Touching the octopus and other acts of bravery February 24, 2012

Yesterday was another hard day.  Our one child is in a tailspin, presumably because things are very bad at home, and brings to our peaceful little classroom a tornado of terror, rage, and stress.  The three adults are barely coping, and it feels terrible.

But.  It does help to look for good things that are happening, in spite of it all.  And yesterday’s Good Thing was when Crow touched the octopus.

Last fall when we studied animals, the afternoon teacher brought in some really cool plastic animals, each about 7 inches long.  There was an octopus and a lobster in the collection, and Crow freaked out.

“I’m scared of the octopus!  I’m scared!” he would say over and over.  He loves blocks, but couldn’t play there when those two animals were out.  So we hid them away, and the children just played with the alligator and polar bear and the rest of the animals.  And that was that for quite a while.

Our water table plug has a leak, so we can no longer have water in it.  Recently, the afternoon teacher filled it with cotton balls and a tub of little sea animals (yes, it’s a weird combo, but the kids love it).  Crow soon discovered that there was a tiny (1 1/2 inch) octopus in with all the fish and turtles and sharks.

“I’m scared of the octopus!  I’m scared!”  He couldn’t play in the water table, even though he wanted to, and sometimes if he was in the house corner and looked over, one of the mischievous boys would hold it up just to see his reaction.

Yesterday, he kept saying he wanted to play at the water table.

“Honey, I don’t think that’s such a good idea.  The octopus is there.”  But he kept insisting, so I changed my tune.  “You want to go to the water table?  Okay.  The octopus is there, but that’s okay, because you are NOT afraid of the octopus.”

He nodded.  “Not scared of the octopus.”

Crow went to the water table, and played.  The octopus was hidden in the cotton balls, and the other kids didn’t look for it, out of kindness.  Every once in a while Crow would get frightened and back away, but with some soothing, would go back.  The octopus showed up, and he backed away, but the kids helped him to return.  Then a while later, I heard the kids calling me.

“Mrs. X.!  Crow touched the octopus!”  And there he was, with the octopus sitting on the table next to the water table, proudly touching it carefully with his index finger.

I ran and got my cell phone to take a picture for eternity.  Then at story time, we talked about it, and the whole class applauded Crow.

Later, our troubled student got on the bus to go home, without a tantrum or running away, as happened the other days this week.  That was brave, too.

it is hard to be an angry, stressed-out preschooler February 9, 2012

Little One is struggling, and we are struggling right along with her.  For about two weeks now, she has gone way backward in terms of her behavior.  She comes in sad, or manically happy, which soon veers into tears or yelling.  She desperately wants the other girls to like her, but almost seems determined to screw things up in one social situation after another.  She doesn’t do it on purpose, of course, it just seems that way.

I realized at breakfast that I know now why we three (my assistant and my Americorps member and me) have been sooo tired lately.  It has been 2 or 3 weeks since Little One and Crow have started spiraling out of control.  What is normally a really smoothly-running classroom, with all transitions and routines accomplished with ease, is now a place with little brush fires popping up all over the place.

Yesterday at cleanup time, the kids who were done headed over to the meeting area to sit down for story time.  The adults weren’t over there yet, but were still helping various groups clean up their centers.  Suddenly a little girl I’ll call Blue Jay started to sob, loudly.  It turns out the when walking over, Blue Jay accidentally bumped into another girl.  Little One took it upon herself to yell in Blue Jay’s face to scold her.  Had Little One not intervened in something that was not her business, Blue Jay probably would have followed our classroom script:  ”I’m sorry, it was an accident.  Are you okay?”

Anyway, instead of starting a story, I had a sobbing child in my arms, and Little One angry about being in trouble, again, and stomping away, refusing to rejoin the class.  (Although she did say “Sorry” to Blue Jay, because Blue Jay is one of the girls Little One adores and wants to be friends with.)

At another cleanup time recently, the kids in the block corner were being very slow, as usual.  Kids who wanted to sit down in the meeting area couldn’t, because it still had blocks strewn around.  They are supposed to wait on the side until there is room to sit down.  Instead of sitting down in her spot, where there were no more blocks, Little One waded into the crowd to start cleaning up blocks.

“No,” I told her.  ”You weren’t in blocks, you’re not supposed to put the blocks away.  Go sit in your spot.”  I admit I didn’t say it in the calmest, most patient voice.  My patience is frayed these days.

Little One refused to stop, so I had to say it again, even more firmly this time.

She stomped over to her spot and sat down, and with tears running down her face, said, “I’m mad at you!  You’re mad at me!”

