Ah, Kindergartners

I've been back in school for 3 days, and the cuteness is pretty darned cute. A quote from yesterday: "Ms. Grindrod, I'm going to the bathroom. I have to go poop, so I might be gone for a while, just in case you're wondering." I guess she was afraid I'd suspect her of playing in the bathroom, which is one of my pet peeves.

Same child returned from lunch today with a speck-sized hangnail and quickly escalated to a wail of "It's bleeeeeding! I need a baaaaaand-aid!" "Yes, I can see that it's gushing blood," I replied. "We may have to call the custodian to mop up." My sarcasm was lost on her, as she agreed with me. I was to drop everything and get a band-aid -- which I did.

On the way to the cafeteria for lunch, another child earnestly suggested that everyone should have to genuflect before eating their lunch. (She didn't actually say "genuflect"; she just gave a demonstration.) I tactfully told her that I didn't think a requirement like that would go over to well in [public] school.

Later on she couldn't find her library book and was becoming quite upset. When we finally found it, she told me "I think the Lord helped us find it!" (Kind of reminds me of my mom. She'd say, "Which of you spilled cocoa on the counter and didn't wipe it up?" We'd all brush her off: "I don't know. It wasn't me …" and exasperated, she'd snap "I suppose the dear Lord did it!")

Ah, it's good to be back!

Makin' a List and Checkin' It Twice.

Out at recess this morning with all of the Kinders and First Graders. My colleague came over to inform me that she had just called the office to report some inappropriate graffiti on the climbing structure. "Guess what it says," she said. "Um, f*ck something?" was my guess. (We are right down the street from the high school, after all, and often find interesting, um er, artifacts on our playground.) "No, worse!" she said. "It says Santa doesn't exist."

The bastards! They're targeting an elementary school population … does that qualify as a hate crime?

More from the mouths of kindergartners …

As a 23-year veteran kindergarten teacher I have developed the skill of waiting … waiting for the stragglers to come to the rug, sit criss-cross applesauce (kindergarten language for sit down and shut up,) clean up the playdough, get in line, etc. I have a whole repertoire of waiting songs. So on Friday the entire class but one is in line to go to art class. The one is putting on his shoes. It is taking a long, long time. I start singing this song (you know, so the others don't get restless and start some insurgent activity) that has movements for the kids to copy. We're singing, and gosh, the kid is taking a long time, and I'm running out of ideas for hand motions, so I start to do this bastardized rock-and-roll thingy, moving my fists up and down, and this little girl pipes up from the back of the line: "Teacher! Are you squeezing a cow's boobs?"

INDOCTRINATION!!!

I finally saw President Obama's speech to the nation's schoolchildren in its entirety. It was bad enough that children were being forced to listen to subversive messages like, "Obey your parents and teachers" and "Do your homework." But when he said, "Wash your hands so you don't get sick," well, I felt downright unclean.

(It was shown at our first all school assembly of the school year. One youngster was escorted out in tears. When the principal questioned her about why she was crying she said, "I'm - I'm just so happy he's president, it makes me cry.")

Kindergartners -- Can't Live With 'Em, Can't Live Without 'Em

Day 5 of the new school year. I finished work, went home for a little while and then it was back to school for the PTO meeting. (I am a regular attender, along with my knitting.) Leaving the meeting to go home and walk the dog, my principal stopped me in the hall to inform me that one of my students had smuggled his scissors onto the school bus in his backpack after school, and given himself -- and a friend -- haircuts! The other child's parent was at the PTO meeting. Fortunately she was laughing about it. Fortunately my principal was laughing about it too. I'm wondering, is it enough of a logical consequence to have to go around with funky hair until it grows out? I'll say one thing for certain about my job -- it is never boring.

Tales From the Halls of Learning, part 3

Last week I was in my classroom while my students were coming in from lunch. It's a little bit of a chaotic time, with some kids in the room getting ready for rest time, while the pokey ones (same ones every day) are still at their lockers, usually up to no good. Suddenly there is a bloodcurdling scream followed by loud wailing. I am alarmed. I run out into the hallway and see one of my girls -- I'll call her Eugenia -- sitting on the floor, crying. I ask her what happened. She says, "Matilda* pushed me really hard!" I look at Matilda. She's about 6 feet away, putting her coat in her locker in a seemingly innocent way. I beckon her over and she comes, a little reluctantly. I ask, "Did you push Eugenia down?" Almost imperceptibly, she nods. I ask, "Why did you push her?" Matilda blurts out, "Well she was in my face going, 'MEOW MEOW MEOW' and she wouldn't stop!!"

