Moving Forward

Tomorrow's the last day of school and we have an early release schedule that allows just 24 minutes with each class before we bid them a fond farewell. It will be bittersweet, as always, for I have grown attached to my students, and when all is said and done, I will miss them. Even though they will be in the building next year, it will never be the same again, and that's kind of sad.

The last few years I have filled the time in my empty classroom by watching one of the high school graduations on local access TV as I clean and pack for the summer. It started when my nephew graduated and I tuned in to see him receive his diploma. So many familiar faces crossed the stage as I waited for him to be called, and seeing these former students six years later, grown up and ready to head out into the world, made it a little bit easier to say good-bye to the kids who would be boarding their buses in a little while.

The Rap of Merciless Madge

One of the best things about teaching sixth grade is that once they get to know you? Those kids are pretty sure you can do anything! And to be honest, they're not that hard to impress.

Why, just yesterday on the bus the boys across from me were making rhymes of each other's names. When they noticed me watching them curiously they were only too happy to explain. "We're making raps!"

"Cool!" I told them and turned back to my book.

"Can you make one Ms. S?" they called across the aisle.

"Um," I hesitated, because, really? The answer was rightfully No, but I felt compelled to try.

"Do CJ!" They suggested.

 "OK, give me a minute." I considered the rhymes and took a deep breath.

My name is CJ--
I'll be your DJ.
Listen to what I say
'cause I know the right way
and if you are a hater?
You don't have to be that way!

Their jaws dropped only a moment before they started to clap.

#TBH

When I was in school the coveted spot on the bus was always the way back, and I can tell you from personal experience that things haven't changed much since then. I suppose it's developmentally appropriate for some adolescents to try and get as far away from the presence of authority as possible, but these days, when I'm riding the bus? The authority is in the back.

That's how it was this afternoon on the hour-long ride back to school from our end-of-the-year field trip destination. The field trip itself had been a mixed experience; some parts of it were better than others, but in general the kids around me were happily settled in with their phones as we pulled out of the marina.

"To be honest," I heard the girl in front of me say, "you're a little weird."

"To be honest," said the girl next to her, "you're sort of a b--"

"Hey now!" I interrupted. Leaning over the seat I could see they were not talking to each other, but rather to a third girl's phone. "What are you doing?" I asked them.

"Oh," answered the first girl, "it's a joke! He knows we're kidding." She noted my raised eyebrows. "OK! We'll erase it and only say nice things. " She handed the phone back to its owner.

That girl framed her face on the screen and punched the red button. "To be honest," she said, "you're nice, but we've faded."

"To be honest," I said, "I don't want you playing that game anymore."

"It's not a game," I was informed. "It's an Instagram thing."

"Fine," I replied. "Don't do it."

"But we have faded," she said. "We're not as close as we were."

"And you want to put that on Instagram?" I asked. "That doesn't seem very nice."

"OK!" Yet another student joined the conversation. "We will only say nice things. Promise!"

"Like what?" I inquired.

She shrugged. "Like, 'You're pretty'!"

"Why does it have to be about someone's looks?" I asked. "Why not, 'You're a good friend' or 'You're really smart' or 'I like spending time with you, because you're funny'?"

They were unconvinced. "No one says those things!"

"To be honest," I answered, "maybe they should!"

Better Late than Never

It was back in early March that in preparation to start this year's seeds, I dumped a couple of dry plugs of potting soil in a planter on the deck. These were last year's duds-- dirt with seeds that had failed to germinate with the rest.

How surprised was I in late April to recognize a couple of fledgling tomato plants reaching for the sun in that very same pot? And they have continued to not just survive, but thrive, out there. I have no idea what variety they might be, but I'm going to guess some type of cherry tomato, based on the arrangement of the many, many blossoms.

With a little luck, I'll know soon enough. And in the mean time? I am grateful for these prodigal plants.

Habit Forming

"I guess the writing challenge ends today?" one of my students asked with more than a note of disappointment in his voice.

I nodded. The challenge had been extended a week to allow kids who were close to make up any days they had missed. "You have all your days, right?" I smiled.

"Yeah," he sighed, "but I just kind of like to write every day now. I feel better when I do."

I can certainly sympathize with that! 

"How about if I set it up until the end of the year for anyone who wants to keep going?" I suggested.

Now he smiled. "Thanks!"

Progress!

I've mentioned before that my sister-in-law works in the same school as I do and that we share a last name. Today my friend Mary came up to the two of us. "Hey! Guess what someone in my homeroom asked? They wanted to know if Ms. S. the English teacher and Ms. S. the art teacher were married!"

Emily and I laughed incredulously, but Mary shrugged. "Look how far we've come!"

A Life Well-Lived

Who knows how it happens? Something jogs your memory and suddenly you are transported to another time and place. I can't pinpoint what reminded me, but yesterday I spent a little time recollecting an event from my own middle school years.

When I was in seventh grade the whole school broke up into lots of cross-grade teams for something they called Oktoberfest. Each group met once a week for the month of October to plan and participate in all sorts of special events. For example, the first thing we had to do was come up with a name for our team and design badges that we would all wear to the other activities. Our teacher sponsor was my social studies teacher from the year before, a nice guy by the name of Mr. Greve (pronounced gre-vay'). Over the summer he had noticeably acquired a hair piece, and he was really a good sport when our team decided to dub ourselves "Greve's Toupees". I still remember what our badges looked like, too.

Back then, middle school itself was a new, cutting edge concept. Separate from junior high, including sixth graders, the middle school model was developed to support young adolescents in their transition from elementary to high school. How interesting it is to look back on my experiences then through my middle school teacher goggles now! I know just what they were hoping to accomplish when they planned that event, but also what a disruption it probably was to instruction, and how gracefully my teachers handled it.

Kudos to them!

I googled Mr. Greve last night and found that he passed away in 2004, but not before he retired from teaching and walked the entirety of the Appalachian Trail and most of the Pacific Coast Trail. There were many comments on his remembrance page from other former students who appreciated him in much the way I did, too, as a good teacher and a kind man.

We could all do so much worse.