Seen and Heard and

I sat at my desk fiddling with my email and google drive attempting to pull up an agenda that someone had shared with me. We had just finished an all-sixth-grade meeting in my room and were scheduled to begin the ELA department meeting in about 10 minutes, so I was trying to project the discussion items on the screen for everyone to see. In frustration, I reread the email about the upcoming meeting, but there was no agenda attached. Then, I noticed the following message in small italics:

Be Seen. Be Heard. Be Brave.

This is a session for those who deeply desire to empower their students to be brave in the classroom. We will discuss how guilt, embarrassment, humiliation and shame hinder students from displaying bravery, achieving academic success and age appropriate independence while teacher modeled vulnerability can release students to be seen, be heard, and be brave in the classroom. Participants will review the work of Dr. Brené Brown, shame and vulnerability researcher from the University of Houston, and leave with ready to use classroom experiences and management tools for all age levels. All educators of students welcome!

It didn't seem like the right info for a department meeting. "What are we even doing in this meeting?" I asked irritably.

A few colleagues had filtered in early, and a teacher I didn't recognize walked over to my desk. "Hi," she said, "you must be the teacher whose room this is. I'm Michelle, and I'll be leading the session today."

That was... brave.

Listening Skills

"There are three things extreamly hard, Steel, a Diamond and to know one’s self." 

The quote of the day today was by Benjamin Franklin, and I thought it nicely set up the activity where the students had to choose a character trait of their own and tell a story illustrating it. In my 3rd period I had a student read the words out loud so that we could talk about it, just as I had in the previous two classes.

Before we could get to any kind of discussion, though, a puzzled voice called out, "I don't get it! That's only two things."

"What do you mean?" I asked him, "It's three: steel, a diamond, and to know yourself."

"That's two," he replied. "What's the other one?"

We went back and forth a couple of times, until I realized that he was sitting with his back to the screen. He wasn't reading the QOD; he was only listening to it. His next comment confirmed what I was beginning to suspect.

"Anyway," he scoffed, "stealing a diamond wouldn't necessarily be that hard."

Protective Gear

I'm not one who chooses her clothes the night before. Sort of like menu planning, I prefer to check the weather and see how I feel when it comes time to dress. Lately my strategy hasn't been as quick and easy as it once was. Perhaps the beginning of the school year with its different wardrobe considerations has thrown me off; perhaps the unfamiliarity of these cooler weather clothes I haven't worn all summer presents a challenge.

Whatever it might be, when I dressed in a pair of gray ankle-length chinos and a black t-shirt this morning, the issue of shoes was the problem. My Vans and sneakers looked odd, and I didn't care for the topsiders either. In exasperation I slipped on my flip flops which looked perfectly at home after a summer spent between my toes. I hesitated, because I don't usually wear them to school, but time was ticking and so I clip-clapped down the stairs and into my day.

It just so happened to be locker issue day, and so I found myself crammed into a narrow hallway with a a hundred sixth graders trying to get to their narrow little lockers and spin those combinations for the first time. In their eagerness, at least 5 kids trod heavily on my flip-flopped feet. A little while later there was a fire drill, and my unprotected toes were stepped on again and then again in the crush of kids in a ridiculously small evacuation area.

Tomorrow is picture day, and although I don't know exactly what I'm going to wear, you can bet my feet will be covered.

Sink or Swim

"Are Sundays painful for y'all?" asked our friend Lauren's mom just a little while ago. We were enjoying a glorious evening while chatting on the stoop, and Jackie, a retired teacher herself, spoke with a knowing tone.

"They sure can be," I said. "In fact, when we left the doggie birthday party we were invited to at 4 this afternoon, I felt like I could barely drag myself home."

She nodded sympathetically.

"But then I asked Heidi if she wanted to go over to the high school pool and swim," I told her, "and even though neither one of us really wanted to? We did! And now I feel pretty good!"

"Well, good for you!" Jackie said. "That's a good way to survive."

No Time like the Present

There was an almost imperceptible hint of Autumn in the air when I took the dog out at 7:30 this morning. The light was a little more golden; the air held the slightest chill. We should go hiking! I thought to myself, and then thought of everything I wanted to do on this first real weekend of the school year: But not today, I concluded.

Later, I was telling Heidi about all the hiking we might do this fall. "But not today," I said.

Just then, the phone rang. It was my brother. "We're going hiking!" he told me. "Want to come?"

"Yes!" I answered, "we do."

And we did.

Canary in the Coal Mine

The "Welcome" assembly hadn't even begun this morning when I spotted one of our most restless students squirming in his seat. I knelt down next to him and quietly asked him to sit in the chair rather than wiggle around on top of its folded seat.

He sighed, crestfallen, and sank into the red velvet theater seat. He wasn't defiant or angry; he was just struggling to be comfortable and still in this structured environment. "If you need a break," I told him, "just ask. I'll be right over there." and I returned to my own seat across the aisle.

He did not take me up on my offer, but as our school administrators went through the annual litany of warnings and don'ts, I watched him as he quietly tapped his foot, rubbed his eyes, pulled his hair, and lightly banged his head on the seat in front of him.

He never bothered anyone, but he was never engaged in the presentation, which was a text-heavy slideshow with a lot of adult narration. For him, it was 45 painful minutes with no gain in knowledge or understanding.

Noted.

Present Day

I'm not sure if it's my years on the job, the kids in my classes, the teachers on my team, the way I spent my summer, or something else, but it sure doesn't feel like it's only the third day of school!