Of Panda Whales and Zebra Bears

3 hour early out day. 20 minute classes. Weird conversations.

 Today’s conversation between two of my boys revolves around the movie “Free Willy”. They are talking quietly in their corner. Eventually, they bring me into the conversation.

STUDENT 1: Mrs. Day, was Willy confined? Think the title “Free Willy”

ME: Yes,

STUDENT 2: See, I told you

ME: (continuing) he was confined and they worked to free him.

STUDENT 1: No. He was free….

I continue working. Other students are typing. They continue talking.

STUDENT 2: (has googled “Free Willy” to prove his point. He shows his computer to the other student)  See, I told you.

STUDENT 1: Nope, right there says he is free.

ME: Actually, I think he’s dead.

STUDENT 1: Yea, that means he’s free.

STUDENT 2: What kind of whale was he? Like a Panda whale? You know, black and white.

ME: (took me a minute)  Yes, we call those killer whales

STUDENT 1: (to the other boy) Have you ever seen a zebra bear?

ME: (Laughing out loud) Best conversation ever.

They are quiet for the rest of the class. But as they leave the room….  “

“Free Willy!”

To My Kindred Spirits

This blog post is the result of several conversations I've had on Twitter the last three days (#iaedchat, #flipclass and #tlap started them all) and a surprise gift in the mail yesterday. All of these events made me realized how lucky I am to have surrounded myself with some of the best minds in education.

Join many wonderful teachers of writers at
TwoWritingTeachers
every Tuesday for more Slice of Life posts

It wasn't that long ago that I felt like a cheesy sit-com teacher because I always tried to see the best in my students, I wanted the best for my students, and I gave my best to my students. Aside from a few like minded teachers,  real life didn't seem that way. I wondered if I cared too much. It was hard work to stay positive and do what I knew in my heart was best for my kids.

And then, I met all of you--my blogging buddies and Twitter tweeps.

My PLN--another "cheesy" term, according to some. Made me an "overachiever" to others (and why is that a bad thing?).

But

The more I listen, the more I learn, the more I engage,
the more I see that the "real teachers" are just like me.

You see the best in your students.
You want the best for your students.
You give the best to your students.
You are cheesy and gushy over how much you love your job and your kids.

You give virtual high fives to celebrate and  hugs when they are needed.
You share your hopes and fears and yes, even lesson plans.
You understand the struggles because you are going through them too.
You cheer at the successes because who doesn't need a standing ovation once in awhile.

So, to all of you, a simple thank-you. The conversations I experience on a daily basis are the things that inspire me to improve. My life is so much richer because of all of you--my kindred spirits.

The Unwritten Vow

It wasn't part of our wedding vows, but it should have been.

I dealt with poopy diapers and poop in the yard.  I dealt with puking kids and puking animals. I kept turtles and frogs and fish in the house when everyone knows those creatures live in the wild (I drew the line at snakes). I killed my share of spiders and other creepy crawlies.

BUT

I will not deal with mice and dead critters.  That's his job. (I'm sure it's written in a husband handbook somewhere.) And it is a hard and fast rule in our house (It tops my No gifts with cords rule).

So when I saw the tell-tale signs of a mouse in the house, I followed the rule and told my husband about it.

"Oh, no. Are you sure?" 

Am I sure? Really? As I am taking all the dish towels out of the drawer and washing them (I'd really like to throw them all and get new ones, but that may be a little extreme), he asks me if I'm sure.

I give him "the look".

"OK. I'll get something tomorrow."

The next night he came home with glue traps. GLUE TRAPS.  The mouse runs across them and gets stuck to the trap. He, of course, talked to people all day about what to use.

"These work great," he proclaims.

"Fine," I answer. "But I will NOT be touching those things after I put them out.  That's your job."

He chuckles. "I know."

A couple of days go by. No signs of anything. Of course, it has warmed up outside. The critters don't need to come in and get warm. Each day I take a peek inside the cupboard under the sink and the towel(less) drawer.

And then it happens.

I peek in the drawer and there it is. A mouse stuck to the trap. I'm sure I looked and sounded like a cartoon character.

"Oooo, oo, oo.  Greeeeggggg.  There's a mouse in the drawer.

