercoaster September 24, 2008

Anyone reading this who is already a teacher (I know I have some fledgling teachers reading this blog, as well as some non-teachers) knows what teaching is like.  Teachers are well-acquainted with the experiences of being bombarded by stimuli all day, of needing to think of 100 things at a time, and having to make decisions constantly. 

So teachers, you can skip today’s post.  You’ve been there, done that.  This is for the non-teachers.

Today was a better day, because David was not there, and Max had had a long talk about his behavior with his parents, and was determined to do better.  But it was still hard, so here, in list form, are just some of the things that I was juggling this morning:

• Driving into parking lot, see school psychologist driving out.  Stop and roll down window.  Ask him if he heard about what happened yesterday.  He says no, so I tell him, and then he says he is working on finding a different placement for David.  I park my car with sense of relief that I am being taken seriously.
• Go to yet another meeting before school, this time for the mentoring leadership team’s weekly gathering.  I have become the unofficial timekeeper, and as such, try to steer discussions back on track, to keep us moving through the agenda, and to help find conclusions and consensus on each item.  I am praised for that by a colleague, which I really appreciate, although I admit to him, “I know that what this really means is that I’m bossy!”
• Find kindergarten teacher whose room I’m supposed to visit during my prep, and ask her if I can bow out, even though I have just seen note from her asking me to read a story to class when I arrive as she has laryngitis.  Bow and scrape and apologize for not coming.  She is very nice about it, and sympathetic to my description of my room being “in freefall.”  Listen to her scratchy voice.  Feel guilty.
• Return to the classroom to find both Nan and Miss Nelson, and a stranger (Miss Nelson’s mentor).  Introduce myself to stranger, who is sitting at my desk, using my computer, so I cannot.  Damn, can’t check email.  Very little time to talk to them or get the room ready before I opening the door to the children.
• Greet two more new students (that’s three this week, and four since last week), both girls, only one of whom speaks English.  Beg the social worker to help, but she can’t, so her intern comes into the room to help children sign in and move their nametags.
• Oops, nametags in the wrong place!  Rush over and move them.
• Note that sign-in line is not moving.  See that Boy A is standing there with pencil hovering over sign-in book, frozen.  Intern does not know what to do.  Tell Boy A to make a mark, any mark, which he does, and usher him to move his nametag to “Who’s Here?”
• Find pencil to get next child in line to sign in.
• Take new girls to hall to find their cubbies.  See that only one has a cubby.
• Go into room to get new cubby sign, write new girl’s name on it, help her find cubby and tape her sign in place.
• Note that we have two minutes to get to Gym.  Turn off lights, say, “One, Two, Three, Freeze!” and explain to new girls how to freeze, cross arms, and look at me for directions.  Tell class it’s time to go.
• Turn on lights, line up children alphabetically, finding spaces for new girls.
• Downstairs meet gym teacher in cafeteria (gym is next to cafeteria), so warn him that there are new students, hand over class, and take one new girl to talk to Spanish-speaking teacher who is helping out with breakfast.  Ask, “could you ask her how to pronounce her name?”  Answer is inconclusive.
• Drop girl off in gym and go upstairs with Nan, who says she can help during prep.
• Sit down at desk (yay, she’s gone!) and feel unfamiliar sense of calm descend.  Am alone in room with Nan, my friend, who asks, “what can I do?”  Give Nan many many things to do. 
• Hour passes in a flash.  Cannot remember single thing that happens during prep.
• Pick up class in gym.  Find out that new girl says her name is Lola.  We already have a Lola!  Turns out her first name is name I was given, but family at home calls her Lola, her middle name.  Make mental note to find Spanish-speaking employee to call home to find out what we should call her at school.
• Back in room, children finish journals, but wander aimlessly when done.  Repeatedly give instructions to “find a book and sit down in your chair!”  Note that I never labeled the books on the shelf now that they are all books about color.  Wonder when I am going to find time to do that.
• Start writing morning message.  Get interrupted several times. 
• “Teacher, the bug is back!”  Go over to terrarium to see one sowbug.  Notice that he is not moving, and hope that he is alive but just resting.  Try to write morning message.  Give up halfway through.
• Start cleanup time.  Get frustrated with children visiting the sowbug instead of cleaning up and coming to sit down.
• Boy B and Boy C, who were fighting over Superhero ABC earlier, are now fighting over Knuffle Bunny.
• Horrible tearing sound as Knuffle Bunny gets torn in two.
• Feel like crying or yelling.  Do neither, but cannot help sounding mad.  Boy C starts to wail.  Send both boys into hall with Nan to discuss situation.  Make note to self ask Spanish speaker to call Boy B’s mother to tell her what happened and ask for $2 to help cover cost.  Make note to self to call Boy C’s mother and tell her same thing.  Make note to self to order new copy of Knuffle Bunny from Scholastic book order.  Which reminds me I haven’t sent in payment for September order, so make note to self to do that.  Soon.
• Start morning meeting without being ready.
• Find out during playing of song about colors (from math curriculum) that boom box is dying.  Instead of loving the song, everyone cringes with weird noises cd player makes.  Make note to self to buy new boom box.  Or try to play cd on computer.  Remember time last year when I tried to do that and computer would not eject cd.  Give up train of thought and move on to next thing.

I think I’ll stop there, although that recounting does not include Max’s anger at having to go with the physical therapist and how he picked up a brick in a threatening way, or how he knocked over a bunch of stuff when sent to time out later on, or what happened during centers time, or story time, or dismissal, or how I made it to the office with a list of three Spanish-speaking families to call for different reasons.

I will say this.  I dug out My Friend is Sad, by my buddy Mo Willems, and read it at story time with great enthusiasm.  So we did end on a happy note.  The children laughed, and I smiled, and then I sent them home.