Unqualified

I had breakfast with an old friend this morning. Ruth and I have known each other since 1991 when we entered a graduate program in education. After we graduated, I got a job at the school where she was already working, but she gave up teaching in public schools a short while later. Since then, she has done a lot of different things, all in education and theater, her first love.

These days, she and her family live just far away enough that we don't see each other as often as we'd like, so it's always great to have a chance to catch up.

"So what's the deal?" she asked me as we sipped our coffee. "Are you retiring or what?"

"It's so funny that you think I would know that with only four months left in the school year," I laughed, "believe it or not, I still haven't made up my mind."

"What's the holdup?" she said.

I shrugged. "If I had something I knew I wanted to do, I would definitely retire," I told her. "As it is, though, I only know what I'm dreading for next year: a new curriculum, going back earlier in August, all the hoops they make us jump through." 

"There must be so many jobs you would be good at!" she replied.

"Maybe," I agreed. "I'm pretty good at job-doing, but I sure don't have the job-finding skillset. I have had the same job for more than 30 years!"

"I know," she nodded. "I helped you get it."

"See what I mean?" I sighed. 

Poking Along

"So my phone got taken away the other day," an 8th-grader told me recently. She was a former student who had stopped by after school to catch up. Or rather to catch me up with her; I could barely get a word in edgewise.

"What happened was my mom said she was going to take it away, and I said, 'You always say that but you never do!' and then she took it away."

"Oof," I managed before she continued.

"And when I told my world geography teacher, he wasn't even sympathetic! He just laughed and said I poked the goat or something," she sighed.

"It's 'poke the bear'," I told her.

"Whatever," she waved her hand. "I actually like 'goat' better because to be honest, my mom is the G.O.A.T," she reported with a shrug. She looked at me as if I was unfamiliar with the term and clarified. "You know? Greatest of all time? My mom is truly the greatest mom of all time."

"Well at least you don't hold grudges," I said.

Connections

The grand finale of Kindness Week was for each homeroom to collaborate and create a poster that expressed why kindness matters. "The most creative gets a prize," I informed my group, "so let's think about it."

We brainstormed, tossing ideas back and forth, but nothing really captured our attention. "Let's do Connections," suggested a student after a while.

"No!" I said, thinking he meant the NY Times word game we enjoy playing together. "We can't play a game until we have an idea!" Then I turned my head. "Or did you mean let's do Connections for our poster theme?"

He nodded. 

"I think that's genius!" I proclaimed, and the rest of the kids agreed with me. 

So the next day we came up with a list of words associated with kindness and looked for commonalities. We were all crowded around the whiteboard writing, erasing, circling, making suggestions and tweaks until at last we had sixteen words that could be sorted into four not-too-obvious categories. "This is the most fun I've ever had at school," one student said quite sincerely. "It's way better than game day!"

Another student did a little online research and discovered a website that allows you to create your own Connections game, based on the NY Times model. She plugged our words and categories into it, and we created a QR Code to go along with the poster.

"I'm sure we're going to win!" another kid crowed.

"Maybe," I said. "I guess it depends on whether the judges know the game."

"I don't care if we win," said someone else. "This was a good bonding experience for us."

I'd have to agree.

See for yourself:

 

A Good Walk Spoiled

Five years ago, when they were building an elementary school in our school's parking lot, the temporary parking solution involved finding a space either on the street or in the lot down by the tennis courts two blocks away. The second option required us to walk around the community soccer fields, tennis courts, basketball courts, and school garden on our way into the building. Generally? The walk was not a problem, although foul weather made it a bit unpleasant at times. Even so, I came to enjoy the extra activity right before and right after my work day. It was a time to decompress, be outside, and depending on the time of day, be a part of the community that uses the fields.

When the elementary school opened, our parking moved to an underground garage beneath it, which was much closer to the entrance of our school. One of the concerns about building another school so close to our own was always traffic flow; both schools use the same narrow bus lane and loop; the garage entrance is right there, too, and the drop-off for students is not clearly demarcated and over by the other school. So let's just say that any teacher arriving after contract time in the morning will definitely get jammed up before being able to park and enter the building, which is a frustrating and stressful way to start your day.

