Spring Break, Part 2

Love, love, love the quiet little break that doesn't require packing and much movement at all. The beach will be there in 7 weeks, so I am not interested in fighting the teenagers who are cramming into every nook and cranny along the Atlantic and Gulf Coasts. The morons who plan our calendar decided last year that we should come back from Spring Break and take the Big State Test. You read that right - we go back next Monday and start testing Tuesday. I can't explain it, I just have to deal with it. I start knitting class tonight. So excited!! My sister is a great knitter and can knock out lovely baby sweaters - I am hoping to get going really well and then knit a pair of socks. That's my goal. I've made a hat for myself in the past, but socks? Well, they just look hard. And what great Christmas presents! ( And yes, I am thinking about Christmas presents because the morons who plan our calendar have decided that we will be in school until the afternoon of December 23rd. And I have promised to take grades every day that week - if I have to be there, you'd better be there, too. And, no, thankyouverymuch, you aren't going to be able to make them up.) Farmer's Market Saturday was extraordinary! Green beans, beets, squash! Even a few Florida tomatoes. Dinner tonight will be a delish chicken pot pie made by the local pie maker along with some tasty veggies on the side. The Plains were beautiful this weekend. Saw Prep and had a great day with her. We're going to see her two more times - A Day and Easter - and then she'll be home for good on Mother's Day weekend. One more change to get used to!

Lest We Forget

This pretty much says it all for me. I was teaching school that day. I didn't have a homeroom and for some reason, I didn't feel compelled to turn on the morning announcements and then the Today Show, as was my custom. Prep was in 4th grade and BrownBear had just started kindergarten. (She was still dew-eyed and almost chubby cheeked; the very essence of angelic.) I went about my morning routine, taught my first class and had started second period when the principal came over the intercom and said, "Teachers, what has occurred this morning has been a terrible national tragedy. However, it is in the best interests of our students for us to turn off the TVs in the building and continue on with our regular day." My students and I looked at each other and went "national emergency?" They begged me to turn on the TV and the goody two shoes that I am, I wouldn't do it. I had just been told by the guy in charge to turn it off; I bloody well wasn't going to ignore his request in front of a room full of 7th graders.

As soon as the bell rang and I got rid of those students, I turned on my TV. The Art teacher, the Speech teacher and a few others ran into my room and we watched what had already unfolded. The towers were down, the Pentagon was in flames and a plane was down in the Pennsylvania countryside.

Tom Brokaw said that Foggy Bottom was on fire and that the White House and Capitol were under alert.

I will never forget that.

I had ridden the Metro past Foggy Bottom (the State Department stop) all during my college internship.

But the real kick in the stomach was the fact that my only brother-in-law worked for Merrill Lynch in the World Trade Center. The one that was already gone.

Cellphone service was gone and there was a line for the only working phone on my hall: the band teacher had cancelled after school practice and every kid in the band was calling his parents. Believe me - I pulled rank and cut. I couldn't get LawyerBoy, I couldn't get my sister (who later told me that she could see the Pentagon burning from her school, I couldn't get my parents, I couldn't get my brother (who was working somewhere near Dick Cheney's hideout in Pennsylvania) and finally, finally, I got my in laws, who calmly informed me that the ShoeKing, who wasn't the ShoeKing at the time, hadn't gone to work that day at all.

And that's when I lost my crap. I could hardly form words but I made them promise to go find out how Prep and BrownBear were. And then I pulled it back together, because I had a room full of 8th graders, dwindling by the minute, who were waiting for me to come be teachergirl.

I don't know what I did that day, but I sure would like to see a repeat of what passed for a lesson.

BrownBear and Prep had a million questions that night and I'm not sure how I answered them. I remember that Prep had been trying to imitate George Bush all summer and that night she finally nailed it and I had to tell her to can it because it wasn't the right night to pull out her comedy routine.

I remember that I drank about a million Cosmopolitans that week - a good, strong Cosmo reminds me of that week, even today. I remember how empty the freeway was that afternoon going home. I remember how crowded the Red Cross was that afternoon - the line was so long that they said to come back another day to give blood. I remember how odd it was to not have any commercial airplanes flying but how comforting it was to hear the fighter planes circling the perimeter. I remember going to the local firestation with Prep and BrownBear and signing the big banner we sent to New York.