(Just to explain, in my room the rule at clean up is you clean up your own center, and when that center is all clean, you come sit down.  You don’t go to other centers and clean up; I find that is a delaying tactic and I want all kids to come sit as soon as possible.  The Clean Up King or Queen of the week gets to help everyone, and that is considered a very coveted and honored job.)

Meanwhile, Crow is hitting kids, almost every day.  Never for any reason.  He is confused and seems to be making no progress at all.  It is sad and frustrating.

heart attack of the day: three of my babies outside by themselves October 11, 2011

When it was time to line up and go home today, I was on my own.  My assistant was at a literacy training, and my Americorps volunteer was on her lunch break.  I had my three little ones who ride bus 2 wait on the hall bench, and I tried lining up the rest of the class, who ride bus 1.  Finally I asked the bus 2 kids to go up ahead and wait by the (always locked) door, while I brought along the rest.  When the line was finally ready, we headed toward the door where — no one was waiting for me.

I raced down the hall, with my kids following me, and unlocked the door to outside, where I discovered that bus 2 was right there, and the three kids had gotten on it.  Thank goodness for that bus driver.  The question is:  how did they get outside?!

The only possible explanation is that an adult who works in my building (and has keys) let them out, probably by accident, as they were going in or out the door.  GAH!  Who wouldn’t notice the three FOUR YEAR OLDS slipping out the door?  I emailed the Princess, who told the new AP, who came and interviewed me and took notes on The Incident.  I don’t think I’m in trouble, but boy do I feel awful.  I’m relieved it turned out so well, and I hope it never happens again.

breakfast can be terrifying September 20, 2011

It’s like Lord of the Flies downstairs in our cafeteria every morning.  Last year was the first year that our school breakfast became a madhouse, and it’s even worse this year.

The kids get off the bus, come in the door that’s closest to my classroom, and pass me on their way to the cafeteria.  I used to just wave my breakfast eaters on, and have them go straight down without stopping at their cubbies.  Last year, though, breakfast became so overwhelming that I had to get 8th grade helpers to gather up my little ones and escort them down.  Last year’s breakfast helpers were awesome.  This year’s helpers are always a little late, which means that by the time my breakfast kids get downstairs, the lines are long and crowded and crazy.

One little girl went down to breakfast on the first day of school, maybe because she thought she had to.  When she came up, she was sobbing.  The next day she arrived at school and started crying.  I asked her if she wanted breakfast, and she nodded yes, so I sent her down with a teacher.  The day after that, she was almost hysterical when she arrived.

“Honey, are you hungry?”

“No.”

“Did you eat breakfast at home?”

“Yeah,” she whispered.

“Then you don’t need to go downstairs to eat breakfast again!  Come on in the room and sign in.”  She brightened up immediately.  It took a few more days of emails back and forth with Mom (who was wondering, why doesn’t my daughter want to go to school?) and lots of reassurance to my fearful one that she did not have to go to breakfast in the cafeteria.

My tiniest boy (so small I have to lift him up to drink from the water fountain) came up from breakfast crying one day, because he had gotten lost in the crowd and separated from the 8th grade girl who was helping him.  I brought him back down and was appalled.  There were two lines for the two sides of the breakfast table, and both lines had kids pushing and shoving.  Lots of kids started budging ahead, so there was a crush at the front, and kids yelling at each other.  Some were even fighting.  I ended up taking one miscreant to his first grade teacher, once my little guy was safe at the table.

Why is there no adult keeping order with the lines?!  I asked the Princess, somewhat more diplomatically, and didn’t get much of a response.

If all my little ones become traumatized by the cafeteria, I would not be surprised.

now that was a margarita day if I ever had one September 10, 2011

Yesterday was even more difficult than I had expected.

I got to work early, but it still wasn’t early enough to get everything done before the big meeting.  The meeting was actually quite productive; Mom showed up, with Little One in tow, and Mom was very helpful.  (Little one came over and collapsed on my lap, not long after I had mentioned that I didn’t think she had any special relationship with me, as she was in class so little of the time.  It was amusing and sweet, but also concerning.  She hugs total strangers regularly, which makes me wonder if she is insecure and/or insecurely attached.)

All of the problems were laid out on the line, and the Princess was wonderfully blunt.  We ended up going with what the Princess said — we need to come up with a plan and do everything we can to help her be successful, and if that doesn’t work, we will talk about another setting.

We learned a lot from Mom, mainly that much of the behavior we’ve seen is not because she is overwhelmed and can’t help herself, but that it is deliberate and she is testing us.

We decided to start with a sticker chart for being in the right place at the right time (Mom said Little One loves stickers), and I put that into place right away that morning.  ”You’re in line for breakfast!  You get a sticker on your page…..You’re sitting down for morning meeting!  You get a sticker on your page.”  The sticker page and my setting firmer boundaries made an amazing difference.  She was calmer, behaved more appropriately, and was probably only NOT with us for about 10% of the time, which is a huge difference from the previous two days.

