Menu Monday. On Tuesday. Go Figure.

Before I can even share my menu I really need to get something off my chest.  Chubby Cheekers is a ham and a half.  Yesterday afternoon I spent time with some of my former students getting ready to graduate.  As all of us 'teachers' are sharing where we are in life I look down and Chubby Cheekers is crawling on the floor like a dog, panting.

A former collauege looks at me and says, "Do you have a dog?"

Uh, no.  No dog.  I have no idea what the child was doing.  Then all of a sudden, he flops to his belly and lets one rip.  Not a little baby toot, but a grown up fart.  Embarrassing. 

Lesson learned.  Don't take your 15 month old to a Sr. Reception.  Speaking of Seniors.  Here are some of my past fourth graders...

Whew!  I feel better.  Now here's my menu.  FYI, the Torres' are hitting up a restaurant 2 times this week!  I know, don't fall over. 

Monday-Burgers, Homemade Salsa, Brown Rice Chips, Oven Baked Pickles
Tuesday-Los Cabos for a birthday party
Wednesday-Hummus Crusted Chicken and Squash, Salad
Thursday-French Lentil Soup and Grilled Cheese
Friday-Parmesan Crusted Tilapia, Brown Rice, Grilled Veggies
Saturday-Little Miss' Dance Recital...out to dinner
Sunday-Mother's Day.  My husband better be serving me up something fabulous!

Dealing With Disappointment

Long, long ago in a land not so far away there lived a teacher, Mrs. Torres.  She lived for her students and loved them for she had none of her own.  She witness parents who taught her many good lessons.  Lessons that stuck around for years to come when she would have her own children.  This is one such lesson.

In the days of Mrs. Torres' teaching world, kids were offered incentives for extra reading.  Most often the children would have to reach monthly reading goals for six months, and as a reward they would be taken out on a special day of fun.  It was a wonderful program that motivated kids to go above and beyond normal expectations.

Then one day Johnny appeared.   Mrs. Torres explained to the entire class about the reading and the reward.  Everyone was excited.  Everyone was on board, and then Johnny raised his hand.

Uh, Mrs. Torres?

Yes.

I'm not going to do this reading stuff.

Why?  You can do this!  I will help you reach the goal as long as you put your best effort forth. (Johnny really struggled in reading)

It doesn't matter if I do it or not.  Last year, I didn't do it.

Honey, you do realize that if you don't do it, you'll miss out on the day of fun?

No I won't.  My mom didn't make me go to school on that day last year and we did our own fun stuff. I got to go to the zoo and Incredible Pizza.

Wow.  Mrs. Torres had no words.  His mom was setting him up for failure.  He had no desire to work above and beyond because no matter what, he was going to rewarded...for doing nothing.  Mrs. Torres learned a HUGE parenting lesson.  She pulled out her Parenting 101 Notes and wrote:

Tip #236:  Do not bail out your kids when they don't rise to the occasion.

Fast forward a few years and Mrs. Torres has her own kids.  Tip #236 has stuck with her.  Even in moments where her kids are crying and disappointed, she reminds herself that bailing them out is not helping them.  It's hurting.  

This lesson is so, so important.  Kids will do what you expect of them.  It may take a few tries to get it right, but they will rise to the occasion.  If they fail, it's okay.  Through failure comes teaching.  Through teaching comes learning.  Through learning comes growth. Growth. That's what we want for our kids, right?  

When we rush in and 'fix' the hurts and shortcomings of our kids they learn that they have no responsibility.  Mom (or Dad) will take care of it.  They stay stagnant.  

For the past few weeks I have watched an ugly scenario play out at one of the activities Little Miss and Chunky Monkey participate in on a weekly basis.  It's hard to watch, because I know the mom feels she has her child's best interest in mind, but the child is being set up for failure.  Here's how it happens...

The child decides that day if they want to be there.  If the child doesn't, the child makes it as difficult as possible for the teachers and other kids until the child's mom rushes in and takes them home.  

This happens every week.  It is a shame.  First off, the child has not had the opportunity to learn the discipline of following through.  That despite your feelings, you have committed to something and must stick with it until the end.  Something that may not seem so important at 4, but will impact the child severely as they age.

Secondly, the parent (unknowingly) is demonstrating a very selfish attitude.  The class is very full and has a waiting list up to 6 months.  1 out of 4 weeks the child wants to be there.  The other 3 weeks, it is a battle for the teachers to get them to stay, deal with the behavior, and the other kids have to wait while the child is being dealt with.  That spot on the roster could potentially be filled with another child who is expected to be there and fulfill the role that a child is meant to fulfill.  To learn and grow and listen and obey.