I remember all of this, because today, as I talked to my fifth graders, I realized that they don't really have their own conscious memories of this day. What they "remember" is a lot like the Kennedy assassination to them. It is what they have seen on the History Channel. It isn't raw and painful to them. It isn't being unable to find a loved one, only to realize he was at home the whole time. It isn't outrage over being attacked on your country's own soil and having to watch helplessly as your own friends and neighbors leap to their deaths or watch firefighters take the remains of their own out of the rubble. It isn't the sorrow of watching a mother tell the Pope that her son was murdered that day and there wasn't anything left of him to bury. It isn't the courage of those workers who labored day after day, scouring the debris of those towers, hoping to find remains for parents and husbands and wives and children to bury. It isn't the fortitude of those left behind to re-open places like Cantor Fitzgerald and those other companies decimated that day. Our students don't have those memories - they only have us. And like so many other things we have to provide our students with, we have to provide them with our memories of this day, so that they won't forget it.

Just Another Manic Monday

Every month, schools are required to have a fire drill. If you pay close attention, you can tell it is coming, because principals, guidance counselors, secretaries and janitors all have roles to play and assume their positions before the alarm goes off.

Today, right after we returned from specials and had let our kids go to their first classes, the fire alarm sounded. I was a bit puzzled because I thought the administration would at least wait until our kids were safely in their classes before pulling the alarm. It's never a good idea to pull the alarm with kids wandering around - seriously.

Silly me. When I got outside with my class, my teaching partner had two different groups - my own homeroom and her homeroom. She was trying to pawn off a class to me, but, as I pointed out to her, I already had a group. Kind of like a Chinese firedrill. I kind of knew something was up when I looked over at the front door and spied the Principal and Assistant Principal.

Apparently they were kind of in the dark, too. They hadn't pulled the alarm - one of the ladies in the kitchen burned some butter and it caused the smoke alarm to go off. Once that happens, it's all automatic.

The funny thing is that firemen were in the building teaching fire safety.

What a Week!!

Isn't that my theme every week? But this was/continues to be the week from hell. Just a few more hours, however, and it will mercifully end.

No blog entries from me this week and I actually thought that Angie had written this post about me. Thank goodness, she was writing about herself.

Let me just list what happened this week in addition to teaching my 85 darlings:

• Class on Monday night (you remember - I'm learning to mentor poor little new school teachers. God help us all.
• Open House on Tuesday night for our school (let's make nice with all the 5th grade parents)
• Wednesday night I stayed home so LawyerBoy could make a late night of it (I made dinner; doesn't that count, too?)
• Thursday night I had to go to BrownBear's Back to School Night: it was more of a Chinese fire drill than anything I've been to in a long time. Next year, people, consider serving cocktails.
• Today, I had to go to BrownBear's first conference of the year, first thing this morning, meaning I had to figure out something to do with my homeroom first thing this morning. Thank goodness for my teaching partner because she took them and got them to their specials while LB and I spoke in glowing terms about the baby of the family. Of course, when I got back to school, I was running in circles. You know what happens when your day doesn't start smoothly and you just run? My day. Left my car keys with LB. Had locked my phone and purse in my own car at school. You get the picture.
• Tonight. Tonight is the first homegame for Prep. OMG. Picnic. Pep Rally. First football game. After game dinner. I can't wait to see Prep cheer but I am weary. That nap I caught between picking up BrownBear and now had better last a good, long time.

And people, the best thing I heard today is that John McCain is now courting the Eskimo vote.

Meet and Greet 2008

Could this be the year? Let these be my examples. You make the call.

First, I am teaching one of my former preschoolers. I know. It's hard to believe that teachergirl was ever in a position to teach pre-school, but one of my education professors told me to always try to stay in teaching, no matter what. It keeps you sharp. So while I was home with the girls, I tried various teaching jobs; I was able to teach English and Math at the local Institute of Technology (NO, not that one) and also at the pre-school that Prep and BrownBear attended. One year, I taught the most adorable class of three year olds I have ever seen. Taught might not be the most appropriate word, but I was with them for a year. I even taught Lewis Grizzard's wife's child that year. (Not Lewis Grizzard's child because my boy Lewis didn't have any children and for the life of me, I can't figure out why, because he was as wild as any one man ever was. But I digress.) One of those adorable three year olds is now one of my adorable fifth graders. Prep babysits for his family. He and his mama and daddy wanted me. Life is good. She is a PTA mom. (Not one of those PTA moms. One of those.) One year, she organized Christmas carolling in the neighborhood and brought the school children to teachergirl's house. Adorable. (I'll bet you didn't know I had this side to me.)