Sigh. *hits head against wall* Kindergarten.

*not her real name

Kindergarten Conversations

Today we were lining up in the hallway to walk to lunch. One of my little boys is standing with his hands in his pockets and says, "I'm juggling in my pockets." I wasn't sure I heard him correctly, so I said, "Did you just say you were juggling in your pockets?" (I'm already cracking up.) He says, "Yup. I have invisible balls." A couple of seconds later he says, "They don't hurt though."

Whew, that's a relief!

Overheard Today at the Coloring Table

1st child: You have a crush on Barack Obama.

2nd child (indignantly): I do not want to crush Barack Obama!

3rd child: That's not very nice!

1st child (patiently): No, a crush means you like somebody ...

Kindergartners never cease to amaze me.

Another Day, Another Dollar

I got barfed on at work today. You?

Tales From the Halls of Learning, pt. 2

Today, about 1/2 hour before school gets dismissed, I got a phone call from the secretary asking that I send a student to the office because her mom was there to pick her up. I hustled to gather a few things together that I thought she might need, because we're coming up on a 4 day weekend (state teachers' convention,) gave her a hug, and sent her on her way.

5 minutes later she was back. "My mom says to say good-bye because I'm not coming back. I'm going to a new school." Then she buried her head against me and started to sob.

I had heard from our interpreter that they might be moving, but as of yesterday they didn't know when. Unfortunately, because my school is very high poverty (>70%) this is not a unique situation. Part of me is angry with her mom. Why don't parents realize how hard it is on their children to just pull up stakes and leave? Our psychologist just told me that, on average, students lose 6 months of learning every time they move to a new school.

The fact that children grieve when they leave to go to a new school is very much unrecognized within school communities. I can't tell you the number of times that a student of mine has moved and I get a call from the new teacher saying, "What works to control this child? S/he refuses to learn and has already been sent to the principal's office x number of times!" or "We're starting an evaluation on this child and would like your input."

It stands to reason that the children who move most often are the children living in unstable housing situations and -- no surprises -- tend to have more behavior (and often academic) issues. They tend to express their grief at leaving their friends, their familiar teachers, by acting out. It shouldn't take a fruit fly scientist to figure that out!

In the case of my student today, her mom has the added stress of being a single parent because her husband was deported to Honduras last spring. I can't really stay angry with her, but I wish we had gotten a day to say a proper good-bye. The rest of my class was amazing. I told them that she was leaving, and they surrounded her in a great big hug. But man, it breaks my heart.

My school is home to an excellent program for homeless children and their families. Sometimes the teacher in charge of that program -- Jani Koester, a devoted advocate for kids so just give her a personal round of applause right now where you are sitting -- sometimes she pulls strings and arranges transportation for children to continue coming to our school even when they have found housing in a different attendance area. Once in a conversation with a neighbor -- usually a liberal guy, but with a few blind spots -- he started going on about how the district could save money by cutting out the excess transportation for the homeless students. I had to set him straight: For some kids, school is the most stable thing in their lives and keeping them in one place is a good investment.

Anyway, so ends my work week. Tomorrow I'll be in my classroom doing some much needed cleaning and organizing. Convention offerings don't look particularly compelling this year, so I don't think I'll go. (It's right here in town, so if I change my mind ...)

Tales From the Halls of Learning

At lunch in the teachers' lounge today, the music teacher shared this story: A fifth grade girl stopped by her room this morning. She was in some distress because she couldn't find her violin and was supposed to be going to Strings class. She had left it in the auditorium and it was no longer there. The music teacher commiserated with her and offered reassurance that she would surely find it. Still, the girl hung around and seemed to want to talk further. She said, "Can I tell you something else?" The teacher said, "Sure." The girl said, "Well ... I brought my pet hamster to school in the violin case and I'm a little worried about it."

I've said it before and I'll say it again, being a teacher is many things, but one thing it is not is boring.

Update: I don't know if the violin was found, but the general consensus around the school office was that the girl frequently makes up stories. I hope, for the hamster's sake, that is the case.

