When I was in the girl scouts, we learned the words to Taps:
Day is done
Gone the sun
From the lake
From the hill
From the sky
All is well
Safely rest
God is nigh.
The field trip today was great. The kids had a teriffic time, and despite the threat of poor weather, it turned out fine. We had a lovely morning on the beach and saw countless dolphins from the boat as it idled just off Cape Henlopen. Minor glitches were resolved without hitches and everyone was on their way home by 7 PM.
And so, on the last Thursday of the year, I thought I'd follow up on the kids I've mentioned over the last 3 months. Our student who had been exposed to lead was found eligible for special education and will receive a lot more support next year. He had a great time today, and at one point was buried to his neck in the sand, unable to move, but we assured him that no child would be left behind.
The student who sent the paper airplanes down to the street boy in Bangladesh was also the child whose dad e-mailed me about the trip insisting that his wife be allowed to come. His mother was lovely, and as far as I could tell, both mom and son had a wonderful time today, in fact, the mom asked someone to take our picture together on the boat, and I was happy to oblige. As an aside, no student lost a seat because she came on the trip. Everyone who wanted to go was able to come along.
The girl who forged her mom's signature has been out of school for over a week while her dad receives an experimental treatment at a hospital in NY, but her aunt drove her down so that she could go on the trip with her classmates. Everyone, student and teacher alike, was happy to see her and sorry to know that she may be out for the rest of the year. Before she left this evening, I made sure she got a copy of our literary magazine. The poem she wrote honoring her father's courage and strength is published there.
The boy who didn't need friends at school but only wished that people would be nice to him, didn't go today. He didn't want to. In the last couple of weeks, his teachers have noticed that he's been acting giddy, even manic. When the counselor called home, his mom told her that he's acting that way because he's so happy he won't be returning to our school next year. The family decided to enroll him in a correspondence middle school where he can work from home.
Both of the kids whose conferences I wrote about are still struggling. We send them to seventh grade with documentation of all the strategies we've tried and the hope that maturity will kick in over the summer to help them be more successful next year. They both had a grand time on the trip today, too. And so did I, but the last Friday of the year is looming, so I'll leave it at that.
Thursday, June 11, 2009
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
Stop Me if You've Heard This One Before
One early morning in mid-June about five years ago, my sixth grade class was going on our end-of-the-year field trip, an all day excursion that included a dolphin-watching cruise and a picnic at the beach. The students had already boarded the charter bus and were busy stowing their bags and towels, happily chattering and settling in for the three hour trip. They were excited—some of them had never even seen the ocean before. I stood on the bottom step of the bus, scanning the parking lot for late arrivals before doing the final head count. The sun was just rising above the school—it was going to be a hot day. Turning to climb on board, I felt a hand on my elbow. One of the mothers was standing on the sidewalk, looking up at me. I stepped down, and she took my hand, clasping it in both of her own. “Today, my son is your son,” she said. “Please take good care of him.”
“I will,” I’d assured her with my teacher’s confidence, but my step faltered as I climbed onto the bus, and the day seemed a little less promising than it had earlier. What if something goes wrong and a student is injured? How would I feel, then? Life is perilous and uncertain, so we can’t indulge our fears, but where is the line between prudent risk-taking and recklessness? All of these thoughts were clouds in the clear June sky, threatening to rain on our field trip.
Of course nothing happened, and all the students made it back safely, but thinking back on it later, I wondered if that was really the first time I had ever felt the full weight of responsibility for another person’s child, and if field trips would ever be the same for me again.
“I will,” I’d assured her with my teacher’s confidence, but my step faltered as I climbed onto the bus, and the day seemed a little less promising than it had earlier. What if something goes wrong and a student is injured? How would I feel, then? Life is perilous and uncertain, so we can’t indulge our fears, but where is the line between prudent risk-taking and recklessness? All of these thoughts were clouds in the clear June sky, threatening to rain on our field trip.
Of course nothing happened, and all the students made it back safely, but thinking back on it later, I wondered if that was really the first time I had ever felt the full weight of responsibility for another person’s child, and if field trips would ever be the same for me again.