I know this sounds really harsh, but I honestly look at this mother with such empathy.  She has a long road ahead of her.  I have seen the other end of the spectrum.  The student I spoke about in the story of Mrs. Torres' class, it was me as the teacher. Are you shocked ;) ?  

It is a true story.  What breaks my heart is Johnny (not the real name) is now in high school.  He has been suspended multiple times from school.  He never was held accountable.  He was always bailed out.  Now that he is older, he has found himself in situations where his mom can't rush in to save him.  It breaks my heart.  He is a beautiful boy.  He has potential.  We all have potential.  It just has to be used.

So when I see situations play out where a child is bailed out of their own doings, it hurts.  It hurts to see the pain I know the parent and child will have in the future.  Our kids deserve more. They deserve to have standards.  They deserve to have high expectations.  It reminds me of the quote...

Shoot for the moon because at the very least you will land on a star.

So let's shoot for the moon with our kids. 

A Trip Down Memory Lane

It started raining.  Isn't that how it always begins?  You go to a movie or dive into a novel and the main character is sitting in a chair over a hot cup of somethin' and they start reminiscing.

Funny thing about that rain stuff.  I was sitting in my kitchen feeding Chubby Cheekers when I took a wee little glance outside.  I saw the rain and knew the cold front was coming through.  I did a bit of a shiver and decided to make myself a midday cup of joe.  Coffee in the afternoon is a very rare thing for me.  Generally, I enjoy my one cup of coffee on the way to school.  However, today was different.  I reached in the cabinet to grab a coffee mug, and I saw one that was given to me as a gift for Teacher Appreciation Week.

As I poured my coffee my mind started going back to my life as a teacher.  Students started flashing through my mind.  I smiled as I thought about the students who have become so successful as young adults.  I wondered about the students who I have lost touch with over the years.  And then I let it happen.  I let my mind start to think about those students.

Those students are the ones you want to take home.  You want to give them a fresh start.  You want to show them what real love is all about.  You want to show them there is so much more.  They can be more.  Do more.  Have more.

I think of the little girl who had so many unthinkables done to her that she would wet her pants every day.  Her body was so thin you could see her bones.  She would pull out her hair in chunks.  I can't tell you how many times I told her I loved her.  Hugged her. Told her she was special.  She moved halfway into her 5th grade year and I have never heard from her again.

I think of the boy who rivaled me in size.  He had so much anger inside him, it was not unusual for him to string out profanities.  To flip over a desk.  Chunk his backpack to the back of the room.  I told him everyday I loved him.  That he had a choice.  He could change.  He could be more.  Do more.  On the last day of school, he hugged me back for the first time.  He told me he loved me and said no one had ever told him he could be great.  He moved away that summer.  I haven't seen him since.

I think of another boy who woke himself every morning and got to school on time.  No one was ever home to help him get ready, or make him breakfast.  His home was so unkept and unclean that his clothes smelled of cat urine almost everyday.  He once walked to school in shorts and flip flops when it was 20 degrees outside.  He couldn't find anything else to wear.  He was also brilliant.  I told him everyday that he was loved.  I got him new clothes and stashed clean ones in the class so he wouldn't be embarrassed if he dressed himself in clothes his cats urinated on while on the floor.  This boy hugged me everyday with the kind of hug that knocks you over.  On the last day of school, he cried and so did I.  Over the summer DHS finally intervened and he went to live with his dad.  I haven't heard from him since.

It's stories like these that make my heart ache for kids.  I often forget that the kids sitting in Little Man's class may be experiencing the same things I told you about above.  It breaks my heart so much that I can't think about it too often.

I'm not sure why the rain brought my mind to such a place, but I am thankful I had the opportunity to tell these kids, not only that I loved them, but to show them real love.  It's a good reminder to me to teach my kids to show love to their classmates.  Even the kids they can't understand.  The school day could be the best part of another child's day.  The only part of the day where they feel loved and feel safe.  I hope my kids are the shining light for others.

I'm Gonna Find Out: A Lesson About the Tooth Fairy

Last Friday I was teaching a Coupon Class (with a great bunch of ladies) when some moms started talking about the tooth fairy.  It reminded me of this story from my last year of teaching. It's funny and mean and conniving and well deserved.  Enjoy.

My last year of teaching before staying home was a doozy.  My class was full of fun-loving stinkers.  Precious but ornery.  I loved teaching all seven years, but the last one was challenging to meet all the emotional/behavioral/educational needs of the students.  This has little to do with the story except the stinker of all stinkers is involved in this story.  I still can't believe I did this, but Stinker Stinker Pants had it coming...