Second, this was the first year I have posted a wish list. I have seen the other teachers do it in the past; you know, you put things you wish you had for your class but you don't have the whatever to get: I've seen people put all kinds of things on their wish lists. So, I wished for extra notebook paper, extra Kleenex, someone to fix my barstool, a heavy duty pencil sharpener and some umbrellas. I put sticky notes out for people to take if they wished. (It's a wish list and it works both ways - I wish and they get to grant wishes if they wish to do so.)

People: in the first wave of parents and students to come through, all my wishes were taken. So, I did what any self respecting teacher would do in case more parents came. I made more. And they got taken, too.

Third, I had 16 of my 18 students come to Meet and Greet. Can you fathom that? It was amazing. And I had a boatload of old students come back for a hug. I could feel the love.

Now, you tell me. Is this the year or not?

Plans A Plenty

After reading Angie's Thursday Thirteen and realizing that my summer vacation is coming to a screeching halt, I have begun to think about what I need to do to get ready for school.

I am all Language Arts and Math this year. One section of Math and the rest Language Arts. In one way, this is my dream job. Writing, grammar, spelling and, of course, all things math. We are going to departmentalize and I am going to see all the 5th graders every day. How exciting!! How middle school!! (Have I mentioned how much I miss middle school? I love my school, but I love the excitement of middle school - I admit it; even the hormones and the drama. The departmentalization is a nod to me missing middle school. But it is also a huge step in getting these babies ready for that gigantic step of going to middle school in another year. None of them are ready for all the changes that occur - by rotating them around in 5th grade, we thought that we would be giving them a little preparation for one of the many huge changes that are awaiting them in middle school.)

Now, what do I need to do? Plenty. But I am in a better place this year than I was last year. Two subjects instead of six. I have to plan but I just can't get myself there yet. I really have to get Prep ready to take her driving test next Friday. She is starting to get nervous, so I am going to make her drive everywhere for the next week. EVERYWHERE. (Consider that fair warning.) And, of course, my vacation ends right as we celebrate PrepGirl's and PrincipalGirl's birthdays. (They share a birthday. And believe me, you better celebrate both of them.) So, just as I begin the freak out of going back to school, I have a house full of company.

So, my plan is to just enjoy - the stress level will be what it will be later.

Teachergirl and BrownBear for Hire

BrownBear and PrepGirl spent last week in New Orleans working with their youth group to help with the clean up. BrownBear helped paint a school and came back so fired up, she offered to help me paint my own classroom this week.

For those of you who don't know, I teach in a portable. A trailer. When I was first assigned to this trailer, I was apprehensive. I am in front of the school with two other fifth grade trailers.

Let me tell you that this trailer assignment is a thing of beauty. I am virtually left alone by administration. My Assistant Principal does not like to get her hair messed up and if it looks windy, misty, sunny, warm, or whatever, she won't come out. Delicious, right? I can come and go as I please. My key works 24/7. Every other teacher inside the building has to work the hours that the building is open. So, if I need to do something after hours which requires my room, I am set.

This week, BrownBear and I decided to paint my room. My room was originally the nastiest institutional green you can imagine. It was chipped, it had marks on the wall and it was depressing. I could not function in this environment for one more year. So, my little painter girl offered to help paint and I could not refuse her offer.

In a few short hours, we transformed my hideous little trailer into a thing of beauty. Now granted, I just painted like hell. There is a little paint on the baseboards and a little paint on the floor and a few marks on the ceiling. This is driving BrownBear crazy. She is patient, careful and (I think) a little OCD. She wants to go back and fix our mistakes.

I'm just so happy with how it looks now, I can hardly see our mistakes. When I get posters and bulletin boards up, no one will be able to see our indiscretions. And I'm thinking that BrownBear and I could hire ourselves out for the next couple of days, renovating portables.

SPRING BREAK

I wish I could say that I had magnificent plans for this week (Antigua, Disney World, New York City) but I will settle for Starbucks, the book store and a good massage without having to grade, plan or think about the geniuses (thank you, Cupcake) for ten whole days. That may be break enough. I only have to get to May 23, people, and I will let this group go. Can I get an amen?

And next year, for some of you who aren't following, including you, LawyerBoy, I will only be responsible for one class of Math and four classes of Language Arts - departmentalization. Our principal agreed this week to let us give it a go. So, the other three teachers are going to split up the rest of the subjects and we will send the children around to get a taste of middle school. They don't believe us when we talk about how difficult it really is - so we have decided to ratch it up a notch. All I can say is buckle up, fourth graders. We're getting ready for you.

Fabulous Friday, Also Known as Pi Day

I bet you thought that I hadn't posted because birthday debauchery had kept me from my computer. Nothing of the sort; I have moved my computer from the ever so convenient spot in the den, to the none so convenient spot of computer/craft/guest room.

