I Didn't Eat It

 What?

You heard me: I. Didn't. Eat. It.

I came up with this phrase at some point during my eleven years teaching fifth grade. Kids continually complain that they can't find their belongings (pencils, markers, glue, homework, binder, textbook, sweatshirt... the list is endless). Often they outright ask their teacher (or parent) where it is. I can't find my...? Have you seen...? Where is...? Some are quite demanding, whether in tone or frequency, or both. One day, in response to one of my more insistent students, the words that came out of my mouth were, "I didn't eat it." It stopped the kid in his tracks. His mouth opened, but he had no idea how to respond. Of course, the other kids laughed. Seconds later, he found whatever item had been misplaced. It stuck. I've said it multiple times to every class I've had since - which now spans fourth through eighth grades.

Over the years it has also become a constant refrain in my home. My husband and I say it to each other and to our kids. My kids have long since stopped being amused. I remember clearly my then middle schooler saying one day, "Mom, I know you didn't eat it, but have you seen my...?" But more often I get, "Mom, will you STOP saying that? It's NOT helpful!" Over decade later, the phrase still amuses me. 

I said these four words to my current class of fourth graders for the very first time yesterday. One of my more dramatic students misplaced his pencil between our last activity before lunch and our first activity after recess. A spectacular search ensued, with opening and closing of his desk, crawling on the floor, and lots of shifting items around, all with wildly waving arms. An accompanying distracted monologue topped off the show, to which 95% of the class was glued. "Where's my pencil? I know I had it. I put it here. I can't find my pencil..." The spectacle lasted less than a minute before I casually responded to one of the "Where's my pencil?" questions with, "I didn't eat it."

At the time I said it, I was walking toward the computer with our lone Zoom student to reposition her view for the next lesson. She snorted. Other kids giggled. The child with the missing pencil said, "What? That doesn't make any sense!"  Seconds later, he found his pencil.

Nothing is Automatic

 These weeks are long. My sense of time has been "off" for quite some time, but in a new way now that I am teaching in person four days per week. On Thursday nights I find myself forgetting that I have to prepare my presentation for the morning Zoom check in and that the weekend hasn't started yet. I seem to always be end-of-the-week tired. Even this week, after a teacher work day (no student Zoom last Friday) followed by a bona fide day off on Monday, was a long week.

One of my co-workers put it this way: Nothing is automatic. Everything is brand new. Teaching on Zoom at the same time as teaching in person, while trying to be engaging and keep everyone physically distanced... Nothing is automatic. Everything is brand new. There's snow on the ground, but I have to open the window and turn on the fan. I have to remember to open my Zoom room and check in with the remote learners while answering questions and allowing the in person learners to go refill water bottles (from our hands free fountains with the drinking spout taped over) or use the restroom... but the protocols in place for those normal in-person routines, are all new and therefore not automatic.

I leave my classroom to pick up my kids from recess without my mask at least twice a week. Thus far I haven't made it more than a step or two outside my classroom before remembering. Even though I have no problem ripping my mask off as soon as I am alone in my classroom, it certainly isn't a habit to put on a mask after my breaks.

The kids really want to do the right thing, but they need constant reminders about physical distancing, keeping their noses covered, physical distancing, not touching their masks or faces, physical distancing, changing their masks when they get wet (from saliva), physical distancing, putting up their plastic shields before they take off their masks to eat snack or lunch, physical distancing... Walking out to recess and lining up at the end of it is when they are most likely to clump up. They run to their friends and engage in conversation, as they should! And really, most of what they want to say, have been dying to say for several hours (or at least minutes), I'm sure they don't want to broadcast to a six foot radius. I walk out to recess and back in chanting, "Six feet! Six feet! Six feet!"

I got my second dose of the Moderna vaccine last weekend. Two school parents work for a local medical group and offered vaccines to the entire school staff just before MLK weekend. We weren't told the specifics of their reasoning, but the prevailing hypothesis is they had "leftover" vaccine after all of their phase 1A appointments and either wanted to ensure a full compliment of their 1B doses by getting all of their first set distributed, or they were running against the clock, worrying about how many days the doses had been at a certain temperature. 

The first dose hit me like a ton of bricks. Most of my co-workers had mild to severe pain at the injection site. I had severe injection site pain but also was pretty much non-functional for 48+ hours due to fatigue, fever, dizziness, and achiness. I spent the three day weekend on the couch, feeling grateful that the second dose was also on a three day weekend. My husband made sure I ate and reminded me that making COVID antibodies was a very productive use of my weekend. In anticipation of the second dose, I cleared my calendar and to do list. I made sure there was *nothing* I had to do for the weekend. And then the snow came. The clinic texted everyone scheduled for their second dose saying they would be open despite the storm, but that we should call on Tuesday (after the President's Day holiday) to reschedule if we couldn't get there for the Saturday vaccination clinic.