Field Trip

I'm taking my kindergartners on their first field trip tomorrow. We're going to "The School Forest", a lovely patch of oak savannah about 25 miles out of town that our district has owned for 50 years. Before sending them home today, we had a talk about it, because I wanted to make sure that they all come dressed appropriately, etc. Here is how our conversation went:

"Remember, we're going on our field trip tomorrow."

"Yay! We're going to the pumpkin patch!"
"The pumpkin patch! Yay!"

"No, we're not going to the pumpkin patch. We're going to a forest. When you come to school tomorrow we're going to get on a bus --"

"I no ride the bus!!"

"Yes, all of us get to ride the bus tomorrow. We're going to ride for a little while and then we won't be in the city anymore. We'll be in the country, in a place with lots of trees ..."

"Will we ever come back to America again?"

"We're not leaving America! We'll be back at school in time to eat lunch. And I want everybody to bring a sweatshirt--"

"And sweat pants."

"You don't need sweat pants, just plain old pants. It might be kind of chilly, so bring a sweatshirt--"

"And sweat pants."

"--and good shoes for walking, like sneakers."

"Are these sneakers?"

At this juncture I make a show of putting on my glasses and quickly "examine" everyone's shoes.

"Yup. Everyone just wear the shoes you're wearing right now."

Sometimes teaching kindergarten is like being in a Marx Brothers movie:
"2 hard-boiled eggs."
Honk!
"Make that 3 hard-boiled eggs."

But I love it.

This One's for Quaker Dave ...

... and all the other teachers who are newly back to school. Chrissy says it best!



(This song never fails to give me goosebumps.)

Strangely Quiet

If you think I've been strangely quiet recently, have no fear. I've been getting ready for school. My classroom has 5 closets, loosely organized by subject areas (math closet, language arts closet, toys & games closet, dress up clothes ....) For the last 2 years -- since I've been in this classroom -- I've basically been throwing things into them willy-nilly, plus I have boxes of "teaching materials" (what other people refer to as "crap") that I've hauled around since the beginning of time. At the end of each school year I have to put everything away, so back in June I basically stuffed the closets full and slammed the doors before anything could ooze back out. Out of sight, out of mind ... until August.

Last week and this I decided to clear out and organize, one closet at a time. I've done 3 of the 5 closets, I've weeded my personal book collection of all the old ugly falling apart books and books that are just not appropriate for kindergarten (Valley of the Dolls had to go), and I feel so much lighter!

I gave an extensive collection of storybooks-on-tape away to the school book room, so that everyone can use them. And I'm considering putting away all the dress-up clothes, except for shoes, aprons, and purses -- figuring that then the kids will have to use their imaginations a little more. (Besides I got so tired of everyone fighting over the pink tutu.)

I still have to cover my bulletin boards and put up a few subversive posters. I have to move in the contraband mini-fridge. I keep wondering if anyone will notice if I take down the American flag and hide it.

Then I just have to plan for the first day on Tuesday, and we'll be up and running.

Blogging may be slim.

Nice and a little strict ...

I had avoided reading this article in our local paper this week, because I figured something about it would probably piss me off. Education articles frequently do. But I was tipped off tonight that I should read it, and was surprised to see quotes from these two spokespeople for responsible classroom placements:

Two students at Emerson Elementary on Madison's East Side, fourth-grader Lilly Jenssen and her brother, Owen, a first-grader, said they're hoping to be assigned to teachers who are nice — although Owen allowed that "sometimes strict teachers teach you more things."

I'm so proud. Those are my former students! I had Lilly for kindergarten and first grade, and Owen for kindergarten. And yup, sometimes I had to use my strict teacher voice. But mostly I was nice.

The funny thing was, the tip-off came from Owen and Lilly's parents, whom I bumped into at Mr. Ether's gig tonight. They were out on a date, while our daughter was babysitting for Owen and Lilly. Sometimes this town seems so darned small!

Dog-tired

First day of kindergarten. I know that all of these kids are going to make mountains of progress between now and June, but in the beginning they are positively larval, literally wiggling around on the floor. I have 13 students, about half Spanish speaking (I'm not) but they seem functional in English. And interestingly enough, I have only one Caucasian child. That's a first.

I went kicking and screaming, but it's OK being back. My loyal fan base -- students from previous years -- make it easier.