Winter Blahs

I've been absent. Hibernating I guess. After claiming..actually proudly announcing..that I never get sick, it has hit. Sinus infection. I made it to school on Thursday morning only long enough to sit through Mass with my first graders. It was their first one. There was no way I would have missed that. Two of my students who were involved were also ill. I was prepared for one so had another student take her reading (thankfully the student taking her part has about an 8th grade reading ability! She read not only her own part, but the absent student's part). The other absent student was unexpected, but he was only carrying the lectionary, so that one was pretty easy to substitute.

So I'm home sick on Friday, on meds, and will be better on Monday. While I'm feeling lousy, have no energy, no voice, and a sort throat, I thought I'd catch up on reading the blogs I follow and write just a little.

Nothing exciting is happening around here other than I'm waiting for Captain to sneak somewhere and poop in the house since all he wanted to do in the yard this morning was chase back and forth along the tree line looking for a squirrel. Oh, and Erin has no classes today, so she is home with me. She is very excited that she made a fried egg without breaking the yolk.

Am I Being Tested?

I have had a couple of rough days. They happen infrequently, thankfully. Heh! That's it...a number of my family and friends are posting on Face book what they are thankful for, so maybe today's should read I'm thankful that days like the last two don't happen all that often.

I got snapped at about a little thing (at least it was to me) that was an error of omission on my part and unintentional (those are the most hurtful kinds of snaps to receive), one daughter was in an accident (her fault) and I fear the mother of the other driver is going to be one of those who has her son go around wearing a neck brace. I quite by "accident" found out from the officer at the scene that when I left the scene, the mother of the young man (who was positively a gentleman, even though his mother is apparently not a lady) followed him around trying to convince him he was hurt.

I talked to another daughter at around midnight last night, sobbing because of her nasty roommate who has absolutely no respect for the fact that my daughter also lives in the dorm room, bringing people in at all hours, out drinking, never brushing her teeth or taking showers, making the room smell because she smokes and is dirty...you get the picture?

Today I had to rush in and have some of my mid-quarter Progress Reports rerun because I had mistakenly misread or something...the cutoff date for having grades entered into our program and therefore had to adjust some grades. I was in the process of doing that yesterday when my daughter called me to come to the scene of the accident.

I have been quite a bit behind in some things at school. It happens. I'm used to that; but today I fell even further behind when our priest came to visit. Now don't get me wrong; I am thrilled our new priest wants to be involved in the school, but someone needs to explain the situation to him. We have a schedule, we have lessons to teach; time is always the enemy to a teacher. It is THE most challenging thing when it comes to teaching...time management. Even five minutes makes a huge difference to a teacher. Minutes are EXTREMELY VALUABLE in a classroom. He visited my classroom for about 45 minutes or so; he wanted to answer questions from my students. Do you know the kinds of questions first graders come up with?

They are frequently:

1. Not questions at all, but stories or statements (like my mom's cousin's birthday is on Thanksgiving).

2. Questions they couldn't understand even if the priest could answer them himself (like when was the universe created...and being a former engineer, our priest actually tried to answer all the questions like that, in length...like taking five minutes to ten minutes to answer...and by the time he finished he had long lost that child's attention).

3. Repetitive...and even so our priest didn't point out that they were repetitive but answered them again...and at the same length.

4. Embarassing....(I got REALLY lucky this time)

This didn't just happen to me. I think it happened to at least three other teachers. It was exhausting. Oh, also...we had our little letter cards out spread all over the tables getting ready to practice some spelling and by the time he left the kids had theirs all mixed up with their neighbors.

While he was there, one little girl kept putting her foot up on her chair and you could see her underwear, a little boy kept doing what boys (and men) do, and adjusting himself...making me think he had to desperately go to the restroom, some of them became totally uninterested and pulled out a book to read, etc., etc.

And OF COURSE...I didn't know what to do...to say...do I stop him, do I tell him we are out of time, do I tell him they have to probably go to the bathroom, do I cut him off? I mean after our principal, he is sort of the big boss. Will she say anything to him? I think he is a good guy. I just don't think he understands...and.....again...he is a former engineer...they sort of think like lawyers and that is something I know about.