8:40 am My Classroom

Mrs. Torres, Mrs. Torres (seeing I'm ignoring him because I'm helping someone else with questions from homework)  Mrs. Tooooooorrrrressss.

Sweet heart, hold on one minute.  You are interrupting.

But this is waaaaay more important.  I lost a tooth.

Go ahead and go down to the nurse and she will give you a tooth holder.

(Stinker Stinker Pants leaves to the nurse's office and returns a few minutes later).

Okay, Mrs. Torres.  Can I tell you now since you wouldn't listen to me earlier?

Yes, you may.  However, I will not listen when you are interrupting.  You have to wait patiently for your turn to speak.  We've talked about this.

I know, but it was an emergency!  Losing my tooth is an emergency. Anyway.  I'm going to find out if the Tooth Fairy is real or not.

(This part was my absolute favorite.  Stinker Stinker Pants was one of the cool kids who sometimes had issues with bullying.  The other kids were tuning in because it's pretty unusual for a 10 year old to still believe in the Tooth Fairy)

You are?  How are you going to do that?

I lost my tooth on the way to school this morning so my mom doesn't know about it.  I'm not going to tell anyone, except you.  Then if I wake up in the morning and there's money, I'll know the Tooth Fairy is real.

Wow, Stinker Stinker Pants.  That's a really good plan.  You'll have to let me know how that works out.

I will!

THE NEXT DAY...

Good morning, Stinker Stinker Pants, what did you find out about the Tooth Fairy?  Real or not?

Oh totally real!  I had five bucks under my pillow this morning.

Good to know!

END OF CONVERSATION...

I bet you're wondering how his mom found out.  Well, that's where I come in as Queen Stinker Pants.  I emailed his mom about his intricate plan.  I know, it's awful, but did I mention what a little stinker he was in class?  He had it coming.  I'm wondering when he'll figure out I pulled a fast one on him. I doubt in 7th grade, he still believes, but who knows?  He could have had another ornery teacher like me.

I would like to say that no matter how stinker-ish my students were, I loved them no less than my own children now.  Kids are kids and some have a few more battles than others. It's just fun to be able to play with them once in a while.

Teacher Appreciation Week

It's Teacher Appreciation Week.  I think teachers live for this week.  L-I-V-E.  Mainly because it's about 20 days out from the end of the year.  If you have never experienced the end of the year as a teacher in a classroom setting, consider yourself lucky.  Yes, Teacher Appreciation Week is strategically planned at the end of the year so teachers remember that it really is worth it.



All kidding aside, have you thanked your child's teacher?  You don't have to do it with gifts.  Kind words go a long way.  A kind word from your child goes an extra long way.  If you are searching for that perfect gift though, here are some suggestions from a long list of gifts that were my absolute favorites...

• A bouquet of small value gift cards...$5 to Hobby Lobby, Mardel, Apple Tree, QT, and Panera
• A basket full of my favorites...Post-It Notes,  Dr. Pepper, Jelly Belly's, Trident Gum, New Ball Point Pens, and a picture of me with the class
• A single rose from each child in the class.  When the kids brought me a rose, they also told me their favorite memory from the year.  I cried.  Tearing up now just thinking about it.
• A Brighton Key Chain
• Personalized Stationary
• Earrings...lots of earrings!
• A hanging basket of begonias

There were so many over the years, but I do have a stand out favorite.  One that made me cry as soon as it was opened. 

My very first year of teaching (those kids are graduating this year despite me), I had a little girl who was the outcast of the entire school.  The year prior to her being in my class, I would see her reading on the playground. Not playing.  Just reading.  It made me sad.

When I became her teacher in fourth grade, that reading she did every single day at recess made me hurt even more.  She didn't know how to read.  Her book was a cover.  A cover for her loneliness.  Awful.  Simply awful.  A child who couldn't read would take a book out to recess, hide in a corner, and pretend.  Once I found that out, it stopped immediately.  I started looking for the kids in the class who had tender hearts and starting pairing them up at recess.  At first it was awkward.  I even went out to play with them to be sure it was authentic.  Over time, a few of the kids began to ask her to play without prompting. 

I'm not sure if this was what made her decision to give me a gift or not, but she gave the best gift ever.  This little girl was extremely immature for her age.  She often brought toys to school that Kindergartners would bring. Most of the time those toys ended up on my desk, but only one stayed there permanently.

The very last day of Teacher Appreciation Week, this little girl wrapped up her most prized toy in aluminum foil and gave it to me.  I tried to give it back knowing how much it meant to her.  She refused.  After she walked away, my heart sank. 