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
Let it Go
Every once in a while, and more frequently the older I get, I realize that certain ships have definitely sailed for me, never to return to port. I say it today because, since the weather was horrible, and I'm so busy doing a kazillion things at school, I didn't vote in the primary that was held in our state. I feel a sense of failure, as this was not a deliberate choice, but much more of the lame "my life got in the way of my democracy" kind of thinking, but there you have it; the polls are closed and my vote was not cast. So, as I was cooking dinner after getting home from school at 6:30, I was feeling a little guilty and beating myself up about it, and this thought actually entered my mind: They can use this against me if I ever run for office.
I'll never forget the day I realized that I would never be Miss America. I was 26 years old, and although I had never entered a pageant in my life, mostly because I had no interest in them, I felt a sense of loss when I understood that particular certainty of my future. Watching Miss America was a family thing for us; we liked the pageantry, and we liked the prediction-- we sat there with paper, pencil and popcorn, poised as those 51 girls walked across the stage to pick our top ten based solely on their appearance and self-introductions. We kept score until the end, too, of what, I'm not sure now.
And so it was on one such evening in September, when I sat in my living room washed in the violet light of the television and upholding the family tradition, that it became clear to me that, No, Tracey, anything cannot happen. You will never go to Atlantic City and compete in a swim suit for this sash and crown, much less win it.
Since then, I've given up on a medical career and one in law as well. And now, today, based on my voting record, I probably won't hold public office, either. Dang. Another door closes.
I'll never forget the day I realized that I would never be Miss America. I was 26 years old, and although I had never entered a pageant in my life, mostly because I had no interest in them, I felt a sense of loss when I understood that particular certainty of my future. Watching Miss America was a family thing for us; we liked the pageantry, and we liked the prediction-- we sat there with paper, pencil and popcorn, poised as those 51 girls walked across the stage to pick our top ten based solely on their appearance and self-introductions. We kept score until the end, too, of what, I'm not sure now.
And so it was on one such evening in September, when I sat in my living room washed in the violet light of the television and upholding the family tradition, that it became clear to me that, No, Tracey, anything cannot happen. You will never go to Atlantic City and compete in a swim suit for this sash and crown, much less win it.
Since then, I've given up on a medical career and one in law as well. And now, today, based on my voting record, I probably won't hold public office, either. Dang. Another door closes.
Monday, June 8, 2009
SOLSC Day 100
Yep. It's true. A hundred days. In a row.
I started this challenge sitting by the fire on a freezing day when we were preparing for a snow storm. Today it's high 80's with a chance of thunderstorms, but there's a fire going in the kettle grill, and I'm on my way out to flip some local, free-range, grass-fed burgers. I just finished listening to Barbara Kingsolver read her book, Animal, Vegetable, Miracle. (Tell me you weren't moved just a little when the second generation of turkeys hatched.) With a bit over a week left of school, I'm doing my best to cope with the hectic pace of the end-of-the-year AND the transition to summer, but it's not my strength. I did get to spend a little planning time today with my favorite collaborating teacher, and that was awesome; we're a good team. As for this evening, though, I'm just going to call it a hundred and log out until tomorrow.
I started this challenge sitting by the fire on a freezing day when we were preparing for a snow storm. Today it's high 80's with a chance of thunderstorms, but there's a fire going in the kettle grill, and I'm on my way out to flip some local, free-range, grass-fed burgers. I just finished listening to Barbara Kingsolver read her book, Animal, Vegetable, Miracle. (Tell me you weren't moved just a little when the second generation of turkeys hatched.) With a bit over a week left of school, I'm doing my best to cope with the hectic pace of the end-of-the-year AND the transition to summer, but it's not my strength. I did get to spend a little planning time today with my favorite collaborating teacher, and that was awesome; we're a good team. As for this evening, though, I'm just going to call it a hundred and log out until tomorrow.
Sunday, June 7, 2009
The Dream of a Common Language
A few years ago I was at a family gathering. My nephews were 6 and 9 at the time, and they were off in the corner playing some color version of Pokemon on their Gameboys. There was a younger, distant cousin who had never met the boys before, but he was drawn to them and stood close by listening intently to the patter of their conversation as each not only played his own game, but also gave a running overview of the action to his brother, in addition to receiving and offering strategic advice in turn.
Impressed, the little boy ran off to find his mother. "Mommy," he asked, "what language do those kids speak?"
"They speak English, Honey," she told him, but he did not look convinced.
"What language do we speak?" he asked her.
"We speak English, too," she told him.
"It doesn't seem like English to me," he said.