WHAT THE???

So today I'm standing at the Smart Board (aren't I a lucky teacher?) with a background page of primary handwriting lines up so I could model proper form of upper case and lower case letter g. While I am modeling, I'm verbally stating what you do. Something like this: For upper case G, start a bit below the line (just like upper case o), move up to touch the top line, circle to the left, touch the bottom line, come up and stop at the mid line, then trace straight in. I guess that might not make a lot of sense unless you the reader have a piece of primary writing paper and try it.

So if you've never worked with a Smart Board it can get off its alignment a bit. I had aligned it, yet when I started upper case g and said "touch the top line" I didn't quite do it...by a minuscule amount, barely visible to my students I'm sure...except for one.

The "one" who blurted out, and of course without raising his hand..."You didn't touch the top line." Know what else? The "one" has THE WORST handwriting in the classroom and is a complete mess most of the time...snack food on the table and floor....yesterday he dropped fruit roll up on the floor, stepped on it, and proceeded to walk across the classroom carpet, the carpet across the hall to the restroom, and into the restroom, leaving stains the entire way.

This is also the "one" who has holes poked through the zip lock bags in his supply bin that hold his crayons and flash cards, the "one" whose flash cards and letter cards are spilled out of their bags and are loose everywhere in his supply bin, so that 25 other students have to wait on him to get his materials together, the "one" who slows us all down so we get behind, and the "one" who got a red light from me last week and laughed about it.

This is also the "one" who has an extra super long belt that hangs, and he constantly has it pulled up and is chewing on it. His other favorite thing to chew on is a book bag strap while we are lined up to go home. He's the "one" whose shoes are never tied and his shoes are falling off his feet. He is the "one" who wears his food.

When I called him on it, he looked at me blankly. I truly think he has no clue how disrespectful it was, and more importantly, no clue..no realization...of the mess he is. I told him I had certainly (damned well...was what I was thinking) better see perfect G's on his paper when I checked it. So do you think that I saw perfection on his work when I checked it? NOT!

And as irritated, frustrated, angry, and humorous (I hope) as this post sounds, you wanna know what? I KNOW he is one of THE ONES who needs me most, and I honestly don't know if I will be able to make a difference, which is THE most frustrating thing for any teacher!

What's Wrong?

Isn't something wrong when a six or seven year old doesn't know his grandparent's first name? I had my students take home an interview page and asked parents to help them complete the information on one or more of their grandparents.

My students turned them all in today and we took a few minutes to share them. I was naming each interviewee by name so I could connect the student with the grandparent, and I still have one person who has gone unclaimed. I don't get it. I understand they call them Grandma, Pappaw, Nana or whatever...but they actually don't know their grandparent's first or last name????

When one of my students looked confused when I gave directions for making a Grandparent Day card today and stated "What's a grandparent?" I decided there is something very wrong in the world..or maybe very sad.

On a final note, I found that as I read through the interview questions, I found myself almost relating more to the grandparents answering the questions than the parents of my students. Uh...yeah...I can remember black and white television, four channels (no cable, no HBO or anything), gas costing 34 cents a gallon, soda from the machine that cost 15 cents and you pulled it out (and you didn't dare let go 'cause it would slide back in and you'd lose your money), penny candy..25 pieces 25 cents, home made pizza every Friday night from Chef Boyardee kits, drive in movies (our local one sadly closed a year ago), entertaining yourself with a box because you couldn't afford toys, how huge huge huge a treat it was to ever, ever, ever eat out at McDonald's or anywhere (in fact I don't even remember restaurants existing they way they do now), walking home from school for lunch (no school buses)....

Man oh man, I could go on and on. And the scariest thing of all? The prospect that one day soon one of these little kids is going to come up to me and not start to call me "mom" the way they used to do, but they are going to say "Gran......"

And then I will retire.

How Could I Possibly....