I still have the little Beanie Baby in my attic along with the other little trinkets I was given throughout the years.  They all have a story, a memory, tied to them.  Some funny, some sentimental, but none as touching as the little girl's.

So no matter how big or small the gift, please show appreciation for the men and women who care for your children as much as they care for their own.

To my former staff, I hope you have the best week.  I cherish the time I worked with each one of you.  The work you do to better children is amazing. Thank you for being the teachers and women you are to each person who comes in contact with you.

Textification

Texting has ruined our universe.  Ruined it.  The written word will never be the same.  Take writing projects for example.  In fourth grade I had multiple students sit down for the first draft conference and most of their paper was written in texting form.  Say what?!?  Yes, texting form.  Heck, I remember the days when the kids asked if they were supposed to write in cursive.  Now it's, "Do I have to write out the word, or can I use the number?"  What has this world come to??? 

Since we all know I was such a phenomenal teacher.  And when I say phenomenal, I mean rock star.  And when I say rock star, I mean rock star royalty.  Kind of like Madonna.  Frankly, I was so good I should have had just one name.  Torres.  None of that Mrs. Torres stuff.  Sorry.  I just had to reminisce how wonderful I was.  It makes me feel better about wiping my kids' bums all day long.

Back to being phenomenal...

Since I was, you know, phenomenal, I decided to do a lesson on decoding my texting.  I wrote a paragraph on the white board in texting form, and then they had to rewrite the paragraph in the correct form.  One of the more genius ideas I've had.  Here's an example of the assignment...

1 day i was walking down the hall @ skool i slipped on a banana peel & fell down i was layin on the floor trying 2 get up when my bff walked by she helped me up & then walked awy  i was lik what she didnt evn say nething 2 me she just walked off mayb shes mad mayb shes not but idk what 2 thnk mayb ill just b mad 2 lol

The kids were so frustrated trying to figure out what I was trying to say.  Figuring out the correct punctuation alone would have been enough, but decoding the 'words' was over the edge. To make matters worse I told them it was for a grade (because I was that nice).  Then we graded it in class.  Most received an "F".  Then I told them I'd cut them a deal.  If they stopped writing their writing projects and assignments in texting form, then I'd graciously throw this assignment in the trash.  They accepted.  I won.  Again, I was a phenomenal teacher!  Conniving, but phenomenal.

The List

My 'to do list' was unreal today.  Unreal.  Only Superwoman herself could accomplish a list like I had going on.  A list that covered two pages.  I woke up stressed just thinking about The List, immediately got started on The List, and then realized it could be worse.  I could be working full time as a teacher AND have The List waiting for my weekend work.  Not to mention A List that would be sitting on my desk at work for things that would have to be done Monday morning.  Stress, stress, stress.  And that my friends, is why I quit my job.  Stress, stress, stress.  Well that, and three little ones who've stolen my heart.  Those little thieves!

All this thinking about stress, and lists, and teaching got me thinking about one story in particular that happened on a Friday.  I remember this one specifically, because it drew a pretty large crowd.  For a brief moment I was a star.  Celebrity is more like it.  Okay, okay not exactly a celebrity, but people were staring.  Mouths agape is disbelief.  Here's what happened...

I was sitting with my class in the cafegymatorium (cafeteria/gymnasium/auditorium) waiting for Rise and Shine to begin.  All of a sudden I've got a parent about three inches away from my face, mad as...well, I don't know, he was just mad; face all red, breathing hard, and having difficulty controlling his tone he said, "Is Jeffrey going to get to help with the Kindergarten today or what?" 

You see, his son, Jeffrey had a huge issue with turning in work.  Let's be honest, he had a huge issue with doing work.  Never did it.  At the end of every day, I would (by request of his father) help him go through all the work he didn't do, organize him, and help him load it in his backpack.  Then, I would meet his father outside to verbally go over all of his work that needed to be completed.  The next day, he would walk in class with very little finished. What was finished would be in his father's handwriting.  Reminder:  I taught fourth grade!!!   Kids that are 9 and 10 years old.  Not babies!

So after months and months of Jeffrey and his father proving that I was only enabling the behavior, I told the father that I would no longer spend my time fishing for work from his son.  He could either do his work, or not.  His choice.  However, I would set up a reward system for him.  If he could complete all of his work, and get it turned in on time for one week, he could spend 30 minutes with a Kindergarten class being a helper.  Jeffrey was really excited about this.  The first three days he miraculously turned in every piece of work.  The fourth day he walked in without any work at all.  I was bummed for him, but a deal's a deal.  I don't budge on deals.

So back to Friday at Rise and Shine...

"Is Jeffrey going to get to help with the Kindergarten today or what?" 

