Now What?

This was the weirdest week. After ending last week with a phone call from a parent causing me to melt down, this week just continued the roller coaster ride. I am pretty sure my reaction last week was in part due to me being at the end of my own rope thanks to it being the second May of a global pandemic. Thankfully I really do love my job. 

It was standardized testing week. For the first time in my 20+ years of teaching, I came through with zero students needing to take a make up test, or even needing to utilize the make up time to finish now that we take the untimed MAP test. Every student was present (in person, even) for every testing period. Those who didn't finish with their peers were able to complete their tests after they finished other work on the same day or during the next morning's "soft start" time.

What was that I said about teaching math last week? Dang. This year I have the funniest gifted, yet reluctant, math student. Her recent gem reached into the thousands of likes in a teacher group on Facebook only 24 hours after I posted a pic.

The consensus in the comments is that the child needs a gifted IEP and art lessons. Admittedly I haven't read every one of the over 100 comments, but I haven't seen a negative one in the mix. Both the number of likes and the possible positive only comments are Facebook wins.

We made it into the garden this week for the first time all year. A guest garden educator helped us plant vegetable and marigold starts and had the kids do some weeding. My students found so much joy in weeding! The second group to plant turned eager eyes to the garden educator asking, "Can we go back to weeding?" as soon as their plants were in the ground and watered. 

They attacked the biggest weeds they could find and were disappointed when it was time for us to leave the garden to make room for the next class.

During my recess duty this week, I had some third grade girls rush up to me complaining about how one of their classmates had made their friend sad. Their friend had mentioned earning money for work she had done the day before and the classmate had bragged that he could easily make more money in less time. When I talked to the girls' friend, after just a few words she recognized that her classmate's words were likely untrue and maybe even came from a place of jealousy. She also took the next step of telling him assertively how his words made her feel. Her Second Step training (and mine) kicked in and paid off. The same couldn't be said for her classmate, but he did give her an apology, punctuated with an eye roll. She was satisfied enough that she was able to run around and play with her friends again. Wouldn't it be great if all crises were that manageable?

One morning this week did begin with an enormous adrenaline rush. I usually get to the school about the same time as the before school childcare employee and her children. Her kids have helped me carry my bags in, she's opened the door for me when I left my keys locked in my classroom, and we always exchange pleasantries. But one morning this week she was sitting outside with her children and one other student when I arrived. She started to tell me why, but was interrupted by one of the kids, excited to explain that we would have to cancel school for the day because there was a gas leak. After listening to the adult's explanation of the very strong smell of gas, and the people she had contacted, I went into the building, knowing at least two of my colleagues were already in their classrooms upstairs. The stench was the worst gas smell I have ever experienced. One breath was nauseating. Getting myself past the downstairs hallway and up the stairs as quickly as possible, the smell rapidly dissipated behind me. I checked in with the teachers who were indeed already in their classrooms but hadn't smelled the gas because they entered the building from the upstairs entry. We began making calls. My co-worker called the facilities director while I called the principal. My call went to voicemail, which I followed up with a text. While I was texting my boss, the other teacher was following the directions of the facilities director to call the fire department. Rather than looking up the number to the local fire department, she dialed 9-1-1, and was routed to FIVE different people before finding someone who could help us. 

We evacuated while every fire truck in the city responded. Afterwards someone explained that a gas leak had caused an explosion a few years back, and ever since they err on the side of caution. My pictures were taken from the lower lot, by the door I use to enter the building each morning. But I'm told there were at least two more trucks by the main entrance to the building. 

A van from the local energy company arrived shortly after I took my pictures. The fire department found some spilled water had extinguished the pilot light on the gas stove in the kitchen, and run a test on our gas lines, finding no sign of a leak. The gas company ran their own check and came to the same conclusion. We were all invited back into the building, and asked to open every window and door. From arrival to actually entering my classroom was 45 minutes. We had a completely normal school day, with the rolling drop off beginning just fifteen minutes after the fire department gave us the all clear.

Everyone who was present for the crazy morning was in good spirits. We joked with each other and even got to know one another a bit better. The Mexican born daycare worker (who always calls me "miss!" or "teacher" even though I've told her my name several times) asked if I was born in this country. I told her, "soy media peruana, pero no hablo mucho espanol." She had noticed something in my facial features and hair that tipped her off to my Latin descent. Somehow, that single interaction made me feel seen.

When Teaching Math Makes you Laugh

So after the downer post that was yesterday, I wanted to take a moment to focus on something much more positive. I'm sure you've all seen posts of funny student answers on assignments. This year I have a student who consistently makes me laugh with her responses, most often on her math papers. Her mom is a co-worker and friend of mine, so I have an inside view of how challenging it can be for this student to complete math assignments. She is really intelligent, and definitely an outside the box thinker.

