snapshots

There was such excitement at Barton around the election results. It seemed like everyone I came in contact with was in great spirits this morning. Rather than saying "hello," most of my kids' greetings were informing me about Barack's win. I love that kids were so involved with the election. I gave my students a morning writing assignment asking their opinions about changes that might occur with Barack being the new president. I was pleased to hear responses such as, 'the gas prices might go down,' and 'taxes would be lower.'

I bought a new car yesterday. My old car was a huge headache. I didn't realize how much it was affecting everything else in my life. There is so much more in the classroom than students and a teacher. Your entire world comes with you. Today was rough, but I could relax in the fact that I would be able to walk out the door and my car would start.

Today, I realized that controlling my temper is much more difficult than just exploding whenever kids are getting way out of hand. I was really pushing myself to submerge my anger , yelling, and sarcasm--trying instead to stay calm and direct with the kids. I don't know where all that anger goes though. That kind of worries me.

We're working on small moment personal narratives in writing. The kids are getting really tired of it, but most of them are working hard to get through it. One of the early steps in our writing process is to write a time line of the events that took place in a very small block of time. I have a lot of kids who still don't understand how to zoom in from a best-day-ever stories to a best -moment-of-the-best-day story--a seed story. I was conferring with a kid who made a time line of like half a day. I always tell the kids that a seed story is about 5-10 minutes long--20 at most. I asked him if the events took place over 5-10 minutes. He said yes. I didn't argue. I had him to get the timer, set it for 5 minutes, and sent him to his desk. I told him to press the start button when he sat down and watch the timer until it stopped. I said that I wanted him to feel five minutes. He sat; he waited; he felt 5 minutes. When he came back I asked again, did the events on your time line last 5 minutes? No, it was a lot more than 5 minutes. He even remembered that somewhere between the first and last events he went outside and was surprised at how dark the sky was. We've been at this for 10 weeks to no avail. In 5 minutes, he got it. Less is more.

this may be a violation--blogging twice in one day--but i've got something completely different to express now.

i'm missing utep like crazy, and having a pretty rough time all around. so i start browsing blogs and reading first-year-teacher thoughts, and whatnot. i stumble upon pictures on the cohort iv homepage from my first week in my classroom. i'm standing on a chair "contemplating wall colors," as the caption states. just looking around the little bit of space visible in the photo, the randomness going on in the background--it's a completely different story now. i'm working in a real classroom that--on some level--is organized and functional. i remember wondering that first week of pd if it would never feel like "home," like a place that i would be comfortable teaching in. nearly 10 weeks later, it is. i feel so comfortable being in my classroom. it's finally starting to feel like mine. shades up, lights off, soft music, and it has a perfectly calming ambiance. outside of my broken car, i don't have a whole lot of spaces that feel that way. it's exactly the kind of stability and comfort i need right now.

free your mind

so, i got a new bookcase today. i needed to clear all my junk off the heater for safety reasons, and i bothered folks until i got one. it did a lot to open up the room. my guided reading table is against the windows. with all the junk gone, i can finally feel the sun on my back. it's nice. the space is more uncluttered, which really freed up my mind about school worries some. of course in that space, other things moved in, but that's the nature of the beast.

by the way, i love autumn. not only is it a beautiful season, but you can get pumpkin flavored coffee.

Last week one of my kids brought a knife to school and pulled it out during P.E. Another of my students approached him and took it. The school recommended that the boy who brought the knife be sent to Hartgrove. Week 8 and one of mine is already at Hartgrove. I'm not prepared to look into the darkness like this. It's too much.

I think I chose the wrong profession.

Debussy + Puzzles = Sanity

Yeah, so I haven't blogged in a while. Since my last entry, I've become a real teacher in the real world with real students--i.e. reality came crashing down around my head. True colors abound. For a moment there I lost my purpose, my passion, my burning desire to do this every day for the next...166 days. But all that's back now. I got a puzzle. That's my new thing--puzzles. I bought a couple for the kids and they loved the 100-piece, but the 500-piece was more than daunting for even my puzzle-savviest students. I decided to lay the puzzle out and start it myself to give them a head start and maybe a bit more confidence. In the process, I realized how much I love puzzles. It's not news really, just a revival of a childhood hobby. I started after school on Wednesday. I actually stayed at school just to work on the puzzle. Thursday morning I informed the kids that they could no longer go to the puzzle table whenever they wanted. I told them that I am now invested in the puzzle and they can only work on it with permission. (Believe it or not, that totally worked.) That afternoon, I set a time limit for myself--which I passed by like half an hour--to stay and work on the puzzle. Friday was one of those days from hell and all I could think of was stopping to get a puzzle on the way home. I considered bringing the 500-piece from school, but I realized how important it is for me to be able to turn on Debussy at the end of a long day and sit down to the ocean blues of my jigsaw puzzle. I need that unwind time because I know that when I get home after my God-knows-how-long commute, I have to get straight to work to get to bed at a decent hour. So after school, I stick around a while and work on my puzzle.

Gratitude

I go to a small, family church. I've been a member from birth, and I've known many of the parishioners my entire life. Today, my Pastor surprised me with a celebration in honor of my recent graduation. My family knew about it and invited special guests and everything. All week I had no idea. It was wonderful and humbling.

During my 2 minutes of remarks, I couldn't help but think of my students. The church was celebrating me and my degree, but none of that matters without my students. All of it is for them.

After thanking everyone, I gave an update on my first week of teaching, andI couldn't help but exclaim, "I'm a teacher--a real teacher!" I've been blessed to live my dreams--literally. I come from a loving environment. My family, my church, and other loved ones have spent my lifetime sowing good seeds into my life, nurturing my spirit and mind. They have strengthened me for the work ahead. My purpose now is to sow into the lives of my kids--pay it forward. I want to do everything within my power to make their dreams as much a reality as my own. Not to say that my kids don't come from loving and empowering environments, but I've been given far too much not to do my part to strengthen the next generation.

I love waking up in the morning. I get to go to Barton and spend the day with the best kids on the south side of Chicago. My fellow teachers are the most amazing people. I can barely keep track of time after school. The hours tick away as I move from room to room, talking with friends about the day, about our kids, about life. Some days it doesn't seem real. It doesn't seem like this is actually happening to me. There is no way I deserve any of it. I'm only half the person I know I should be, but here I am, living the life I want.