"Unfortunately, Mr. Irate, Jeffrey didn't turn in any of his work yesterday."

"That wasn't his fault.  His mom picked him up, brought him home to me.  She refused to let him work on his homework in the car.  She even kept his back pack in her car and I had to track her down to get it."

"Well, that sounds a bit odd.  I'll call his mom today to verify what you're saying, but as of now Jeffrey didn't hold up his end of the bargain. He's not going to get the reward."

At this point, a l-a-r-g-e crowd had gathered in the hallway where I had stepped out to speak to Mr. Irate.  People weren't just staring, they were gawking.  Hard.  I even had one former parent step in and ask if I was alright.  To which, Mr. Irate kindly answered for me, "Why wouldn't she be?  She's happy my kid isn't getting his reward!"  Wasn't that kind of him?

"Mr. Irate, that is absurd.  I was the one who offered Jeffrey this reward.  No other child in my class gets a reward for turning in their work.  It's expected of them.  This was something offered to Jeffrey to help motivate him.  I'm sorry he chose not to do what was expected of him."

"IT WASN'T HIS FAULT!!!"

"That may be how you view it, but I highly doubt his mother would refuse to let him do his homework let alone keep his back pack from him.  In fact, when he's with his mother, he comes back with some of his work in his own handwriting.  Not done by his mother.  I will verify your story with her, but I don't think they will match up.  If you are telling me the truth, I'll be more than happy to rework this reward with Jeffrey."

"Forget it. He's not going to do any work for you for the rest of the year, and I don't blame him!"

"I'm sorry you have such low expectations for Jeffrey.  However, I will expect work from him until the last day of school.  If he doesn't do it, then you should expect F's on his report card.  That's just life.  You get what you put into something."

Never in my life had I spoken to a parent like this before, but I had HAD it!  I was done with the excuses, the lies, the 'baby'ing.  I marched right into my assistant principal's office and filled her in on the conversation (along with a few parents who had witnessed the conversation).  Mr. Irate received a phone call that day telling him he was no longer allowed to discuss Jeffrey directly with me.  He would have to go through a principal or counselor first.  Funny how he never contacted them.  Jeffrey never turned in his work either.  Sad.  Just plain sad, but a good reminder on days like this.  The List isn't seeming so bad now...

A Little Stinker

Back in the day.  The 'day' being when I was a teacher, I had a little stinker in my class.  Not figuratively speaking.  Literally speaking.  I'm not quite sure what he ate at home, but whatever it was...well, let's not go there.  However, this little stinker also had great manners.  Always used his please and thank you's. Always held the door open for me, and always announced when to not go near the bathroom.  It usually came out like this, "Mrs. Torres, I don't think you should let anyone go in there for a while."  However, it didn't really matter, the funk spread quickly.  At least he claimed it.  That way no one was looking around for the culprit, and we could move on to Social Studies.

I'm not quite sure why I felt the need to share this, but shared I did.  Do with it what you will...

Happy Hump Day!

Paid Enough?

For the most part, people appreciate the job teachers perform everyday.  A job that they do not want to do, or just couldn't do.  On the other hand, there is a small percentage of people who think teachers are worthless.  Lazy.  Whiny.  Overpaid.  Some of those statements are definitely true.  I have come across a handful of teachers who NEED to find a different profession.  However, the thought that teachers are overpaid (since we don't work summers and breaks) is ludicrous. Who you consider yourself overpaid if this happened to you.

During my fourth year of teaching, I had a special class.  A special class with a few fireballs mixed in.  Two fireballs.  One we'll call Alvin, and the other we'll call Willy. 

Now Alvin was the kind of kid who made you want to invest in super glue.  He never sat down.  In fact, he never stayed still.  Always moving. Always blurting out. Always losing his pencil. The thought of putting super glue in his chair and on his pencil crossed my mind multiple times that year.  Okay, I'll be honest.  It crossed my mind multiple times a day.  Not really wanting to make the nightly news, I had to come up with a different plan.  One, I moved him to the back of the room so he could stand/walk/jump/convulse/ etc. all he wanted as long as he paid attention.  And two, I tied a piece of yarn around his pencil and then tied the other end to the leg of his desk.  Double knotted.  Genius. Pure genius. Ten minutes later. "Uh, Mrs. Torres?  I can't find my pencil."

As for Willy, he was a funny kid.  A funny kid who had good days and bad days. When the good days were good, they were good. I prayed for good days every morning.  I would sit at his desk and pray for good days.  I would pray and pray and pray because the bad days were slap your mama bad. 