We have standardized testing next week, so I'm handing out review sheets when they fit into the day with little to no instruction. A quick refresher often gives kids confidence going into this kind of test. But, when the kids saw the "Bonus Box" option to name all of the polygons on a perimeter worksheet, their eyes got huge and they asked if they had to do the bonus. I told them I'd like for them to try. Most of them declined. But this outside the box thinker did not disappoint in her responses. I had to give her bonus points for her answers!

Even though math assignments are challenging for this student, everyone who works with her can see that she does understand the concepts. But she doesn't like math and has developed several work avoidance techniques. Her parents, her therapist, and I are all working together to decrease these behaviors. She is slowly learning that there might be a short term gain to avoiding her work, but in the long run it becomes more work. We've added the incentive of the gift of a random Pokémon card for any assignment completed with expectations exceeded. (I kind of felt bad that the first one she earned from me was a lousy Energy card.) The assignment above definitely deserves a card, but her mom texted me a picture of something that surely deserves to be praised. 

When her mom asked why her math homework was taped to the shower, she responded, "So I can I review my math while I shower." 

Given that this is also the child that turned in the assignment below, I believe making her math work visible during her showers is a step in the right direction.

Kids really are awesome.

When Teachers Cry

 This week I had a parent reduce me to a sobbing, blubbering mess minutes before students walked into my classroom. I honestly think this is only the second time in my entire life a parent has undone me to this level. And the first time I was young, just barely out of my teens, and working in childcare.

For the 1997-1998 school year I was working a split shift at the before and after school daycare at the same school I had attended for my K-6 education. It was my "gap" year between my undergrad college experience and the fifth year teaching program required by the state of California, where I lived until I was married. 

There was a lice outbreak midyear. Kids were being sent home right and left from the school and daycare alike. We discovered a first grader had lice shortly after school got out one afternoon. The daycare director called her mom and informed her that she needed to come pick up her daughter ASAP. I don't know what occurred during the phone conversation, but the director was under the impression Mom would show up soon. She didn't. The director was a college student herself, and ended up having to leave for class before the parent arrived. Before she left, she pulled me aside and asked me to show Mom the "no nit policy" in the daycare contract when she showed up. The director even asked me to try to talk to the parent outside of the child's presence.

The parent finally arrived at her usual pick up time, just as we were setting up for our evening snack. I asked the first grader if she wanted to have snack before she left, and she joined the line at the snack table while I walked with her mom to the other portable to pick up the little girl's backpack and convey the message from my boss. She appeared to take the message well, and left with her daughter as soon as she skipped in with her Dixie cup full of Goldfish crackers.

But as soon as she settled her daughter in the car, Mom came back over to the portable where the remaining five kids, my co-worker, and I were winding down for the night. She yelled at me from the doorway, in front of everyone else who was still there. I don't even remember what she said. But I do know I had to lock myself in the bathroom after she left because I started sobbing as soon as the door closed behind her, and could not regain control of myself. My co-worker offered to close up and let me leave early, but I had walked to work, and wanted to stop sobbing before I left. I wasn't successful, and ended up having to walk home through a blurred vision because my eyes would not stop leaking.

My skin is thicker now, more than twenty years into my teaching career. I can think of several times when I've been frustrated, upset, even emotional about interactions I've had with parents. But reduced to an uncontrolled, emotional disaster hadn't happened since. Until now.

In this COVID crazy year, we have been working online quite a bit. My students know how to get ahold of me via Google Hangouts, Google Classroom messages, and email. They had individual meetings with me over Zoom, both scheduled and impromptu, before we came back into the building four days a week, with asynchronous Fridays. I had three "evidence gathering" assignments for a literary essay assignment last week. Two of them were digital and I told kids I would check them off on Saturday, giving them the entire asynchronous Friday work day to complete them before I even looked at them. On Saturday I sent blanket emails (bcc'd of course) to kids and their families who hadn't turned in one or both of the digital assignments, "Dear Fourth Graders, if you and your parents are receiving this email, it means you still haven't completed..."

I had a parent email me some point after that, with the message, "X said he messaged you asking for help??" I saw her message as I was packing up my computer on Sunday night for the next morning. I checked Google Hangouts and saw that her son had in fact sent me a message on Saturday. It was time stamped at 10:37am and asked for me to Zoom with him at 3:00pm.