Last week, one of my students turned in a writing piece called, War of Epic Rune and I. It had a pretty gripping lead: The first time we fought, he was a cheap shooter. As I read on, though, I discovered that I was not the intended audience of this piece. I couldn't have been, because I had no idea what was going on.
He used dds-ags glitch. He killed me. I stocked up on my pk stuff! I went into the wilderness, I attacked him! 26, 25, he ate healed 22. I hit two more 27's, and I took out my dds. I specialed him (it's a 2 time attack). Before I attacked I switched to ags (You can only attack 1 time with it because it's so high damaging!) Then my dds spec came. I had age on, so then I hit- bang bang! 60 23! He died! Then I was standing there healed myself. He came back with with pk-ing stuff and said, "Glitcher,"and attacked me. I said back, "You too...." Then we fought. I had two HP (heart points hit points). Until I died I was going to eat, but Epic had like 15 HP, so I didn't and attacked. I hit 18! I won again !
I felt a little dazed sitting there at my desk trying to fathom this incomprehensible narrative. It was disorienting to know most of the vocabulary but have no clue about the rest. I tried to use context, but I didn't have nearly enough background information to be successful. I laughed because it was ridiculously hard. I also understood then that many of my students probably have this experience regularly. I couldn't have asked for a better simulation of what a struggling reader goes through when confronted with a text that is too difficult.
It doesn't seem like English to me, I thought, and I photocopied War of Epic Rune and I and tucked it into my writers notebook so that I can remember what that feels like.
Impressed, the little boy ran off to find his mother. "Mommy," he asked, "what language do those kids speak?"
"They speak English, Honey," she told him, but he did not look convinced.
"What language do we speak?" he asked her.
"We speak English, too," she told him.
"It doesn't seem like English to me," he said.
Last week, one of my students turned in a writing piece called, War of Epic Rune and I. It had a pretty gripping lead: The first time we fought, he was a cheap shooter. As I read on, though, I discovered that I was not the intended audience of this piece. I couldn't have been, because I had no idea what was going on.
He used dds-ags glitch. He killed me. I stocked up on my pk stuff! I went into the wilderness, I attacked him! 26, 25, he ate healed 22. I hit two more 27's, and I took out my dds. I specialed him (it's a 2 time attack). Before I attacked I switched to ags (You can only attack 1 time with it because it's so high damaging!) Then my dds spec came. I had age on, so then I hit- bang bang! 60 23! He died! Then I was standing there healed myself. He came back with with pk-ing stuff and said, "Glitcher,"and attacked me. I said back, "You too...." Then we fought. I had two HP (heart points hit points). Until I died I was going to eat, but Epic had like 15 HP, so I didn't and attacked. I hit 18! I won again !
I felt a little dazed sitting there at my desk trying to fathom this incomprehensible narrative. It was disorienting to know most of the vocabulary but have no clue about the rest. I tried to use context, but I didn't have nearly enough background information to be successful. I laughed because it was ridiculously hard. I also understood then that many of my students probably have this experience regularly. I couldn't have asked for a better simulation of what a struggling reader goes through when confronted with a text that is too difficult.
It doesn't seem like English to me, I thought, and I photocopied War of Epic Rune and I and tucked it into my writers notebook so that I can remember what that feels like.
Saturday, June 6, 2009
NO Whining
I felt bad after I posted yesterday. I like to think that it's not really "me" to get upset about little things like that. (Except when it is, eh?) Honestly? I'm sure the field trip will work out fine: everyone will have a good time, and in retrospect it will all have been worth it. I guess that sometimes it's hard to find that balance between planning for the future, living in the moment, and reflecting on the past. What can you do, though?
Just keep practicing.
Just keep practicing.
Friday, June 5, 2009
Travel Agency 101
Or: Things They Don't Teach You in Grad School
Every year in June our sixth grade team takes a trip to go dolphin watching. It's about three hours away, so we charter buses, spend a couple of hours at the beach, and then board a really big boat for a 2-hour cruise skirting the capes of Delaware in search of marine mammals. Next it's back on the bus, and a few hours later we're home. It's usually a nice day and a pleasant way to end the year. It also offers experiences that many of our students have never had: the beach, the boat, or both.