The worst of the bad days started because of a haircut.  Willy had super long hair for a boy and his mom finally made him get it cut off.  He didn't like it, so he came to school on a 90 degree day in hoodie.  Hood on. After the morning bell rang, I asked him to take it off.  Didn't happen.  Asked again.  Didn't happen.  Prayed for some patience, and cooperation on his part and asked again.  Apparently Willy was not listening to the angels that day.  The next thing I knew, a backpack was flying across the room along with some profanities that could rival a sailor, and a desk that was now laying at my feet.  Some of the kids even took cover under their desks.  To be honest, I wanted to take cover...in a fetal position.  The words, "Welcome to Walmart.  Is that a return?" came to mind. Surely, I could do something else for the money, but teachers are paid really, really well.  Right?

Disclaimer- I absolutely loved my job as a teacher and would not ever trade any of the experiences I had or the children.  Each child is special, and had unique qualities. Some more than others. ;)

Oops!

For the most part, I've got it together.  Very organized and scheduled.  I like my routine, and I like being on top of things.  Sometimes, though, I drop the ball.  And when the ball gets dropped, it gets dropped big time.  I've got a perfect case in point.

The elementary school I taught at had a weekly program called Rise and Shine.  It was a time for the entire school to meet in the gym Friday mornings for announcements and rewards.  A time where we celebrated children's successes.  One class would lead the entire assembly and then do a little performance.  Pretty cool.  Pretty cool, if you remember that YOUR class is supposed to lead.  Pretty embarrassing if you don't.  Especially if it's your first year of teaching.  Your very first year.

I was just sitting there in the cafegymatorium (cafeteria/gymnasium/auditorium) wondering why there was not a class up there ready to begin.  It was 8:30 by gosh.  I had things to get started on.  Geez!  What poor planning.  As I was sitting there stewing over the waste of time, the assistant principal walks up to me and asks if it was my week to do Rise and Shine.  "Not this week, Mrs. K.  I've got it next Friday."

She leaves and returns with the master calendar, and there in red ink is my name on the calendar.  Ink that was clearly written with my own hand.  I dropped the ball.  To make matters worse, the entire school knew I dropped the ball.

Thank goodness I worked with such kind and understanding people.  Up until the last year of teaching, several teachers would call to remind me when I had Rise and Shine.  Just in case I wrote it down on my own personal calendar incorrectly.  Those buttheads!  I guess I deserve it though.  I'm just as ornery.

Say What?

This story does not come from my classroom, but courtesy of the learning disability teacher at my former school.  This story had the lounge rolling for the entire lunch period. 

As the kids were filing in to Mrs. L's class, one boy is particularly excited.

"Mrs. L, Mrs. L., I'm going to be rich!!!"

"You are?"

"Yep.  My mom is going to marry a doctor."

"Wow, that's exciting.  I didn't know your mom had a new boyfriend."

"She doesn't.  It's still the same guy."

"Well isn't she dating Jimmy's dad?"

Jimmy pipes up, "Yes, they're still dating."

Johnny turns to Jimmy, "Tell Mrs. L, Jimmy.  You're dad's a doctor."

Jimmy turns to Mrs. L, "He's sorta a doctor.  He's the Glass Doctor."

Mrs. L had to go on to explain to poor Johnny that he was not going to be rich.  Jimmy's dad works for a company called Glass Doctor.  They repair glass like a doctor repairs humans. 

Needless to say, Johnny was bummed for the rest of class.  He had already started working on his Christmas List.

A Heartwarmer

If you have ever been in an elementary school for any period of time you know two things.  One, kids come in from recess and need a thousand things...I have to go to the bathroom...So and so kicked the soccer ball over the fence..My knee hurts...Can I go to the nurse...She looked at me...etc, etc, etc.  And two, they smell like wet dog.  Just a fact.  Not really pertinent to the story, but information you need to know.

On this particular day all of the above happened, except for one boisterous voice that needed to be heard.  The difference was this voice was not speaking to have his needs met, but to let out something he witnessed.  Something that bothered him.  Really bothered him.  Okay.  I'm listening, Dalton.  Go ahead.

"Mrs. Torres, Janie (not her real name) invited everyone in her class to her birthday party on Saturday.  Everyone is making fun of her because she did, and they decided to tell her that they would come, but not show up."

Now let me stop right here and share a few things.  Little Janie was an outcast.  She had one friend, and that one friend moved in the middle of the year.  Her family was really, really poor.  I mean really poor.  She only wore dresses, and the dresses she had were hand-me-downs from ages ago.  In good condition, but WAY out of fashion.  For her to invite her whole class (with handmade invitations) to her birthday party was a big deal.  Okay, back to the story...