"Are you sure?"

Really? Again with the are you sure?  Just because I'm running from a mouse stuck in a glue trap, you question what I saw?

He laughs as he walks to the kitchen (shouldn't he be running to save me?). Opens the drawer. Yep, there's a mouse in there.  He grabs a plastic bag.

"Well, come out here and hold the sack and help me."

Really? I have a serious case of the heebie-jeebies and he wants me to hold the sack.

I don't think so.

"No. I told you when you bought the damn glue traps that I would have nothing to do with this. I will not hold the sack."

He laughs at me again.

"Come on. Just hold the sack.You don't have to touch it or anything. I'll pull out the drawer and dump it in."

See, he's not too fond of this either.

"Oh, I think it's still alive. Maybe I'll get it tomorrow."

Yeah. And I won't be helping you then, either.

Enjoy more Slice of Life stories at Two Writing Teachers!

Expressions of Love

Yesterday was the last day of school. This morning I woke up to a snowstorm.....of toilet paper. I'd been TP'd.  (I don't know how or where this tradition started, but I know it's been going on forever.  Kids did it when I was in high school.)

The scene made me chuckle as I put Chloe outside.  It took me back to my 50th birthday.

My birthday fell on a Saturday that year. It was also the day of state speech contest, so I spent the day with my speech kids. I brought cupcakes and celebrated with my students.

When I got home at about 7, a party was in place. My husband and sons had planned a small surprise party for me. It was great. Friends and family, lots of fun,

Now, some of those friends and family smoked. So, there was usually someone outside having a cigarette.  My friend came in after one of those cigarette breaks. "Deb, I caught some kids trying to TP your house. A car pulled up, a couple of kids got out and started throwing rolls of toilet paper at the crab apple tree. I think I scared them away."

Sure enough, we looked out the window and TP was flying from the front tree. We thought that would be the end of it. But, no.

Later the same friend is outside on the back deck. Same car. Same kids. Same result.

They've been caught twice now. Surely, they are done.

Nope.

Later I'm standing on the back deck with her and the car pulls up. A student gets out and starts walking through my backyard. Now, you have to know that my birthday is in mid-March. In northeast Iowa, that generally means there is snow on the ground. Lots of snow.

As he tramps through the snow, my friend and I are laughing that they are going to get caught again!  I yelled out, "Really. Three times you've been caught. Aren't you done yet?"

"Yea. I'm just looking for my cell phone. I lost it the last time."

I roared.  Karma, as they say, is a bitch.  I went and got a flashlight so he could see in the yard and find his phone.

Several of my speech kids decided to help me celebrate my 50th birthday.  Expressions of love. But they gave me more than that. This is the funniest TP'ing story I know. And I tell it all the time.  That school year, I told everyone about how they got caught three times. We gave them a special award at the speech banquet.  The student who drove "the getaway car", was revealed at the banquet.  It was the most fun I had in a long time.

So this morning when I saw the toilet paper flying, I thought of it as an expression of love. I'm pretty sure I know who did it. My only regret is that school is over.  I could get some mileage out of this!

Today We Walk

Yesterday was our district's annual "Cadets for a Cause" Day. ( I wrote about it last year here). Every building in the district was there, plus the parochialIt was a beautiful day and there were lots of activities going on:

The high school kids went to activities like this rock climbing wall. There was kickball, dodgeball and paintball to keep them busy also.

And, of course, they walked in memory of those they knew with cancer or had lost to cancer.  As a journal topic in creative writing the day before, I asked my students who they were walking for on Wednesday.  Every student, but one, had someone in their life to walk for.  1 out of 40.

Some took some time out to dance to the music the DJ was playing.

There were lots of activities for the elementary and junior high students also. Many of our high school kids helped out at these activities.  There was soccer and bouncy houses and the ever popular train!

Of course, no school activity is complete without food!  In an effort to help our students learn healthy eating habits, there was a smoothy station, a "taste the rainbow" station with fruits and vegetables to try, a milk station, and bottled water and string cheese.






Once, the time for activities was over, all K-12 students gathered in the stands at the football stadium. We were joined, as always, by many members of the community.