She was still very difficult, and exhausting.  I gave so much of my attention to her, and used so much effort to keep her on track, that the rest of the class started to fall apart.  They were really jealous of Little One’s stickers, and some of them pouted when I said that they would have to wait for another day.  They were hungry for my attention, and I had several children trying to talk to me or hug me at once for most of the morning.  Their neediness was exhausting, as was the way they stopped doing things they had just learned to do (“Get back in line, please!  No, come over here.  No, it’s not your turn yet,”  and so on).  I snapped at them a few times, and felt terrible about it.  I wished I had a clone.

To make things more difficult, my wonderful Americorps volunteer was at a training meeting, and my assistant and I were scrambling all morning.  Plus it was the day for Friday folders, but I hadn’t finished the newsletter yet.  I didn’t even get to look at my lesson plan before the day started, so after morning meeting I took the class outside and left them with the assistant teacher while I ran in and tried to find help.  I saw the school psychologist and asked, “Do you have ten minutes to spare?” and he answered, gallantly, “For you, I do.”  (Mental note:  it pays to be nice and to be appreciative of EVERYONE.)  He went out to help with recess while I quickly got the classroom ready for the next activity.

I never did get my margarita, but I did finish my day with a lovely glass of wine.

When the teacher gets sick October 4, 2010

So the horrible cold I had the week before last turned into a horrible sinus infection.  On Monday and Tuesday I was faltering, and by the time I went home on Wednesday I could barely stand up.  In fact, I had to get a ride home!  I stayed home (and in bed until 11:45 am) on Thursday, feeling guilty that it was still only September and I had missed three days of school.

I’m better, but still tired, and still having a nagging side effect — I keep forgetting my words.  I often can’t find the word I want in my brain, or I use the wrong word.  (This morning:  “Honey, if you’re going to the art center to paint, you need to put on an easel.”)  I know which twin is which, but I called them the wrong names several times today.

Meanwhile, the room is getting messier and messier, my piles are getting out of control (poor poor Ms. Mellow, who has to share a room with me), and at home, well, forget it.  My son went to my office to get my laptop yesterday, and when he came down he said, “Mom, I feel sorry for you.”  I asked why, and he replied, “that to do list on your desk is seriously long.”  I even had a brief anxiety spell yesterday.

How can I be such a mess when the year has barely begun?!

Open House Madness, 2010 edition August 26, 2010

When my new assistant and Miss Dickens and I were standing at the doorway to our room tonight at the end of Open House, waiting until the clock struck seven so we could close up and go home, I sighed, and said, “I would like to have a glass of wine as big as my head.”

I was worn out, people.  Worn out, I tell you!

Here’s a brief list of words and phrases to give you the essence of my day and evening: morning, messy room, clean clean clean, keyboard not working, mouse not working, second mouse not working, borrowed computer in room next door, all buses for my class totally screwed up, lunch provided by Princess for whole staff, looooong meeting about rules, realized have not been following many of those rules, resolve to do better, clean clean clean, rush rush rush, home, dinner, dress instead of jeans, back to school with fifteen minutes to spare, done with one minute to spare, open door, CROWD comes in, tiny room, lots of papers to fill out, camera, kids, babies, strollers, moms, dads, cousins, tell everyone that there is no bus home from my class for a whole week, wish Spanish was my second language, hugs from Apple and others from previous years, close door, leave building, meet new staffer who just graduated from my college, go home having made a new friend.  Wine.  Not as big as my head, but two whole glasses!

As for my new class, they seem sweet.  The only difficult child there is going to be in Miss Mellow’s class.  Ha!  The twins were there, as cute as ever, plus several really cute, shy, but awesome Latina girls, three blond boys, one extremely verbal boy who might be gifted, and….I forget who else.  Miss Mellow will have about 9 students, but I’ve got 17 officially and may have more.  Several people came in to say they are trying to get their kids in my class.

Tomorrow will be good.  It will quiet in my room, lots of stuff is already done, and maybe I can concentrate on lesson planning or reorganizing cabinets.

p.s.  Miss Dickens made art galleries for the morning and afternoon classes on the two doors leading into the kindergarten class next door, and she did a stunning, perfectionist job.  I told her how much I appreciate her persnickety attention to detail — I hate to have stuff in my room look messy.  Or off-center.  Or uneven.  Lucky for me she’s the same way.

summer blues, part two July 7, 2010

The beginning of summer can be a rough time for teachers.  It took me a while to figure out why year after year I wasn’t thrilled during the first week of summer, and why I was depressed, listless, and disorganized.

