Legacy

Today was the day when my old homeroom kids came back on a quick errand to pick up their IB Binders so that they could transfer them to their new seventh grade digs. It is always a bittersweet day for me: there I am working hard to build relationships with my fresh group of sixth graders when their predecessors come busting in the door, so familiar and with all that awkward newness out of the way. I am always so happy to see them and so sad to see them go.

This time there was a twist on that old story, though. All of last year's kids asked if they could stay for a bit, and of course I was delighted to have them. They sat in the extra chairs, chatted with their former classmates, and even joined in on the activity, helping the younger kids who had taken their places with their pinwheels for peace. For a few minutes my homeroom was a warm blend of the past and the present, and I couldn't have been happier.

When the bell rang, and my double-sized group of students set off into their days, I smiled when I heard a bunch of the sixth graders tell each other that they were coming back next year, too.

Picnic

Every year for the last four or five, the two sixth grade teams at our school have put on a picnic on the first Friday afternoon for our new middle schoolers. This year, the one-two punch of Irene and Lee left our fields a bit soggy, and so the event was re-scheduled until today. The students took a reading test in the morning and then were treated to an hour and a half outside to play and eat hot dogs. The weather was warm and sunny, the grill was hot, the chips were crunchy, and the watermelon was sweet. There were screams of glee from the playground and friendly banter on the soccer field and basketball court. Although the day was not without a misunderstanding or bruised feeling here and there (probably inevitable with 250+ kids) it went off without a hitch and we were cleaned up in under 10 minutes. Not bad for 15 public employees.

Kickball

When I was a kid, I loved everything about the game-- the dusty orange field, the bases scuffed in with the heel of your shoe, even the schoolyard pick of the players. I loved the line of players that formed behind the backstop; in batting order we crept slowly forward until we were nearly at the right baseline. I loved the call of the pitcher, How do you want it? and the response of the kicker, Slow and bouncy! or Fast and smooth. No one ever wanted it fast and bouncy, although such a delivery might have set up a mighty, mighty kick that soared up and over the infield, defying gravity until at last it arced down and to the ground. Then there might be the solid thump of the soft red rubber ball and that little puff of rust-colored dust into your eyes when you caught it in the cradle you made of your arms and then held on tight to keep it from bouncing away, because you knew it was almost impossible to make a play from way out there, although it was kind of fun to sprint forward and fling that ball directly at the runner just hoping to hear the satisfying thwump of the tag and the chorus proclaiming, You're out!

A Little Friendly Advice

Of all the things I've learned as a teacher, there is one that continues to amaze me. People do not listen. Just because words are coming out of your mouth does not mean that they are being registered by a single ear in the room. Small group, large group, one-on-one, whatever-- do not take it personally; do not get frustrated; as ridiculous as it may seem to respond to the most sincere question that you literally just answered, try to remember that your voice is but one stimulus in a world exploding with sensory details, and the difference between focus and distraction is all in the brain of the beholder. Scolding such an inquirer will not ensure increased attention in the future, probably the opposite, so therefore check for understanding as frequently and as patiently as possible, stay on message and repeat as necessary, and whatever you do? Remove the phrase "dumb ass" from your vocabulary.

First Weekend Back

Yep. They still go by really fast.

105 More Shopping Days

Just the other night I had a moment of seasonal passage-- the first commercial of winter. Oh, it was a cozy, animated little production full of warm light and bundled-up kids, and although it did not inspire me to run out and buy tissues for those inevitable cold weather colds (here they come!), it did almost make me want to fix a mug of hot chocolate and enjoy it right there, ignoring the drone of the air conditioner and early September heat and humidity. The fireplace was looking quite welcoming as well.

Thus also began another countdown: How many days until the first Christmas commercial? It can't be long!

I Gotta Hand it to Them

I have a traditional first week of school assignment that I'm rather fond of. I always begin the year by informing the kids that we are going to write every day, but I reassure them that it will never be anything they can't handle. In fact, to prove it, I tell them we are going to start with words, just words, and build our way up from there.

Their task this week is to come up with 30 nouns and/or adjectives that describe them in some way. Oh, I tie in their independent reading right away, too, encouraging them to "steal" specific nouns and adjectives from other writers by looking at how these published authors describe the people in their books.

When the lists are completed, the students trace their hands on a piece of paper and then scribe the words they have chosen along the outline. The last step is to decorate the hand, cut it out, and mount it on construction paper for display.

This simple activity provides enormous insight into their classroom skills and their work habits, and the products end up being a wonderful snapshot of each student-- their hands, their designs, their words.