Our speaker from the "Live Strong" organization had people in the bleachers stand up if they were survivors, then had people stand if they had someone in their family affected by cancer, and then if they knew someone with cancer or who had lost their battle with cancer.  By then, most were standing.  It's a powerful scene.

When he was done, one of our seniors, whose 23-year-old brother was just diagnosed with cancer at the end of March also spoke. She read his words from his Caring Bridge page.


The district's students raised over $7000 this year. The money was divided between our local cancer association and St. Jude's Children's Hospital.  A canned food drive was also held this last week.  The food bank was amazed when the food was delivered to them, and very thankful. Their coffers were getting low!

The culmination of this annual event has traditionally been a survivor walk, but this year, the survivors met on the football field and were given yellow balloons, which were later released.

And then, to lighten the mood, when the event was over, all K-12 students, and many teachers, gathered on the football field to do the Interlude (a dance made up by University of Northern Iowa students that has gone viral.  Look it up on YouTube!)  As I've said many times, we don't just teach reading and writing and math.  Sometimes, we teach compassion.....

Photo by Tanya Riehle
See more of her amazing art work at
http://thebluehousestudio.blogspot.com/

Can't Never Did Anything

An ostrich. That's what he always reminded me of. A very tall man, he wore black framed glasses that always seemed to be at the end of his Jimmy Durante nose.  He was about as big around as a corn stalk, with the longest, skinniest legs I'd ever seen on human being. He could sit in a chair, cross the left leg over the right,  then tuck the left foot behind the right leg and have both feet FLAT on the floor.

Really. Try it. Then get back to me.

He scared the crap out of me the first time I had him for class. It seemed like he bellowed all the time. He didn't, but it seemed like it. He treated everyone the same, whether they were in plays or not. If you took a speech or drama class from him, then you better be ready to perform. And you better do your best. When he came up to me and asked me to try out for the school play, I was afraid to say no.

But I was also thrilled.

That was Mr. Gail Niceswanger (how'd you like that name as a high school teacher?)--my high school speech and drama coach. The greatest teacher I ever had.

During rehearsals, there was the ever present thermos of coffee at his feet, a pencil tucked behind his ear, and, if rehearsals were going all sorts of wrong, there was a cigarette in the corner of his mouth and a cloud of smoke circling his head.

Mr. Niceswanger never let you give anything less than your best. As a sophomore, out for my first play, I made the mistake of telling him I couldn't do something he'd asked of me.

"Porter," (he seldom called people by their first names), "Can't never did anything."

Huh?

But I got it.  If you don't try things, you don't know if you can do them.  You have to at least try.

I worked harder for him than at any time in my life.  I like to think he smiles down on me when he sees me coaching speech and taking kids to All-State. I like to think he approves of the activities in my speech and (yea) drama classes (next year!).

I never thanked him for the confidence he gave me during my high school years. I believe if it wasn't for him, I would have given up, not graduated college, never became a teacher, even though it's all I ever wanted to do.

Sometimes, we teach kids more than reading and writing and math.

Sometimes, we give them wings.

So, thanks Mr. Niceswanger.  I wouldn't be here without you.

Worth the Effort

A student's accident prompted my little rant today.  She's not a bad kid (and really, no one has said she is), but the first comment I heard from someone today was "I wonder if she'd been drinking?"  It kind of rankled me and it got me thinking about the double standard we apply to kids.

We get a little jaded in education.  We sometimes think we have it all figured out.  We think we know just how to reach kids. We think we know which ones are the "good" kids and worth the effort and we think we know which ones are the "bad" kids and we should just write them off.

Kids don't change, you see. Kids don't grow up and mature. Kids don't realize they need to step up.

The "good" kids,

• the ones worth the effort, 
• the ones that would never cheat 
• the ones that would never party on a Saturday night
• the ones that make us think school is their number one priority

if something happens to one of them, everyone is is a tizzy.  The whole school would be on alert.

• "Oh, the poor parents."
• "What can we do to help?"
• "I wonder what happened?"

But, the "bad" kids,

• the ones not worth the effort
• the ones that do whatever it takes to get through school because no one cares
• the ones that let loose on Saturday night
• the ones that let us know school is not the top thing on their list 

when something happens to them, the first words spoken are, "I wonder if he was drinking?  She must have been partying somewhere. Great. Now they'll be behind again." No one considers that they might have just been driving down the road.

