Notice

Today at school we got an email that there was a confidential memo in our mailboxes. Such an unusual chain of communication had the staff in a buzz, and it wasn't lessened any by the note from the police officer assigned to our building alerting us to the fact that a somewhat disturbed woman tried to gain access to our school this morning. She insisted that she needed to use the library to watch the children. It was clearly stated that there was never any indication of danger, but the combination of her instability and persistence made it prudent to let us know that she was around. We could recognize her by her Thomas the Train backpack.

Later I was talking to three of my colleagues about the incident. One wondered if it was the woman who lives in her car right down the street from our school. "Who?" I asked, and she described the car and the lady, adding that she had been there since last winter. I drive by that location every day, and I have never noticed either car or woman, but they are there-- I saw them tonight as I left. In my defense, I suppose I could say that my mind is always on the day ahead as I pull into the parking lot and my attention always turned towards home on the return trip. Still, I think there is a larger truth about the invisibility of people who are disadvantaged in our community.

Last Sunday at our local Farmer's Market, I was returning to my car with a bag full of fruit and vegetables. A fellow shopper stood chatting with a friend in the parking lot, and I noticed that her dog was very focused on something in the direction of my car. As I approached the driver's side, a woman was on the sidewalk ahead, and she was talking. I assumed that she was speaking to the dog, and I gave a grin and a nod to a fellow pet lover. "What are you smiling at you f--cking wh-re?" she asked in such a sweet voice that I was literally sitting in the car before I understood her words.  

Hey! I thought, and locking the doors, took a closer look at her. The bags that I had assumed were the result of running errands were stuffed with clothes and all sorts of other things that obviously had not been purchased that day. She picked them up and shuffled away from the bus stop where, had I bothered to think about it, I might have imagined that she was waiting for the transportation that would take her on her way to home or work or some place safe where people cared for her. She was talking to herself the whole way down the street.

Could it be that it is time for me to pull my head out of whatever hole it's in and pay a little more attention to the humans around me? Ya think?

Locker Day

You probably wouldn't think about it unless you were a sixth grade teacher, but when most kids come to middle school, they have absolutely no experience opening a combination lock. Receiving a locker assignment is no less than a rite of passage. Picture if you will, hundreds of 11- and 12-year-olds crowded in along banks of narrow lockers, gripping their combinations in sweaty hands and desperately twirling the dials on their padlocks. Right Left Right is a totally foreign concept to them. Skip the second number once before stopping on it? Ludicrous! What do you mean I have to start from the beginning if I miss one of the numbers?

Twenty minutes of utter chaos always marks the third day of school, but it's one of my favorite mornings of the year. To start with, the kids are so excited to be getting a locker at all. Four cubic feet of property to call their own in the vastness of our school must be very reassuring. The whole combination thing is challenging for most, but not so frustrating as to be impossible, and it's really easy for the staff to assist anyone who is stuck. 

By the end of the day, upwards of 80 percent of the sixth graders can open their lockers unassisted, and it will be everyone before a week has passed. Their faces shine with pride when they feel the lock give way to their tug and hear that satisfying click. They love their lockers, and they are very appreciative to those who have helped them learn a skill that is so valuable to them.

If only all of teaching could be like that.

My Favorite Show

At our school, the morning announcements are shown on television. Various students anchor the broadcast, reading the important events of the day to students and staff, leading us in the Pledge of Allegiance, and directing us to observe the state mandated minute of silence. From time to time, they will have a guest, for example the principal, the IB Coordinator, or a student involved in some activity. They do a nice job, but it can be a little dry, and last year I noticed that not many of my homeroom students were paying attention. Of course I put a quick stop to any talking or whispering, but it's impossible to force someone to focus on something, and who wants a fight like that first thing in the morning, anyway?

My response was to start calling the announcements "my favorite show" as in, Yay! It's time for my favorite show! or Hey! Pay attention! You're totally missing my favorite show! Of course they rolled their eyes at me, but I didn't stop when it was over.  Wow! Did you hear that! The boys basketball team won! AND, they have practice this afternoon! Gosh I love that show! Don't you? Soon, the kids started watching the announcements just so they could make fun of my favorite show. It was excellent!