...be thinking of autumn. I don't know if it is because summer seems over to me when school starts. I don't know if it is because I was truly satisfied by this summer. I was. It was the closest thing to the summers I remember as a youngster in a long long time...warm days, cool nights, rain enough for the farmers. I don't know if it is because my life is changing since all of the girls are out of high school. Maybe it is just because I love living in Indiana for one important reason. The change of seasons. I love it. I love change.

So for some reason I started thinking about autumn today...the leaves, the crispy days that require a hoodie, layering my clothes, the smell in the air, pumpkins, fall festivals, the orchard, sitting around a bonfire, pots of chili on the stove.

I guess it does have something to do with being back at school, like the opening scene in You've Got Mail when Joe Fox is writing to Kathleen Kelly: "Don't you love New York in the fall? It makes me wanna buy school supplies. I would send you a bouquet of newly sharpened pencils if I knew your name and address."

I think I'll go get my sweaters out of storage.

Seasons Change

I have very mixed emotions about starting school again and thinking of the end of summer.

I'm not complaining. It has been a good summer and I know a lot of that is because of NOT having a foot surgery (I've done that two out of the last four or five summers), because of HAVING a vacation, and because I have really LOVED the weather this summer.

I don't know why I've heard grumbling about cooler weather and a little rain. Most often Indiana in August consists of dead, brown grass and high heat and humidity. I don't think anyone can complain about some rain. We haven't had so much rain that we've had flooding. We've had the kind of rain farmers appreciate and need.

The cooler weather and low humidity have been great. There is nothing better than having windows open, especially at night when you can hear the crickets or cicadas, and can drift away feeling a cool breeze against your skin.

I look forward to a new bunch of students to experience, leaves falling, pumpkins, fresh apple cider, trick or treaters, bonfires and such.

Seasons change and I enjoy change. Being a teacher and experiencing the end of a school year, and then getting excited about starting again, is something people in other careers don't get to enjoy. I'd argue with anyone who says teachers don't work hard. Most of us take classes, read professionally and/or make plans for the coming year during the summer, but these little transitions that go along with the holidays and seasons are refreshing to the spirit.

When I am buying new things and making plans for a new school year, I always sense some wistfulness in my husband who just has to keep plugging along with not so many breaks.

Teaching through the seasons in Indiana is great. It won't be long before we are praying for a snow day though.

Writing and Teaching

One of the reasons I started this blog was because of my love for teaching writing. Since I am an avid fan of a writer's workshop approach, it means I should be writing. The teacher must experience the process of writing in order to understand the student. My writing has been scattered.

Should I unexpectedly die, none of the writing I've done would make much sense to anyone. When my children were small I tried to write to keep a record of my experiences as a mother. I have four children. Need I say more? I didn't have time to be consistent. I have various journals likely buried in drawers, the attic, and who knows where (I don't). No doubt many entries were left without dates.

I've written a bit of poetry, but not for ten years or so. I need to pull it back out. Now that there is some distance from it (ten years should be enough) maybe I'll decide if it is any good. Most people I know who write poetry say their poetry is dark, that the best poetry produced is from the deep, dark self.

Hopefully whoever outlives me won't think I was a narcissistic depressed individual, just based on the snippets I've written. Aren't we all unhappy sometimes? Doesn't some of the best writing come from depressed people....Carson McCullers, Flannery O'Connor, Edith Wharton, Dorothy Parker, Ernest Hemingway, F. Scott Fitzgerald, and William Faulkner, to name only a few. Maybe they shouldn't have ever been labeled as depressed, unhappy people. Maybe they should have been labeled as normal people who were brave enough to write.

So as I enter a new school year, I'm keeping up with my writer's notebook where I'll plant images, snippets of conversations, and observations to use for ideas. I hope also to keep this blog going, but I hope to write more than daily musings and experiences from my personal and teaching life. Maybe I'll plant a little poetry, a little fiction, and a little memoir right here.

I don't know what the rules of blogging are, if there are any. I don't know if mine are too long or too short, I haven't quite figured out how to label my posts into proper categories, but I'll keep reading and writing and try not to worry about exposing myself or offending someone, because I really really....I really must write.