Fall Back

Not only are the old books in my classroom library making a comeback, but today I dug out a stack of flannel shirts that are as old as or older than the earliest volumes on those shelves, and you know what?

They look pretty good!

Full Circle

Back when I started teaching one of my first priorities was to build a classroom library. The research clearly said that kids who chose their own books read more, and I wanted those choices to be convenient for my students. I didn't have a lot of money, though, and so I had to be strategic in my acquisitions. It was a no-brainer to buy books that I knew my students liked, and in those days the most popular choices were books in Ann Martin's Baby Sitter Club series and R.L Stine's Goosebumps collection. Even though those volumes accounted for less than 20% of my little library, they were checked out almost all the time, with a waiting list.

Twenty-three years later and that caboodle has grown to fill several six-foot shelves, and along the way, Martin and Stine were eclipsed by Riordan, Rowling, Roth, and Patterson. AND, in addition to my own library, this year our district language arts department provided every teacher with over three hundred high-interest books for students to borrow. As I unpacked these latest additions to our classroom library, despite not knowing exactly where they will go I was gratified to find that I actually owned quite a few of the titles already, and that whoever had selected them had chosen a nice variety of books that the students like to read.

Even so, I know that many of them will spend most of their time in the bins they came with or on the shelf, because this year the books that every sixth grader is waiting to borrow are...

the new graphic version of The Baby Sitters Club and, because of the recent movie, R.L. Stine's Goosebumps.

To Protect and Serve

That last class of the day was miraculously quiet when one student glanced out the window. "A kid is getting arrested!" he reported. 

One glance outside and I knew he was right, administration and our school resource officer were indeed walking a handcuffed student toward a police cruiser parked out front.

As the rest of the students rose to stampede the window I used my most authoritative voice. "Stop!" I commanded and held my hand up. It helped that I was in position, standing between them and the view they so desperately longed to glimpse, but I thank my teaching angels as well.

To appease them, I narrated what only I could see, and that was that the school personnel were heading back into the building and the police cruiser was pulling away. Their eyes were super-wide.

"They can arrest us at school?" one student wanted to know.

I was tempted to make light of it, to joke about the consequences for not doing homework or talking out of turn, but then my eyes swept over the group. All but one of these children were of color, and I considered the current debate in our nation concerning police officers and their duty, authority, and responsibility. I could tell that there was considerable alarm at the possibility of being detained, and I wasn't sure what to say.

"Only if it's very serious," I finally told them. "I've been here a long time, and it hardly ever happens." 

They seemed to feel a little better then, and when the bell rang shortly afterward, they seemed pretty cheerful as they headed off to PE and electives, leaving me alone in my empty classroom. It wasn't until later that it occurred to me that not one of us felt any safer once the student had been taken away. For all we knew he could have been a serious threat to our community, certainly there have been a number of attacks on schools and students recently, but that's not where our thoughts went.

Clearly, we need to continue this conversation.

99% Perspiration

This year my last class of the day is also the most rambunctious. A small group full of big personalities, I have already grouped and regrouped them several times in pursuit of optimal learning conditions. I have also incorporated lots of movement opportunities in the lessons, tried more and less collaboration and choice, offered praise and material positive reinforcement, but nothing works quite the way I envision it.

They are also a bright bunch, full of creative ideas and confident energy, and I like them for that. In fact, I may have been joking this afternoon when, to get their attention, I called out, "All geniuses look up here!" but it was I who laughed loudest when the majority of heads swiveled my way and the room was quiet for once.

Recent History

At my English department meeting today after wrestling with a particularly thorny task we spent a little time speculating about our school's upcoming IB re-authorization visit. "Has anyone ever done one before?" someone asked.

I guess I was waiting for someone else to answer when I heard my name called. I shook my head and looked around the assembled group. A couple of colleagues were missing, but could it really be that none of these people were at our school five years ago?

"I was here," I said. "What do you want to know?"

Misdemeanors

"They should have called the police on you!" one of my students cried after reading my mini-memoir today.

"Really?" I asked. "How do you think that would have gone?"

He laughed. "Not too well," he admitted.

"But I can just imagine it," I said.

Nine-one-one, What's your emergency? 

Our babysitter is messing up the house and threatening to tell our parents we made the mess! 

Were you following her directions? 

Um... nevermind...

Where We Started

Thirty-nine years ago, on the second day of boarding school, I found myself waiting to board a charter bus bound for a picturesque alpine valley. The girl next to me in line turned to me and gave me a wacky look between a grin and a grimace. "Do I have food in my braces?" she asked.

I'm sure I frowned, but I also examined the silver brackets and wires dotting her teeth and saw no trace of her breakfast. "No," I answered.

"Thanks!" she replied. "I'm Karen," she continued, and we have been the closest of friends ever since, despite the fact that, as she likes to say, we have never lived in the same city. (Except those three years in boarding school, of course. That's what I like to say.)

Which is why this morning as we sat at an outdoor cafe not far from my home enjoying glorious weather and a weekend visit after two years apart, I was not surprised in the least when she turned to me and asked, "Do I have toothpaste all over my face?"

"No," I told her, "and there's no food in your braces either."