Finally I figured it out.  In one day, I went from a respected professional to a housewife.

At work I had great kids to be with, nice colleagues to talk to, and really interesting and challenging work.  At home, I had an incredibly long to-do list that contained items like “clean out garage attic” and “sort through every cupboard, closet and drawer in the entire house.”  At work I got positive feedback from parents, coworkers, and administrators.  At home I heard “today can you do these errands for me” and “Mom, can you drive me to ____?”

After a week or so, I get into my groove, and I jump in.  Yes, I’m cleaning and organizing and running errands.  But it is also true that I am reading lots of novels, savoring fresh summer fruit, eating outside with my family, enjoying glorious amounts of ice cream, sleeping late, and loving the slower pace.

A teacher’s calendar is perfect — we really do need summers to recuperate from what is a very difficult and exhausting job.  But….when summer ends, we are totally ready to go back to work, refreshed and energized, and eager to ignore those cupboards and drawers until the following year!

field day June 7, 2010

We had a lot of fun at Field Day, overall, but it was interesting to see that this class, my loveliest ever, was the also the class most overhelmed by our Field Day activities.

Lemon’s mom came to help, and Lemon immediately got super-anxious every time she couldn’t see her mom, starting at arrival time.  If her mom was in the hall, then Lemon couldn’t go into the classroom without her, without starting to cry.  Finally, I had to pull her aside.  “Honey, your mom isn’t going anywhere.  She is staying here to help us with Field Day.  She will not leave the school without you, and she will not leave you here by yourself.  She’ll be here until it is time to go home.  However, if you cannot stop crying and clinging to your mom, then I will have to ask her to go home, so that you will be able to calm down and participate in Field Day.  Do you understand.”

Lemon nodded, and stopped crying.  “One more thing, I want you to remember that if you can’t see your mom, it means that she took someone to the bathroom, or she is helping someone else out.  It will not mean that she left, okay?  She will be here with you until it’s time to go home.  Can you handle that?”

Lemon nodded again.  I dropped the class off with the prep provider, Lemon’s mom, and Miss Slinger, and ran around madly during my prep to get things organized.  When I went to join the class, Lemon was sobbing, and so was Plum.  It turned out that Lemon BIT Plum!  I don’t think she had any idea why she did it, and poor Plum didn’t, either.  I think Lemon was just overcome by her anxieties, which usually only show up when her mom is there.  Neither Lemon nor Plum would participate in the activities as we went station to station for at least another 20 minutes.

One of the boys started running wildly on the playground while waiting his turn to throw the basketballs in the garbage cans, and fell — of course — and screamed at the top of his lungs.  It took a trip to the nurse and quite a few bandaids to get him calmed down.

Plenty of girls were shy and wouldn’t try anything.  Finally they all warmed up, and we did have a good time.  Then we tried to do the Balloon Hop, which I had been hyping all week.  There were no balloons, just little heavy rubber balls!  (Our usual gym teacher left a few months ago, so our new gym teacher was in charge, and he had never done Field Day before.)  So that was a disaster.  None of the kids could keep the rubber ball squeezed between their knees AND hop at the same time.  I had to give up and let them carry the balls, and then jump all the way to the finish line.

Strangely enough, the one new station that I was dreading — tug of war — turned out to be a great success.  We finished with 9 pairs of kids on 9 ropes, giggling hysterically and having a great time.  Phew!

I was utterly exhausted when they went home, though.

child protection April 22, 2010

Yesterday was a bit of a stressful day.  One child came in with a note explaining that his/her absence for the last two days was because of visits to Child Protection.  I was shocked — could not imagine there being a problem in this child’s family.  I was still trying to connect with our social worker, because she found out that another child had witnessed violence at home, including mom covered in blood, and because I wanted her to talk with a third child, who told our volunteer a garbled story about hitting and mom maybe getting hit by her boyfriend.

I was already feeling tense because at our mentor meeting before, we looked at test data that showed most of the classes in 1st, 3rd, 4th, and 5th did worse on their winter testing than they did in the fall — the percentage of children way below standard was actually growing!  And the response of some of my colleagues was to make excuses.  Which kind of made me sick.

Anyway, I finally did connect with the social worker, in a busy hallway for two minutes, where we spoke in code about each child and learned that the first one’s family is fine — mom brought her child to CP because of someone/something that happened outside the home.  The second one’s story about mom covered with blood is true, but it happened a long time ago, not recently.  This child is in counseling, so not sure what else to do.  The third one, the social worker will look into.  The thing is, the third child is super happy and relaxed all the time, so I’m not sure it’s a continuing trauma.