And There She Was

"I forgot to give Emily these tomatoes," I complained to Heidi as I packed up to leave school today around 5. "I don't know if she's still here, but I wrote myself a note for tomorrow," I continued, stepping into the hall and closing my door behind me. A quick glance down the looooooong corridor to my right revealed a miraculous sight. "Emily!" we shouted. She turned around, and I ducked back into my room to grab her gift from the garden.

Happy ending!

Did He?

We talk a walk on the National Mall this morning, hoping to enjoy the beautiful weather and tire our puppy out. Our plan was to walk from the Capital to the Lincoln, reflection pool to reflection pool a distance of two miles, and back again.

As we neared the first reflection pool, all the ducks diving drew Lucy's attention, but I was more engaged by the brother and sister walking toward us. She perhaps eight and he around six were also fascinated by the animal life in the pool.

"I see a shark!" he cried and grabbed her elbow.

"They don't have sharks here!" she said crossly.

"Where are we, again?" he asked.

"Washington!" she told him. "The Capital?" she jerked her thumb over her shoulder at the impressive edifice gleaming white against the amazing blue September sky.

"Well I saw a shark," he said.

Vegging

"Going for the exotic vegetables, are you?" the woman ahead of me in the grocery line asked as I unloaded my shopping basket. "What is that? Cassava? Jicama?" she guessed.

I laughed politely. "No, it's rutabaga," I shrugged, "actually pretty homespun."

"Well, I never eat rutabaga," she assured me. "Sweet potatoes? Yes. Carrots? Sure, lots of them."

"Better watch out," I warned her. "Rutabaga could be next... Those are definitely gateway vegetables!" 

Imperfect Storm

Week one is in the books, and oh my gosh you guys!

I

Am

Exhausted!

Could it be the grueling combination of new students, new staff, new curriculum, new learning management system, new elementary school being built right outside my window, and...

old teacher?

Nah!

I see you Monday.

Telling the Tale

The first week of writing workshop is spent gathering ideas for personal narratives in our new writing notebooks. It's more fun than it sounds-- the kids get to play around with a few low stakes get-to-know-you writing exercises that are designed to turn up some new topics for the first unit.

On Wednesday it was If you were a character in a novel, what would the plot be? As I circulated from student to student, I found that just having them tell a story from their lives in third person turned out to be incredibly freeing. There were so many compelling tales about family, friends, heartbreaking losses, school and playground drama, pets, championship games, and changing schools, cities, states, and countries.

"What would the story be about?" I asked each kid.

"It's about a 9-year-old girl and her mom and brother who travel to Africa," one girl explained. "Her dad had to stay home to work," she continued. "All the grown-ups were really nice to the kids when their mom was around," she said, "but one day when their mom went shopping, the mean maid locked them in a closet!"

My eyes grew wide. "Wow!" I told her. "What a story!"

Another student's story was about a boy who was starting middle school. When he found out that his buddy wasn't on the same team, he didn't even want to go any more. He begged his mom to skip the open house so that he could stay home and play video games, but she insisted. When he got to school that afternoon, he was amazed to run into another kid who had been a really good friend in 4th grade until he moved and went to another school.

"It has a silver lining!" he told me.

I had to agree.

The Baby and the Bathwater

On the second day of school our interdisciplinary team met. It was the first of semi-weekly meetings that will continue throughout the year and the final vestige of the middle school team model that was the standard when I began my career.

Back then, teams were intentionally-organized independent entities designed to support students and based on the theory that a small group of adults working with the same kids could use their common knowledge to both educate and build a community to support the whole child. Students would feel connected and nobody would fall through the cracks.

We spent a lot of time in the 3-4 times a week we met discussing students and meeting with other professionals and parents to find successful interventions to help them. The model wasn't perfect, but it was helpful in smoothing the way down one of the roughest roads many kids encounter.

These days the focused has shifted, and supporting the whole child has taken a backseat to academic achievement measured by standardized tests, an approach more reliant on technology and disciplinary expertise than personal relationships and community. Although teams exist in name, kids are cross-grouped more and more, and the discrete, grade-level team is a thing of the past.

Today, I saw the glazed eyes of my colleagues as they sat through a meeting that was significantly devoted to the needs of students they don't know and never will. When time is a premium, as it always is with educators, such a practice cannot stand, and my prediction is that the middle school model will be abandoned in a decade.

First Impressions

Every year there is some notable feature about the latest group of sixth graders. This year it has to be height. I kid you not-- there are at least 10 kids who are under four feet tall.

"There must be a colony of elves nearby!" I noted to my colleagues as the students left us following their first day of middle school. "I hope they are the industrious kind."