"Dalton, I'm glad that something like this bothers you.  It shows you care."

"Anyone else hear about this?" (the whole class raised their hands)

"Okay.  What can we do to make this better for Little Janie?"

Lots of different answers came about, and we discussed each one in depth.  Most solutions came from the girls who decided to ask her to play with them more, and show interest in the things she liked doing.

I was pretty pleased with their solutions, but noticed Dalton hadn't said much.  He just said he was going to do something.  I kind of wondered what that something was, but didn't probe too much.  He was deep in thought.  We moved on.

That was on a Friday.  I came home and shared the story with Steven, but other than that I didn't let the situation consume me too much, and decided to check on Little Janie first thing Monday morning.

Monday morning came, and Little Janie was no where to be found, but I did run smack into Dalton.

"Mrs. Torres, have you seen Janie this morning?"

"No, Dalton I haven't.  That's just who I was looking for.  If I find her, I'll tell her you were looking for her."

As Dalton turned to walk away, I saw he had a large gift sack in his hand.  Complete with a card and tissue paper.  Man, the tears started welling up in my eyes.   I knew why he was searching for Little Janie.

Turns out he never found her that morning, and it was a good thing, because it all came down to perfect timing.  Since he didn't see her before class, he decided to take the gift to lunch.  He knew he'd see her there along with the rest of her class.  After washing his hands, he walks straight over to her, hands her the gift, and says, "I know I didn't get invited to your party, but I wanted to give you this."

That girl was beaming!  I mean ear to ear smiling.  It was a beautiful moment.  She opened the gift and found a new purse with some girly things inside.  Dalton had hand picked it out, and spent his own money to buy it.  The rest of the kids (who had been a bunch of meany pants to her) just sat there and stared.  The best part about it was they wouldn't make fun of Dalton for giving her a gift.  They were all friends with him.  The girls wanted to go out with him, and the boys knew he could beat them up.  It was a beautiful, beautiful moment.  Moments that make you thankful for teaching.

The Down Right Scary

Beautiful, beautiful Spring day.  Birds were chirping.  I was driving to work with my windows down.  I was early (no kids then).  Life was good.  Opened my classroom door and started on my usual morning tasks.  Unload bag...check.  File graded papers...check.  Write assignments on the board...check.  Respond to emails...check.  Wait, there's a voicemail...listen to voicemail...

"Why on Earth would you send a {bleepedly, bleep, bleep} kid home with a {bleepedly, bleep, bleep} backpack, loaded down with {bleepedly, bleep, bleep} books.  Are you {bleepedly, bleep, bleep} insane?  I should have you pay for her {bleepedly, bleep, bleep} medical bills when she has {bleepedly, bleep, bleep} back problems you stupid {bleepedly, bleep, bleep}.  If you don't have room to store all these {bleepedly, bleep, bleep} books, then that's your problem.  Not my daughter's."

-End of Message

Wow!  What a refreshing way to start your beautiful Spring day.  The day you were early to work (because you didn't have kids).  The day you were feeling great. 

After I composed myself, I contacted my principal, forwarded her the message, and was advised to not ever contact that father.  Never.  Ever. 

Okay, no problemo.  Didn't want to call him back anyway.

So Little Janie (not her real name) walks in, and I proceed to ask her why her father thinks she has to take all her books home?

"I don't know Mrs. Torres.  He just thinks I do for some reason."

"Oh, that's very interesting."

"Yes, Mrs. Torres.  That is very interesting."

The rest of the day went on.  Little Janie not making any eye contact at all.  Hmmmm?  Guilty?  I think so.

I let it go.  She knew she was lying.  I thought I'd just let her sweat it out.  Until....

Dismissal bell rings.  Door opens.  Kids file out the door.  Giving out hugs, reminders to those who have homework, and WHAM!  Right in my face is Mr. Crazy. 

"Why didn't you call me back?'

"Well Mr. Crazy, after seeking advice from my principal, I was advised to not have contact with you given the abusive language you used on my voicemail.  I would have been happy to discuss with you any issues you have, given you would have addressed me with a certain level of respect."

"Why should I respect someone who decides to send a fourth grader home with a backpack heavier than them?"

"Sir, we're going to have to move this into the office with supervision.  Our school police officer is here today, and he would like to offer his assistance if I need it."

"Fine, but I don't know why you feel threatened."

{conversation moves to office with Mr. Police Officer, Mr. Crazy, Little Janie, and myself}

"Mr. Crazy, I'm not sure why you think Little Janie needs to take home all of her school supplies and textbooks, but that information is incorrect."

"Because Little Janie told me and she has never lied to me."