My birthday weekend was so fantastic that I am planning on a repeat; Spring Break started for the princesses today, so they are off tomorrow on a fun-filled week at the beach with their aunt and grandfather. I am left here to labor and whine. (And whine and whine and whine.)

Today was Pi Day; for all you not so geeky math teachers, it was 3-14 (also Albert Einstein's birthday: how freaky is that?) so we had pie for math today. But not until I had worked this process through for an entire week. Circles, circumference, diameter, radius, how to calculate pi: by golly, the whole nine yards. My plans for this week were the best I have written this year. (FYI: My plans for next week - not so good). And today, we did circle graphs and percents to show pie preferences and we ate the hell out of some pies. I had 12 pies (okay, 11 pies and 1 cookie cake) in math today and we had a ball. Okay, I was sick just cutting them up, but my kids kept on eating. I had to stop one kid who had turned green.

Do you know what you get after you let kids eat pie for breakfast? Rowdy kids for lunch. So, after lunch, I played "Let's Make a Deal," better known as "The Quiet Game." For prizes. And, I actually had eight kids who won.

I also lost one of my geniuses today. He told me he was going to the bathroom, but didn't come back with the other kid he had gone with. I couldn't find him. I finally had to call the office. Apparently, he had taken it upon himself to go to the library, but, shhhhhh, don't tell Mrs. Teachergirl. I was so damned mad and scared at the same time, I turned his card to red (that's the worst thing that can happen to you) and wrote one hell of a note home. Nothing personal, little man, but don't disappear on me. I am pretty laid back, but if someone had stolen you, there would have been a huge problem. And that's what I told him. He was pretty mad about the note home, but by the quiet game, I think he understood where I was coming from. This is also the same genius who wouldn't get started on the writing test a few weeks ago. A little spoiled is what I think.

Spring Break can't come soon enough for me.

Just Another Day in Paradise

I taught like I was a crazy woman today. Writing, math, reading...social studies where I was observed by a dear soul who wants to be a full time teacher... and I even got individualized attention for the kids who need it.

Bob Marley came today with his hair strung up like it was in a mohawk. I swear. I can't make this stuff up, people.

Came home and helped with 6th grade math and science. Tenth grade work is under control. But I did listen to all the music practice going on and watched some gymnastics here in the living room. Tossed in a little more laundry before the state tells me that won't be allowed anymore and am getting ready to run the dishwasher (for the same reason). It's only Monday and my weekend is already booked - it is homecoming Friday and Prep is cheering; I'm singing at a funeral Saturday and we have to find something for all these girls to wear to their great-grandfather's 100th birthday. Oh yeah, y'all didn't know about this, now did you? Granddad is hitting triple digits soon, and we're taking this show all the way to Missouri. All of my inlaws are going to be present. I'm just happy I'm not the star of this show. I don't think people will know if I'm there or not (wrong: this is a command performance. I can't tell you how many times I've been asked if we've purchased airline tickets), and, to be honest, I wouldn't miss this for many, many reasons. The best one of all: the nine minute power point presentation with 96 pictures of Granddad's life. My only question was why aren't there 100 pictures?

First Thursday in October

Titles getting lame? About as lame as I feel.





Got some batteries for the camera. Too bad they aren't in the camera yet.





One more day of testing and then we get back to the education of America's youth. Would you believe that I've been in my pajamas since I got home from school? I picked up my cheerleader after the away game in them. (All right, all right. It was dark, people.) I need a weekend.

The First Tuesday in October

• My mantel couldn't be cuter if it tried. No, there are no body parts coming out of it, but it is adorable, nonetheless. If my digital camera had some batteries, I'd show you.
• Please stop complaining about your rainy days and tropical storms. We would pay for some rain to fall out of the sky. We are sitting on a total outdoor water ban. I'm waiting for the indoor water ban to go into effect.
• I am tired of school. I think it has to do with this stupid testing. I'm not doing anything except keeping kids awake and I'm as bored as they are.
• The spelling part of the test was today. It was all I could do not to hit them in the backs of their heads as they didn't mark the incorrectly spelled words. I mean does larjer look right to you?
• It's only Tuesday. I'm making beef stew on Saturday - Tyler Florence or the Barefoot Contessa - they both look pretty good to me.

More Griping and Moaning, Via E-Mail

I couldn't be a bigger fan of the electronic mail; it lets us be in touch in an instant. However, there comes a time when parents should have those privileges revoked. Today, I encountered such an instance.