But

let's not forget, that those "bad" kids, the ones not worth the effort, the ones that people write off, they are someone's kid. Someone loves them. Someone was scared senseless with a late night phone call. Someone thinks they are worth the effort.

And they are.

"I Am Not Invisible"

I read many student pieces in the course of a year.  Many attempts at honesty. Many attempts at poetry. Many attempts at storytelling and personal memoirs.

Never have I become so engrossed in a piece that I quit reading it as a teacher and just read it as a reader.  But, this morning, sitting in my comfy pink chair in the front of the room, I dropped my Flair and read an incredible piece of writing.

A memoir told in verse, (17 poems, to be exact.) this student revisited a dramatic incident from her high school life last year.  She recounted her side of a story that everyone in the building knows. She told it honestly, with no excuses for her behavior. Just the reasons.

She showed through her words how she has grown through the experience. I understand why she doesn't regret her choices. I applaud her for standing up for herself.

I laughed. I cried. I cheered. I am in awe. It was truly the most fabulous piece of student writing I have read in a very long time. I wish I could share it with you all.  It teaches lessons far beyond her experience.

It haunts me still, hours later. 

I can't get it out of my mind.

Mrs. J

She looked like the stereotypical farm wife--housedress, Keds tennis shoes on her feet, no frills, just her wedding ring and a handkerchief.  She loved deer hunting in the fall and "her kids" the rest of the year. She always had a smile on her face and I don't know if I ever heard her raise her voice.  She didn't need to.


I received the email that she passed away on Saturday.  Mrs. J, as she was fondly referred to, wasn't the world's best teacher--but she was one of the most loved teachers I have ever worked with. Young adults in their 30's remember sitting in her class, vying for the infamous sour balls she kept in her room.  (I'm sure she must have owned stock in the company).  Even when she was a sub in her later years, there were always sour balls for the good, the bad, the loud, the lonely.  I'm not sure what it took exactly to be rewarded with a sour ball, but you felt special when you earned one.


I first met Mrs. J in about 1988, when I took a long term sub position in sixth grade.  She had the room across the hall from me.  I loved hearing the learning and the fun coming from her classroom. Especially considering I was teaching from the notecards in the box on the desk, a sure sign that the teacher I was teaching for never changed her lesson plans. Mrs. J always had practical advice, and she made sure I had back up when I needed it. 


While she loved all her students, boys seemed  to be her favorite. And they loved her. My oldest son's  Facebook status on Sunday, "Goodbye Mrs. J. You're one of the reasons I want to be a teacher." And it's true. His love of history and his wanting to be a teacher are a direct result of her teaching in fifth grade.  


A colleague posted, "When people ask me who my favorite teacher of all time is, the answer is so simple for me. No doubt in my mind Mrs. J was the one. She gave me my nickname of Rah back in 5th grade and it has stuck with me through the years. You have touched so many lives and will be missed by so many!"


Mrs. J had to retire when her husband became ill.  She wasn't ready to go. We all knew that. After he passed away, she came back to sub and continued until about five years ago.  I don't know how old she was, but she continued teaching long after most would have. And she will be missed...

Failure

Failure is a funny thing.
If we don't do something quite right, we failed.
If we don't connect with each and every student, we failed.
If, heaven forbid, a student has more issues than we can deal with, we fail.

We tend to focus on the one
Forgetting about the many.
We want a magic potion to fix what needs fixing.
We want the giant S we wear under our clothing to mean something.

What we really need to do is
Be kind to ourselves.
We need to realize
Even the wisest people on the planet
have failed.
And sometimes, a student has to have the desire
To succeed.

Dear Mrs. Day

He was never given much of a chance. In fact, one of his teachers declared it Christmas when he was removed from school and sent away.

He was 15 years old.

Academically challenged.
Poor home life.
Anger issues.

Students loved to say and do things that set him off. 

It happened several times. Yelling and screaming. A broken window. A knife.  

People at times were understandably afraid of him.  There were plans in place to handle him. You were never to yell at him in front of others, or even to point out when he was in the wrong.  Basically, if he was in your class, you handled him with kid gloves.