Lately, I have returned to parking by the tennis courts. It's far enough way that I can park with ease, and the walk is still kind of nice. I've been really talking it up to Heidi, too, and this morning when we rode in together, I was looking forward to showing her how much better parking over there is than fighting the traffic.

We heard a dog barking frantically when we pulled in. "Animal Control is here," Heidi noted, gesturing to the white van idling diagonally across three spaces. 

A group of three people with their dogs were talking with concerned looks on their faces by the tennis courts. "Maybe there's a raccoon in the trash can," I guessed.

"I'm pretty sure it's that dog," Heidi pointed.

Sure enough, a medium brown pitbull mix was pacing and barking in the chainlink pitching cage over by the baseball diamond. As we approached, an animal control officer with a wire trapline calmly approached and entered the gate. She quickly cornered the dog and slipped the loop around its shoulders. We continued toward school as she secured a leash on the now quiet dog. On the concrete slab of the enclosure, we saw a light blue blanket and a toy carrot.

"He must've been left there," I said, and I felt my throat tighten at the idea. I couldn't shake the image of someone caring enough for a dog to give it a blanket and a toy, but feeling forced for some reason to abandon it. Heidi and I walked on in silence.

"I guess this wasn't the best morning for parking over here," I sighed. 

The Choice Is Yours

 It's Kindness Week here at school and we have been doing plenty of activities in homeroom that center around being nicer. One of the kids has been having none of it, though. he's been dismissive and snarky at every opportunity. 

"Come over here," I invited him to my desk while the other students were working on "Kindness Cups" to show their appreciation for an adult in the building. "What is going on with you?" I asked. "Why are you being so negative?"

"I don't really believe in kindness," he told me sincerely.

"Why?" I replied.

"When I was in fifth grade there was this kid who was nice to me sometimes and mean to me other times," he began. "Once a teacher saw him being mean and they made him apologize. The next day he brought me something and gave it to me in front of the teacher, so she would think he was really sorry, but later he told me he didn't mean it."

"That was an awful thing for him to do," I agreed, "but that's why we are focusing on how to be kind ourselves. We can't control how other people act; we can only choose how we want to behave." 

He nodded, but he still seemed doubtful. All the while he had been enjoying the Valentine's Day lollipop I had given him. He eyed the bag, looking at the leftovers.

"I'll tell you what," I said. "I'll give you another lollipop, and you can either give it away or keep it for yourself. It's your choice."

"Do I have to tell you what I do?" he asked.

"Nope," I answered and handed him the candy. "Happy Kindness Week."

Cumulative

When we are finished with our required activities, my homeroom loves to do online geography puzzles, news quizzes, and word games. One of our favorites is Connections by the NY Times. Each day players are given a block of 16 words and the challenge is to sort them into four categories of four words each. The criterion varies; in addition to thematic similarities, it could be a spelling commonality, pronunciation, completing common phrases, or something else.

The other day one of the solutions was bob, weave, cross, hook. "Oh! Those are boxing terms!" I explained as I stood at the smart panel. Then I pantomimed each one.

"You know how to box?" asked a student incredulously.

"I know the basic moves," I disclosed. "I've taken a few classes."

"What haven't you done?" asked another student in admiration.

"Well, I have been around a while," I laughed, "and I like to stay busy!"

Peer Feedback

There is a certain sixth grader in one of my classes who may be a bit more argumentative than necessary. 

Whenever I remind, redirect, or refocus him, instead of returning to the task at hand, he usually tells me why whatever he is doing is acceptable. His tone is often a bit smug, and I, never one to shy away from an argument, am usually willing to elaborate as to what I observed in contrast to what I asked the class to do, sometimes in a firm voice.

We had one of those interactions this morning at the beginning of class. He was having a conversation with another student across the room, and I was ready to start instruction, so I asked them both to turn around and stop talking. The other student complied, but this guy sighed and gave me the stinkeye and remained turned toward the other student rather than pivoting toward the front of the room. When I asked again, he had several reasons why he couldn't move his body and chair, but suffice it to say that he did just that a short time later.

Returning to the question day, I pointed out that it was kindness week and asked everyone to post one thing they could do to increase kindness in our classroom. There were suggestions of giving compliments, lending supplies, listening to me and each other respectfully, and helping in other ways, but five of the 18 students present pointedly wrote that if students stopped arguing with and interrupting the teacher our class would be a much kinder place.

Ouch.