I have a student who is floundering. She barely passed the big state test in reading last year. Her parents are divorced. Dad is an assistant principal in the district and he has access to e-mail. He fired one off this morning, basically making me feel like I am some kind of incompotent nitwit without one iota of common or professional sense.

He let me know, in no uncertain terms, that his daughter could read on a much higher level than I had said. Her problem, in his esteemed estimation, was one of motivation. He told me that my assessment tools were unscientific and fraudulent and he had written his Master's thesis to prove it. Now, I am not the biggest fan of AR in the entire world, but I am not stupid enough to tell a parent, any parent, that his child was only assessed using one tool. I have made certain that I backed up the STAR test with other assessments - and scientific or not, my STAR test results are often backed up by other tests.

The fifth grade counts AR as one test grade for the entire nine weeks. He is bent out of shape over that. Funny, he didn't have anything to say about it a month ago during Back to School Night. A month ago, he didn't have a problem with it. Now that we're half way through the nine weeks, his precious has only gotten 0.9 AR points. Fifth graders are supposed to have 20 for an A. If his precious already had 17 points, his panties wouldn't be in a knot.

He insisted that we not grade for AR. The county doesn't support it. The data is unscientific. Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah. State standards require fifth graders to read 1,000,000 words this year. AR tracks those words. We assign grades to those words. It is called accountability.

This is his problem. He is the father of two children, both of them identified for our intervention program. This is troubling for him, as it makes him look bad. He doesn't care one whit about anything other than how this will make him look. Oh, yeah. And getting back at his ex-wife. That is playing in here somehow. He let me know that he didn't know what kind of standards his ex-wife held his children to, but when they were with him, he expected quite a bit from them.

Whatever.

I e-mailed him my best sweet Southern girl. And I let him have it. I wasn't in Nancy Grace's sorority for nothing.

Learning How to Write

Got a visit from more county people this week. They invaded my school space, talking about the wonders of Writer's Workshop. Don't get me wrong; I've heard good things about Writer's Workshop for a long time. Shoot, I think I participated in Writer's Workshop as a kid.

Let me tell you what bothers me about this visit. Our principal is the one who initiated this visit. Our state now requires the fifth grade to take the Writing Assessment, but passing it isn't necessary to go on to sixth grade. It would be one thing if we weren't involved in writing at all, but that isn't the case. We have spent tons of money working with a guy who has been to our school who has taught our kids how to write. We have worked with him and his ideas for years now, and his methods have been pretty successful. He doesn't align to Writer's Workshop very well, at all, though. But our principal is the one who initiated this writing method. I would be all for kicking him to the side of the road if he and his methods didn't work. We were completely stressed out after our county visit. They actually want us to completely dismantle what we are doing so we can do something else. Five weeks after we have already started school.

And now, I come to the irony. BrownBear came home from school that VERY afternoon and said her English teacher had asked where she had gone to elementary school. BrownBear told her and her English teacher told her that her first essay was excellent and to tell her old teachers that they had done a wonderful job with their writing program. Hello!!?? Remember where BrownBear went to elementary school? Guess where she learned how to write and which program she learned under? The very program our principal wants to ditch.

Who Is a Patriot?

Apparently, I have a mini United Nations in my classroom. While we were discussing 9/11 (to clear up some misconceptions), my students were talking about their memories of the day. I was surprised at how much they did remember, seeing as how they were only four at the time. However, what surprised me the most is where a lot of these kids were on that day. One in India, one in Rumania, one in Russia, one in Columbia, one in Mexico and one in England.

We talked a lot about being a patriot, today. What exactly did it mean and why was today Patriot Day? We've been studying the Constitution and the Framers were patriots, but we don't honor them, today. They started connecting the dots - a patriot is a person who loves, honors and defends his/her country. You don't have to be president to be a patriot; you can be a fireman, a policeman, a guy going to work, a kid going to school. As long as you love your country and are willing to honor it with your actions, you are a patriot. I think we came away with a lot today.

And, of course, Mrs. Teachergirl had a story to tell. The 'where were you' on September 11th story. Just like my grandmother's story when FDR died, and my mother's story when JFK died. My brother-in-law should have been in the first tower, but he was home. My sister could see the Pentagon burning from her school. The things I remember are how empty the roads were when I finally went home from school. And how long the line was when I stopped at the Red Cross to donate blood. And how my friend couldn't get home from Paris for about an additional week. And how another friend was flying a jet for Delta and was told to land at the first available airport by order of the President of the United States. And how empty the skies were. Except for the fighter planes. And my greatest act of faith that week was putting PrepGirl and BrownBear on the school bus the morning after. Because we are Americans. But we are also patriots.