A recipe for trouble.

I remember the first day I really talked to him.

Three years ago in May, I sat in the library while my students were researching a speech.  He was sitting at a different table with the man who was his one on one aide.  The man was a retired teacher hired just to follow this student around, and make sure he got some work done in class. But mostly, this man was hired to make sure the student didn't fight with others in the hallway.

The boy came over and sat down beside me.

"Mrs. Day, can I talk to you about speech?"
"Sure. What do you want to know?"

He, like most freshmen, was afraid to take my class.  Mostly, because it was speech, but, also, he had heard in junior high that I was tough. We talked for the entire class period.

There were minor incidents in my classroom the semester I had him in class, but for the most part, he was a good kid.  He worked hard on his speeches and really liked doing them.  He always did his best for me. And I always let him know when he did well.

He came back for a visit a few weeks ago.  He had just been released from the facility where he was sent. We chatted for quite awhile. I asked about what he did in the facility and how he was doing now.

"It was pretty good, Mrs. Day.  They really helped me handle my anger issues. I haven't hit anybody in months.  I also got caught up on my classes. I might be able to graduate with my class next year."

He wants to go into the service.  I'm not sure how that will go, but it might be just the thing he needs. Structure and discipline. Something he didn't get a lot of at home.

Why did I write about this young man. Because today, you see, I got a letter in my school mailbox.  The grammar wasn't correct, nor was the punctuation.  But it was sincere. And the last line made me cry--

In all Mrs. Day, I would like to say thank-you for believing in me.


And that is why I teach.

You're Gonna Have to Share That Bagel....(27/31)

"May I have your attention please.  We are now going into a Shelter in Place lock down.  Please stay in your classrooms until further notice.  This is not an emergency situation. Continue on with class as normal. Please do not text or use your cell phones."

I make sure my door is locked and sit down at my desk. This is my third hour speech class. If I have to be locked in a room for an indeterminate about of time, this is the class I want to be locked down with.  There's not an annoying kid in the bunch. And, they are pretty funny in their own way.

Immediately, the chatter begins.

"What's that mean?"  I explain that something is happening and to be safe, they want everyone to stay in the classroom."

"Is this a drill?"
"Probably not," I explain "As Mr. F said, it isn't a dangerous situation, but we need to stay in the room.

"How long will we be here?"
"I don't know. You could be here all day.  And if we stay in lock down, I'm sure glad I'm locked in with this class rather than several others."
They giggle and smile.

"Can we leave and go to the bathroom?"
I laughed, "No. No one can leave."
"But I have to go.  What if it's an emergency."
"I guess we'll hold up a blanket and you can use the garbage can."  (I'm being sarcastic. The students takes me seriously.)
"Do you have kleenex?"  they say, looking around the room.
"Yep. And I actually have a roll of toilet paper over there on the computer cart."

"What about lunch?"
"No. We have to stay in the room."

"We are still in a Shelter in Place lock down. Remain in your classrooms and continue on with your normal procedures."
This is easier said than done.

"Are we going to miss 4th period?"
"Maybe."
"Yea!  I don't want to go to Math."

"Can you hear our stomachs growling, Mrs. Day?  They keep taking turns."

"Really. Are we going to miss lunch?"
A conversation about food begins.  They love the bagels on Tuesday at lunch. Several girls say they always eat salad bar on Tuesday just so they can have a bagel.

Another announcement. We need to stay in the room even though fourth period will be starting.

"Yea! I'd much rather stay here."
"But what about lunch/ I'm really hungry."
"Maybe they will bring sack lunches to us."

I quietly take inventory of the supplies in my room. I keep breakfast items in my cupboard because I seldom remember to eat breakfast before I leave for school.

"Well, I have a few breakfast bars, a bagel (yes--a lunch bagel), and three containers of chocolate pudding. I'll share if I have to. But I won't share my water. You die faster from dehydration than starvation, you know." I know--a bit sarcastic. But it lightens the mood.

They aren't concerned about the water, just the food.

"Really?  You have food!"
"Yep. And I'll share."

Collectively, they calm down.

They continue chatting and researching.

A stomach growls.

