Communication Barrier

A few years ago the school system added American Sign Language as a language option. Since that time, it has become rather popular in our school, especially with active, kinesthetic learners.

This year, we have a new, full-time ASL teacher. Her classroom is a couple doors down; she has a homeroom on our team, and she is deaf.

As team leader and a nearby person with a lot of experience in the building, I am a prime resource and support for her. She is the type of person who doesn't hesitate to ask for help, and I like that, because it is much easier for me to answer questions than to anticipate them. The school provides an interpreter for her which makes most of our communication very easy, but there are times when we are alone, and getting a message through is more of a struggle then. Fortunately, she is gracious and patient, even writing little jokes I am too clueless to catch on the whiteboard. We make it work.

Even so, I am acutely aware that she is unable to speak my language, but I have just never taken the time to learn hers.

Don't Dis Functional

It was sixth period.

One third of the students were off in a nearby room working on their personal narrative drafts with a resource teacher, while eighteen students worked silently in the classroom on the same task. My co-teacher, Matt, and I circulated quietly among them, taking a few minutes at this table and that to check in on their progress.

About 30 minutes in, Matt made eye-contact with me and then swept his gaze over the diligently writing group and smiled. "On October 18, 2018..." he whispered.

"Stop!" I whispered back. "You'll jinx it!"

There's Always Room for Jello

I am not the only one struggling to find equilibrium with this huge new class of sixth graders. After listening to a litany of concerns from my colleagues, many of which I shared, I finally resorted to simile.

"Guys!" I said to my team, "maybe it's just like Jello!"

They looked at me quizzically.

"The more there is, the longer it takes to set," I explained. "We're still wobbling, but--"

"It's gonna gel!" finished another teacher.

Greetings to You

A couple of years ago I read an article that said hundreds of kids pass through their middle and high schools every day without ever hearing their name. It was meant to point out a travesty, and I took it to heart. Since then, I stand outside my classroom door every morning and greet every student who passes by, most of them by name, since as a sixth grade teacher I know roughly a third of the school.

To be honest, it's a good brain exercise for me, especially this year, when I needed to learn 145 names as quickly as possible. Fortunately, with so many kids, I have some help. This year a few students have elected to join me. They stand right beside me, and together we greet everyone who walks down the hall with a great big "good morning!" If I don't know someone and they do, they introduce us, and the reverse is true as well.

Hopefully? There are a lot fewer kids at our school who pass a day without someone saying their name.

Dependent Learner

"What's dialogue?" asked one of the 28 kids in my class after 3 mini-lessons on dialogue.

"What's dialogue?" I asked him as I sat down in the next chair.

"People talking!" his writing partner whispered.

"People talking?" he answered.

"Right!" I told him. "Now where can you add dialogue to your personal narrative?"

"What's a personal narrative?" he responded.

Finally Fall

pumpkins
date nut muffins
apple sauce
flannel
fleece
boots
kettle corn
corn maze
and
soup for dinner

Unicorn Tears

On a Target run for essentials, we found that we could not resist the Halloween displays. So much candy! So many home and yard decorations! So many costumes!

They even had a couple of giant heads like those that mascots and theme park characters wear, one of a cow, and one of a unicorn. True confession: I've always wanted to wear one of those; in fact, I harbor secret hopes of one day being our school yellow jacket mascot at a basketball game.

In that spirit, I immediately put on the unicorn head. "Heidi! Take my picture!" I commanded.

"What? I can't hear you in there!" she answered.

"MY PICTURE!" I repeated, and she willingly obliged.

Behind me, a mom rolled her toddler our way. "Turn around!" Heidi urged me.

I did, and the poor child immediately burst into tears. His mother, Heidi, and I laughed in surprise.

"I'll take it off!" I said, and as I did, his eyes grew even wider, and he screamed in terror. His wailing grew fainter as his mom pushed him quickly around the corner and away to another section of the store. I put the unicorn head back on the shelf.

A little while later, we ran into them again in the cleaning supplies. My own eyes widened a bit, and I laughed nervously. "Oh! He's fine now!" his mom assured us, but he gave me the stink eye as they rolled past.