Unlike most of my co-workers I live fairly close to the clinic that was offering us the vaccine. It's only 10 minutes from my house. But I live 15 minutes from the freeway, and 10 freeway miles from the school where I work. I knew I was going to brave the snow to get my second dose because I knew I needed a three day weekend to recuperate.

I asked my husband to drive me and we elected to see how our minivan handles in the snow since our AWD vehicle has been in use by our 18 year old since October and was iced over, covered with about a foot of snow in our driveway. The minivan failed the snow test. We got out of our driveway just fine, but then got stuck blocking TWO of our neighbors' driveways. A different neighbor saw our predicament from his window across the street, and literally came running to our rescue. First he dug out our tires enough, and helped to push so that we were able to re-position the minivan so that it was only blocking our own driveway. (It stayed there until Monday afternoon.)

But our neighbor's real heroism came when he discovered why we were trying to leave the house in the middle of a snow event. He said more than once, "Oh, you can't miss that," before offering to drive me to the clinic for my second dose. Not only did he have a 4WD truck that was in his garage, but he was a cool, experienced snow driver. In the 20+ years I have lived here, I have never seen the main streets outside my neighborhood so covered...possibly because I have never left my house at the height of a snow event before. No bare pavement was visible anywhere. I felt like we were driving on at least six inches of snow pack. As a California native married to a California native, even with the right vehicle we weren't cut out for driving on that. But I felt completely comfortable with my neighbor, a retired state patrol accident investigator, at the wheel. I love my neighborhood!

That was all six days ago. I needed a nap that afternoon and spent the next day on the couch, even though I woke up full of energy. A shower and breakfast sapped it all out of me. Monday was better, much better, but my arm felt like it was on fire and/or it was going to fall off. I still did laundry and swept the kitchen floor. The second dose wasn't a picnic, but for me, it was not as bad as the first.

I know I still need to wear a mask and stay six feet away from others whenever I am outside my home. But I do feel significantly less anxiety teaching in person now that I am "fully vaccinated" (...and am I the only one that thinks that makes me sound like a dog??). 

What is Age?

Modern social media has shown me glimpses into the lives of young adults who are former students of mine. I have been in the classroom long enough that former students (fifth graders, mostly, but a few third graders) have earned advanced degrees, gotten married, died.

This week a former student reached out to me to ask if I could attend a rosary for a classmate of his who passed away four years ago. I taught them both fifth grade over a decade ago. Even though I couldn't attend because the rosary was happening at the same time as the accreditation initial visit for my current school, I haven't been able to stop thinking about that class and the life that was cut short. I have always strived to do my best by my students. I have always done my best by my students. But there are specific memories that make me cringe, going all the way back to my student teaching days. I have fallen short over and over again, and known - FELT - it. How many times have I fallen short and not even known?

Okay, this isn't about me. There is more to say than I will be able to encapsulate in this post. I have all the feels tonight. I feel guilty that I couldn't attend the rosary today. I feel vindicated that a former student I had "a knock down, drag out fight" (words spoken by the person who held a point of view different from mine on the student in question) to be put in the regular math class over the remedial one, is now an oncology nurse. I feel humbled that a former student said I am "the youngest teacher out there," "really are Wonder Woman," and that I "haven't changed at all since fifth grade" in comments on a thread where she is the original poster.

After I mentioned that I have now taught every grade level from third through eighth, one of my former fifth graders asked me what my favorite grade level was to teach. I think I have a special place in my heart for every grade level/subject area I have taught. Every year I have had a new teaching assignment, that new assignment has become my favorite. Just ask my husband. Third grade was exactly where I was meant to be, until I left and found another position in fifth. I distinctly remember thinking the fifth graders were "big" and "beyond me" when I taught third grade. But then I spent more years teaching fifth graders than fifth graders have been alive, and loved every year.

Fifth graders are the mushy middle of the K-8 school system. They are definitely not primary students anymore but neither are they middle school students. For a majority of the years I taught this grade level, we ran on the middle school schedule, even though we weren't considered part of the middle school. In the same classroom kids can be losing their teeth right and left while others are knee deep in puberty, wondering what in the heck is happening to their bodies. On my first overnight field trip (four days of outdoor environmental education at a YMCA camp) the first year I taught fifth grade, one of my students got her first period. Thankfully her mother was a cabin leader on the trip, and had older daughters. 