"Mrs. Day, you're gonna have to share that bagel...."

Follow-Ups: Novels, Author-To-Be, and Inservice (15/31)

Today's post is in three parts.

Part 1: Young Adult Novel Unit.
My freshmen finished reading their novels yesterday.  Really. They finished.  And all but maybe two liked the books they chose. Really. Liked a book. Liked reading.

And the kicker is. THEY WANT TO DO IT AGAIN.  As they turned in their activities yesterday, I handed them a small square of paper.  I told them I wanted them to write me a note about this unit.  They were to be totally honest. I just wanted to know if they really liked the unit. If they thought I should do it again next year. What they thought about the timing and the activities. They could tell me anything they wanted to.

Only one student didn't like the unit. One out of forty. And I think her biggest problem was she didn't like the book she chose.

I may do it again before school is out. Maybe after Romeo and Juliet....

Part 2: My Author-To-Be
If you've ever wondered about the expression "Over the moon", I have the perfect example today--my author-to-be. She's dancing and giggling around school today because the book her poem was published in arrived in the mail! I'm sure she has shown every teacher at the school and most of the students.  I put congratulations in the morning announcements, just in case she forgot anybody.


Part 3:  What Teacher's Do at Inservice

Yesterday was inservice.  Our students let out at 12:15, but we don't have anything scheduled until 1:00.  Usually, most of us spend that time working in our rooms. But the last couple, our new principal and the Building Leadership Team have planned little activities for us.  Yesterday, being Pi Day, one of our math teachers brought pie (after another one got pie in the face! Fundraising at it's best!). So of course, we ate!

And, if you felt the need to work the pie off--or the stress of the week--there was badmiton set up in the gym. Not nearly as many people opted for the badmiton!

I'm hoping for "rolly" chair races next time!

You Matter: An Open Letter to My Speech Kids

This has been a crazy year with you guys. I wasn't sure I could coach all of you alone, without a co-coach. But I am very protective of you. Not just anyone could step in and work with you, so I decided to give it a try.  I told you all you would have to step up and help me out. And you have. You've helped with the mundane tasks like filling out the letter point sheets, double checking the old sheets, and going over registration sheets and making sure I haven't left anyone out. 

Then came time for the real work of contest speech. 

Rehearsals.

At the beginning of the season, you "old timers" took the "newbies" and showed them how it's done. And you helped them. You didn't leave them out, or view them as competition.  You rehearsed with them, you gave them pointers, you cheered them on when it was time to perform.  

I saw teamwork with the large group events.  You didn't complain when I asked you to take "the freshmen" and make sure they got where they needed to go, with what they needed to have.  You hauled props, carried my box of essentials, and made sure everyone had a supportive audience. Even at state, when we had to leave at 4:30 in the morning so a couple of us could leave to go to Honor Band.

And then individual started.  42 events. Each needing to be rehearsed once a week. Not kidding you, I wasn't looking forward to it. 

But you know what. You stepped up again. From freshmen to seniors, you stepped up. 

You rehearsed each other!

Friday night amazed me.  You just took over the school. Rehearsals were everywhere. That's dedication (Ok, so it was also a little panic setting in. It stilled showed dedication). People came in to rehearse with me, sometimes not during their time. I was running late, but no one complained. You just kept practicing on your own until I could get to you. 

I just smiled at one point as I stepped into the hall. Amid the teasing and laughing and messing around, there was serious work happening.  I loved it.

Saturday came. 

And here is where the magic happened for me. I watched all of you throughout the day. (I know. Not your performances--it's impossible for me to get to them all). So, I walked the halls and haunted the gym. You made sure that your friends had a hand to hold, a shoulder to lean on, and a supportive audience. You took the others in your category and rehearsed with them. You calmed down the jitters. You fired people up. You watched as many people perform as you could. 

And you were there when the ratings came out. Judges can be tough. And I can say all the right words, but it's you who makes a difference.  You cheered for those who received Division 1's. They deserved it. Hard work pays off. 

But for those who didn't receive those ones, you were magnificent. Because sometimes, hard work doesn't pay off. You were indignant. You were astonished. You held hands. Gave shoulders to cry on. Talked quietly about performances. 