It's my job to organize this trip, and over the years it has gotten easier, but even so, every year there seems to be a new set of complications. Part of the challenge of planning it has to do with pricing. Your typical charter bus has 55 seats, and the boat charter is based on a minimum of 100 passengers. Depending on the year, we have had anywhere from 80-100 students, plus 8 teachers. Although it is always our goal, we have never had 100% of the students participate on the trip. The trick then becomes estimating the number of students and chaperones who will pay to come and pricing it accordingly. We have to break even... there's no reserve fund to cover it if we don't. BUT, we know that some kids won't be able to afford the trip, and so we solicit donations for scholarships, and we know that every passenger over that original estimate will also subsidize a student whose family can't afford the whole cost.
Some years I'm sweating it out because we haven't got that minimum number of people. Last year, I accepted a check and permission slip on the morning of the trip, because I knew it would get us out of the red. (Plus, the kid wanted to go... I have a hard time saying no to that after we went to all the trouble to plan such a great trip.) This year it's the opposite; we're short on seats, and I've been in the difficult position of telling some parents who have paid to go that, as much as we appreciate the support, we need their seat for a student. This new situation is just as stressful as it was to worry about staying out of debt in the past. Despite the refund, there have been some unhappy folks.
I received an e-mail this afternoon from just such a parent. It read in part:
I worked for (another school system) for 6 years and never seen a situation like a school system doesn't have a plan for their trip. It is not I don't believe what the excuse for (my son's) mom involvement but it's hard to believe. I expect to be treated fair, though this is a tough time. I hope your school and you understand my pain. My son was talking about the trip and now he can't go.
He continued:
Nothing personal, I feel like very much insulted and humiliated but what I can do? nothing. In my culture teacher is consider to be the highest respected person...teacher is the designer of child's life path. You are all same respected force of educator. But This is what I believe. Something totally wrong in this trip turmoil.
I regret the misunderstanding with this family, but I stand by our goal to have as many students participate as possible, and does anyone appreciate how above and beyond our job description this whole thing is? Chalk it up to end-of-the-year fatigue, but I am officially aggravated.
Every year in June our sixth grade team takes a trip to go dolphin watching. It's about three hours away, so we charter buses, spend a couple of hours at the beach, and then board a really big boat for a 2-hour cruise skirting the capes of Delaware in search of marine mammals. Next it's back on the bus, and a few hours later we're home. It's usually a nice day and a pleasant way to end the year. It also offers experiences that many of our students have never had: the beach, the boat, or both.
It's my job to organize this trip, and over the years it has gotten easier, but even so, every year there seems to be a new set of complications. Part of the challenge of planning it has to do with pricing. Your typical charter bus has 55 seats, and the boat charter is based on a minimum of 100 passengers. Depending on the year, we have had anywhere from 80-100 students, plus 8 teachers. Although it is always our goal, we have never had 100% of the students participate on the trip. The trick then becomes estimating the number of students and chaperones who will pay to come and pricing it accordingly. We have to break even... there's no reserve fund to cover it if we don't. BUT, we know that some kids won't be able to afford the trip, and so we solicit donations for scholarships, and we know that every passenger over that original estimate will also subsidize a student whose family can't afford the whole cost.
Some years I'm sweating it out because we haven't got that minimum number of people. Last year, I accepted a check and permission slip on the morning of the trip, because I knew it would get us out of the red. (Plus, the kid wanted to go... I have a hard time saying no to that after we went to all the trouble to plan such a great trip.) This year it's the opposite; we're short on seats, and I've been in the difficult position of telling some parents who have paid to go that, as much as we appreciate the support, we need their seat for a student. This new situation is just as stressful as it was to worry about staying out of debt in the past. Despite the refund, there have been some unhappy folks.
I received an e-mail this afternoon from just such a parent. It read in part:
I worked for (another school system) for 6 years and never seen a situation like a school system doesn't have a plan for their trip. It is not I don't believe what the excuse for (my son's) mom involvement but it's hard to believe. I expect to be treated fair, though this is a tough time. I hope your school and you understand my pain. My son was talking about the trip and now he can't go.
He continued:
Nothing personal, I feel like very much insulted and humiliated but what I can do? nothing. In my culture teacher is consider to be the highest respected person...teacher is the designer of child's life path. You are all same respected force of educator. But This is what I believe. Something totally wrong in this trip turmoil.
I regret the misunderstanding with this family, but I stand by our goal to have as many students participate as possible, and does anyone appreciate how above and beyond our job description this whole thing is? Chalk it up to end-of-the-year fatigue, but I am officially aggravated.
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