When I took a long term sub job teaching middle school ELA I knew I was in over my head. Except, from day one, I wasn't. I developed rapport with the kids and discovered a knack for storytelling the right story at the right time for the kids in my room. They were hungry for information that might smooth their path into high school, and I had stories from my parenting experience as well as my own memories of high school that eased their anxieties. As an eighth grade homeroom teacher I had a student tell me I was a powerful motivational speaker.

Now I am teaching fourth grade, in the middle of a pandemic. Of course I love it. But I love what I do. I know I am good at it. I strive to be great at it, and am aware that some days I fall short. But I always have energy and enthusiasm for my students.

I have grown as an educator, but I pray that I keep growing. As a first year teacher I kept myself afloat with the thought, "If I ever feel like I have done the best, and can't grow anymore as a teacher, that's when I'll need to get out of the classroom." More than 20 years later, it's still true. It's not the overt thought it once was, a lifeline to cling to as I kept my head above water in a new profession, but it still remains at the core of who I am as a teacher. What can I do better next year? next week? tomorrow? 

Two Weeks of In-Person Learning

 Last week was Catholic Schools Week, complete with days to appreciate families, teachers, students, and the larger community that supports each Catholic school around the world. It's a fun week with spirit days, gifts, and activities. I was overwhelmed with the amount of cards, candy, flowers, and Starbucks gift cards I received from students on the day designated by my school as teacher appreciation day.

On student appreciation day there is generally an assembly. After attempting to organize a drive in movie night that fell through, my principal was able to arrange for a Zoom interactive assembly with a local children's entertainer who calls himself the Zaniac. He put out a list of items the kids should have on hand to participate in the show: a light jacket or hoodie, a yardstick, a deck of cards, and a set of juggling balls (with a tutorial for making some out of household items). My fourth graders gave the show *glowing* reviews afterwards. 

Every single one of my homeroom kids came into the building every day last week. That makes my job much easier than that of my colleagues who must deal with online students at the same time as in person students. I feel very lucky that I don't have to host a Zoom as I am teaching, and glad that none of my nine and ten year old homeroom students have to sit in front of a computer from 8:30-3:00 every day. Indeed, online learning models that mirrored the school day is why one of my students was pulled from his local public school and put in mine shortly after the school year began. There are four students in my partner teacher's homeroom that are learning online. Two of them have parents that don't feel comfortable sending them into the building, one of them is suffering from extreme anxiety, and one's parents are worried that wearing a mask and staying six feet away from others will be too much of a challenge for their child who is on the spectrum. My partner teacher and I agree that the last of these kids probably wouldn't have more trouble with masks and staying six feet away from others than the average fourth grader, and that we are up to the task of building good COVID safety habits in all of our students. But given the craziness of the world, we respect all of the different reasons families are keeping their kids at home or sending them to school

The switch to in person learning has shifted my locus of concern from the quiet kids to the ones who lack impulse control. I am no longer worrying about the student who refused to turn on audio or video and concerned that the majority of my students were happy to let one or two classmates answer every question. Now that we are in the building they are all finding their voices and raising their hands to participate. Different concerns have come to the forefront. I have spent two weeks dealing with recess problems spilling into instructional time, and continually re-teaching the rules to four square. One of my students drew blood from another during one of our first recesses. 

Did you know that four square must be played underhand? Did you know that fourth graders don't really know the difference between underhand and overhand? I took screenshots of both hand positions from a video of four square rules and told the kids that raising your hand is overhand and sticking gum under a desk is underhand. The idea for the second example came from my 18 year old. Four square has taken a surprising amount of my time and energy over the past two weeks.

I was super excited to wear my Donald Duck hat, complete with tiny body hanging off the back of the oversized head on crazy hat day. When my principal saw it, he said he has the same one! I enjoyed Catholic Spirit Wear day, when I wore my Seattle U sweatshirt and one of my current fourth graders wore my old school spirit sweatshirt that I gave to her mother after leaving the school three years ago (and gaining weight.) But the best spirit day was crazy hair day. I am usually stressed by crazy hair day because I have lots of hair that I should be able to do something very crazy and fun with... it's too much pressure for me. I have great hair, but I am not great with hair. I can't even French braid. But the student teacher has a daughter who loves cosplay, and she had the best idea. It will be my go to crazy hairdo henceforth.