I have never been more proud of students in my life. Being a speech kid isn't always easy. I know sometimes you get teased about it. It takes a lot of dedication, self-confidence, and self-discipline. It takes heart and compassion.

I always talk about you as my "speech kids" (and you are my kids, you know). But calling you kids doesn't seem to be enough this year.  I looked up the word "team" this morning. Most of those definitions didn't seem to fit you either. Until I got to Wikipedia:

"A team comprises a group of people or animals linked in a common purpose. Teams are especially appropriate for conducting tasks that are high in complexity and have many interdependent subtasks.

A group in itself does not necessarily constitute a team. Teams normally have members with complementary skills and generate synergy through a coordinated effort which allows each member to maximise his/her strengths and minimise his/her weaknesses. Team members need to learn how to help one another, help other team members realize their true potential, and create an environment that allows everyone to go beyond their limitations.^[1]

Yep--you are a team! And, you will, always and forever, be MY KIDS!

Smiling My Way To A 4 Day Weekend

Because of two nights of conferences this week, we have Friday off as a compensation day. Monday is President's Day and we have that off too.  Hallelujah! A four day weekend.  Time to relax and enjoy.

As I left about 6:00pm after rehearsals with some of my speech kids, I met a student coming down the hall. A student I have been working with off and on all year. He has lots going on in his life and school and homework are not at the top of his list of things to do.. He's failing several classes and he's much too smart to fail anything.  I check with him every day about work he has to do. Work he's missing. What he's going to work on in study hall.  I nag him.

"Hey. What are you doing back?" I laughingly ask.

A small grin appears on his face.

"I came back to get the stuff for my science poster so I can get it done this weekend."

Success.

I'm still smiling.

When Art Teachers Are Bored

We've had spring conferences the Monday and Tuesday nights (two twelve hour days in a row. UGH) At the high school level, spring conferences are notoriously slow.  They are better now that parents may schedule conferences online, but still, at this time of year, they are slow. Especially Tuesday night, when our boys basketball team had a big game out of town.  In four hours, I had five conferences. FIVE. I had one of the bigger nights. Some only had one or two. Some had none.

It was good for me because I crossed many things off my to-do list. I did, however, find a little time to check out Pinterest (everyone needs a little brain break!).  I found these really cute paper roses:

Source: southernpiphi.tumblr.com via Deb on Pinterest

The art teacher down the hall from me saw them on my board. An email from her said, "I'm bored. Pick one."  There was a link   http://mybohemiansummer.tumblr.com/SuperSweetTutorials

Directions for lots and lots of lovely paper flowers.  I didn't even have time to pick one before she showed up in my room with a couple made from a book page.

 Periodically throughout the evening, she would come in with another one. By the end of the night, I had received a lovely bouquet and a container to keep them in.

Gotta love bored art teachers!

He Loves Me

My husband and I aren't the lovey, dovey, gag me kind of couple.  Never have been. But, I know he loves me.

• He turns off the bedroom TV when I fall asleep in front of it.
• When people call after 9, he tells them I'm in bed ('cause I usually am!)
• He tells them I'm busy when they call  on Sunday bath nights
• He calls and says, "How about we order out tonight?"
• He cooks.
• He "lets"  me stay at the lake most of the summer while he has to go home to work.
• He defends teachers--especially to the "Must be nice to be off at 4" or "Must be nice to have the summer off" people.  

District speech contest is this weekend, so as always, he was going to go and visit his brother tonight.  He hates to stay home alone.  But with a  snowstorm coming, he probably wouldn't have made it today, so he went last night.

When I got home late from school, the outside light was on so I could see, the shovel was pulled across the cement in front of the house--over the ice patch that has formed, and the kitchen light was on.

But what made me chuckle was the note on the fridge board. I guess he thought I wouldn't notice these things...

Deb

Walk along the fence.

Big ice patch has formed from faucet.

Out of milk soon.

Love,

Greg

Even when he's gone, he's here and taking care of me.  That's love.