I turn to Little Janie, "Little Janie, is this true?  Did you tell your father that I force you to take home all your school supplies and textbooks home each night?"

"Yes, Mrs. Torres.  I did."

I'm going to end the story here, because I think you get the point.  His child lied to him (gasp)!  You see, Little Janie did a lot of piddling in class.  A LOT.  Consequently, she had loads of homework. She didn't want to be in trouble at home (I can totally see why).  To cover her tracks she made up a story that there was no storage in the classroom.  Everything had to go in their backpacks.  I think a normal (rational) person would think this was a little bizzare, but then again we are dealing with Mr. Crazy. 

So my moral is this...

If your child comes home telling you an unbelievably crazy story about their classroom teacher, chances are it is untrue.  However, you should contact the teacher just in case.  Just don't use profanities ;)

Oh, and I never did get an apology from Mr. Crazy, and I check my mail everyday...

Beyond the Classroom Walls

Reading, Writing, Grammar (well, maybe not grammar), Social Studies, Math, and Science.  I loved teaching them all.  Each one had an area that would spark interests in kids if taught well.  However, there is one subject I enjoyed teaching above the rest.  Character.

Character is not something that is really focused on in most classrooms or homes, but judging by our society it is a crucial element in how we relate to others.  My motto for teaching was to have students walk out of my classroom better kids...mentally, emotionally, and socially.  Sure teaching kids content is super important, but that will only take them so far in life.  Getting along with others, and having compassion will get a person a lot further than knowledge.

A couple of years ago, I had the privilege of teaching a group of students who really grasped the character skills.  It was probably the most challenging year teaching the content areas.  I had 5 kids who were on a Kindergarten reading level, and another 5 kids who were reading at a 7th grade or above level.  Like I said, challenging!  However this group of kids looked to serve others before serving themselves.  These kids were amazing.  Absolutely amazing!  You can read their story here.  It is one that makes my heart sore.  I'm so very proud of this group of kids.  Even though they have hit the hormonal sixth grade year, I still hear stories of how each one excels in this or that area.  Hearing about their successes makes me feel like a proud mama!

UPDATE!  Not only did these kids raise all the school supplies needed for every child at the school, but they also brought items for the teachers and raised $500 to ship 10 boxes to Africa. 

When You Know You Shouldn't Laugh

My mind has been wondering lately.  And let me tell you, that's a very scary thing.  In fact, it's been wondering back to the days when I was a teacher (Okay, so not that long ago, but it sure feels like it!).  With all this chaotic mind wondering going on, I figured I'd better start writing this stuff down before it's too late (i.e. before I forget it). 

You're probably wondering how this affects you as a reader.  Well, it just means you are going to have to endure posts all about the happenings of public school teacher.  Some funny, some sad, some scary, and some down right unbelievable.  Today, we'll start with the funny...

The year, 2002.  My very first year as a teacher.  I loved that class.  I had not a clue what I was doing (four years of college cannot possibly prepare you for twenty-five fourth graders), but I loved those kids.  Still do!  It was right after recess, and the class was silent.  Let's just spend some time reflecting on that word a moment.

Silent (sahy-luhnt)-making no sound; quiet; still

If you have ever been in a room for any period of time with a bunch of kids, you know this is virtually impossible.  However, it happened on this day.  Every single kid was reading, and it was S-I-L-E-N-T.  Sitting at my desk mentally patting myself on the back, it happened.  Little Johnny (not his real name of course) goes to prop his feet up on his desk, leans back in his chair, and rips the loudest bodily function that could ever come out of a little boy.  Of course the silence was replaced by obstreperous laughter, but not from this teacher.  No way.  I wasn't going to laugh and humiliate this kid anymore than he had to be already.  So I very calmly told the class, "Now guys, this happens to everyone.  Let's just get back to reading and leave Little Johnny alone."  I really felt like I deserved an Academy Award for that performance, because I really wanted to fall over, slap my knee, and laugh until I peed my pants.  But, no.  I was professional.  Until...

Little Johnny (who has a horrendous speech impedement) says, "I can't beweive I just fawted in fwont of the hoe class!"  (Translation: I can't believe I just farted in front of the whole class.)  That was all it took.  I lost it.  I couldn't stop laughing.  Tears rolling, falling over, slapping my knee laughing.  Thank goodness I didn't pee my pants (but, it was a close call). 

I'm not really sure what happened after that because the laughter went on for so long, but it goes down in history as one of my all time funniest moments as a teacher.  As for Little Johnny, he'll be a Senior next year, and you'd better believe I'll bring that up at the Senior breakfast!  Poor guy.