I started that routine again today with my new students. Obviously, they don't know me yet, and as soon as the announcements were over, one of them turned to me with concern. "So what's your second favorite show?" he asked.

Getting to Know You

One of the goals of the first day of school is always to get to know the students in some way. Over the years I have planned many different activities to help everyone feel a little more at home in our class. A tried and true method is to have each student share one thing about themselves as I take roll, but some kids don't enjoy being put on the spot like that-- I was one of those kids myself, and I still kind of hate having to share personal stuff in a meeting or class.

So with that in mind I devised an alternate approach. Rather than have the student tell me something, I told them I would guess a few things about them that they could either confirm or correct. I was like Professor Marvel in The Wizard of Oz. Spying a new binder and matching pencil pouch, I would confidently declare, Your favorite color is purple! The tall kids usually got, You play basketball! And, playing the odds, many kids heard, Your favorite subject is math! or Your favorite song this summer was California Gurls! Amazing!

Soon I branched out a bit in my predictions.

Me: You have an annoying... hamster!
Student: Close.
Me: Brother?
Student: Yes!

Me: When you grow up you want to be a professional... accountant!
Student: Football player.
Me: Are you sure?

Of course I was wrong as often as I was right, but then the kids just laughed at how ridiculous it would be if pizza was their favorite food instead of sushi, or if they had gone to the beach instead of NYC on vacation, and when the day was through, we ended up learning a lot about each other.

Annual Insomnia

I can never sleep the night before school starts. No matter how well prepared I feel for the next day, my rest is restless at best, and I always wake in the middle of the night, my mind spinning anxiously, my heart beating along. I can already tell that this year will not be an exception.

In an email from college, my nephew asked if I was ready to go back. No, but I'm ready to be back.It's the transition that does me in. My only consolation is that I know I'll sleep well tomorrow night.

The Neighbors WIll Hear

One thing about the place where I live is that there's not a lot of open window weather; usually it's either too hot or too cold. I'm sure the building has something to do with it-- constructed in the mid-80s, the jigsaw design of the units offers the illusion of privacy, but the trade-off may have been that there was not a lot of attention paid to cross-breezes and natural ventilation in these townhouse-style condos.

Tonight is one of those rare times when we and many of our fellow residents have thrown open our windows and doors to welcome the first burst of cool, fresh, pre-autumn air. As I sat on my stoop grilling a couple of chops for our dinner, I could hear the sounds of my neighbors float through the courtyard. A child practiced piano; a couple chatted as they did the dishes; a commercial promised convenience and service; a dad announced that bedtime was coming.

Privacy? Oh, that was totally out the window, but the undeniable sense of belonging to a community completely made up for it.

PIPs

At the open house the other night, I saw a former student who is now in eighth grade. She had been tapped to serve as one of our school's "Ambassadors," eighth graders who welcome guests and guide them through the building when they visit.

This particular kid had been an avid reader when she was in my class, and so I asked her if she'd had a chance to read the third book in The Hunger Games trilogy. She told me that she hadn't even read the second book, yet, so before the night was over, she ducked into my room and grabbed the book from my class library. The next day, I found it on my desk with a note-- Loved it! Can't wait for the next one! I know she'll be by before school starts on Tuesday morning to borrow that next book, and that kind of stuff always makes me smile, because I like being part of a community of readers and writers, and I love helping kids get their hands on books they want to read.

Last week we heard through the grapevine that our school system is implementing a policy that forbids teachers from having non-school-issued furnishings in their classrooms. Couches, rockers, bean bags, pillows, and their like will have to be removed. Such a rule bothers me, because beyond making me get rid of the ways I have personalized the room for my students, it smacks of other changes to come. How long will it be before teachers are not allowed to have any books that aren't issued by the school system in their rooms, either?