Thanks for Being Tough

Dear Mrs. Day,

You know how most of my speech was about victory and survival? Well, ironically, I can't believe I survived that! I mean, my speech was better than I had expected, but I would never have DREAMED  I could turn a four- minute speech into one that might just as well have been a perfect 6 minutes long! Thank you SO much for pushing me like you have in this semester! If you had gone any easier on me, my grade would be even worse than it is now (plus I would still be a chicken on the stage today!)

I often feel like I've failed kids. That I haven't done enough for them.  But not this student. The student from the above email, I actually felt like I was picking on him at times.

He's in a wheelchair, you see.  Spina Bifida. My instinct was to coddle him.  But I soon realized, he had had enough of that. And it was his body that was handicapped, not his mind.

In addition to being in a wheelchair, he had also been home-schooled (Don't jump all over me. I have had some excellent students who have been home schooled. But some, including this one, don't have the skills, social and otherwise, needed to "survive" in the school setting).

In talking to Mom at conferences, she appreciated most of the challenges going to high school afforded him. She wanted us to be tough.  And things happened that made me tough with him.  

Fast forward to last Friday morning before school.  It's our annual staff Christmas Breakfast potluck.  We all look forward to it.  Shortly before school starts, I see him sitting in his chair outside the library door.  I just know he's looking for me.

"Mrs. Day, I really need more time for my speech.  I haven't got it memorized, it's not long enough. I just need more time to prepare."

It's tempting to just say OK.  But it is clearly written on the assignment handout I give all students that once the order is set for speeches, there is no changing.  And if you skip are really sick the day you are supposed to give your speech, then you go to the end of the list.  Or maybe, you just receive a zero. Depends on the case.

His case is this.  Once he has a computer in his hand, it gets all of his attention. He hears nothing--not people talking around him, not bells, not directions.  And even though somewhere in his backpack is a sheet entitled "Commencement Address" filled with all the important information one would need to complete this final speech, he doesn't remember this. Or if he does, like all students, he thinks he is the exception to the rule.

I explain all this to him.  Again.  (he also accidentally deleted his speech once during the time we were working on it)

"Go down to my room and go over the speech. You are giving it today. It might be short, it might not be memorized. But it is not fair to the people behind you on the list for you to get more time.  It is now or never."

"Fine," he snapped as he rolled down to my room.

By the time class started and a few others presented, he was ready.  And you know what?  It was quite good.  A little short. Not memorized.  But good.  And as you can see by the email at the beginning of this post, he learned more than just how to give a graduation speech.

Thankful Memories

I never planned on living in my hometown forever.  Always knew that I would move away and start my life somewhere else (even though it ended up only three hours away). But I never considered what that really meant.

Kids sick and needed to miss a day of school?  My friends called their moms, sisters or mother-in-law. Me, I had to stay home.

Family member with a serious illness?  You can't just jump in the car and drive across town to the hospital to visit or stop by to see how everything's going.

Holidays?  Takes some planning.

And then we met Tom and Brenda.  Well, actually, Tom and I met first when we were Cub Scout leaders together, but it wasn't long before the four of us became close friends. Thanksgiving became our holiday because we couldn't spend it with family for a variety of reasons.  For 20+ years we have spent this holiday together.  Our kids have grown up celebrating with this other part of our family. And obviously, there are many, many memories.

The kids "painted" the turkeys for several years when we cooked them on rotisseries.  It was their job to keep them painted with the melted butter. Those were the years we also did "turkey updates" with the camcorder--news reports that recorded the day for posterity!

The kids went sledding some years and played football and rode bikes in others.

I had to take one of ours to the ER the day after one year to make sure that the football injury wasn't more serious than what I thought.

Some years it was just our two families. But many times we had other "homeless" friends, those who needed a friendly place to spend the holiday. Sometimes friends just stopped by to join in the fun. The only rule was, you brought a dish to share that was important to your Thanksgiving memories. One year, when Tom and Brenda's oldest was home from college, he brought foreign exchange students to join us. Sushi was one of our side dishes that year.

Our sons and their families have their own plans this year. Tom and Brenda moved a couple of hours away two years ago, so my husband and I are driving there Thursday morning. Friends and family will join us. We'll cook too much food, laugh over old memories and make some new ones.  We'll play cards and watch football. Some will head out Friday morning for Black Friday deals. And as always, we'll be thankful for friends who have become family.