I wrote back on Monday morning reminding the parent that I was not available to help students on Saturdays. She replied asking for a phone call. Knowing that she wanted to talk to me to complain, I cc'd my principal and offered up several times I was available. She said she would be sure to be able to take my call at any of the times I mentioned. I tried to call at the very first time I offered, 7:30am the following morning. I could not get through. I got two different errors, depending on whether I dialed 9 + area code + phone number or 91 + area code + phone number. We recently had a new phone system installed, so I tried several different phones in the building, including those that I was pretty sure had already been used for external calls, before the front office staff arrived and unlocked their space. With our rolling drop off to allow for COVID health screening of every individual before they enter the building, the front office officially opens at the same time students start arriving. As students started arriving for the day, I sent an email telling the parent I had tried to call, but apparently needed a tutorial on making external calls from our newly installed system. I promised to call the next morning. She wrote back thanking me and promising to be waiting for my call.

That afternoon I asked for a tutorial from the front office on our phone system. My story made the school secretary believe the new phones were not functioning as expected. She put in a call to the company that had installed our phones and told me she didn't think the problem was "operator error" on my part. The next morning I decided to try calling my own cell phone from the phone in my classroom. I discovered that with the 91 + area code + phone number option, I had no trouble getting through. After checking our Learning Management System I discovered the parent had mistyped her phone number in her message requesting a call. Using the phone number from the LMS, I called at the agreed upon time. The call went to voicemail. I left a message, hung up, and laughed out loud.

On the third morning we finally connected. Her tone of voice was pleasant, her demeanor nonconfrontational. But the attack was long and personal. She believes I am better suited to teaching older grades. "All the parents" at "practices" agree that their students are afraid of me, and they refuse to ask me questions because they know I will yell at them. In fact, apparently, I yell all the time. I refuse to give parents and tutors information needed to help their kids at home. Her child cries every day after school because of my class. The days when he doesn't see me (I only teach him one class) are the only ones when he is happy after school. He's relieved on the days he doesn't have to see me. 

None of this is my lived experience with my students. In fact, during the one class I teach in my partner teacher's room, I run around the entire work time, answering questions from kids who raise their hands over and over. I sometimes have to ask those with their hands in the air to be patient while I check on the progress of the kids who aren't raising their hands. The child in question does sometimes ask for help, and I also check on him when he doesn't because I know writing is challenging for him. During remote learning he and I had a regular weekly 1-1 meeting scheduled to discuss writing, and he frequently sent messages asking for additional 1-1 meetings.

I held it together while I was talking on the phone. The parent told me she was going to contact our Learning Resource Center Director and principal and request that her child be removed from my class since I make him so uncomfortable. I know the principal and LRC staff have my back, so I encouraged her to contact them both. I told her I understood her concern and shared it, if her child was crying every day after school.

When the call ended my team, who knew I had been trying to contact this parent for three days, asked how it went. I dissolved into tears. I was still sobbing as the rolling drop off began. I knew the child of one of my co-workers was probably already in my room, but I couldn't stop crying. I went to the bathroom and splashed cold water on my face. It got the sobbing under control, but my eyes were still leaking intermittently, for hours. I couldn't even talk to the first several students who arrived. (I usually cheerfully greet everyone by name as they walk in.) By the time I had to actually start teaching, I was finally breathing easier. The presence of my students had brought me enough joy that I was finally able to regain most of my self control.

Even though I have observable evidence to refute most, if not all, of what this parent accused, even though I know I am good at what I do, even though I know my administration has my back, this interaction hit me like a ton of bricks. 

It's May, the second May during a global pandemic. Parents are stressed, but that's still no excuse. Teachers are stressed too. We are not punching bags. I do expect kids to learn - do work and turn it in. To do work, turn it in, and even do better on this assignment than the last one. Isn't that my job? Of course, it is! And I know I'm good at it. I love it too. But sometimes it's really hard. 

Mean people suck.

May the 4th be With You!

 May 4 is also known as Star Wars Day in certain geeky circles. So I'm wearing my R2D2 dress and the picture above is my opening slide for my presentation for my students. A sampling of the various movie scores from YouTube plays on the click, today's music choice for our "soft start" caused by our rolling drop off that allows everyone to show their Jot Form clearance and have their temperature checked again prior to entering the building. Students trickle in for a full 45 minutes every morning to a study hall atmosphere. I have music playing during this time which helps keep most of my students focused.

The R2D2 dress a few years ago.

So far the week has been calmer than last week. But given that's it's only Tuesday morning, that's not really saying much. I read through my students' Recess Reflections this weekend and forwarded some of the information up the chain of administration. I'm hoping for the best, while continuing to reinforce and reiterate lessons on kindness and becoming the best versions of ourselves.

A few weeks ago I ran across a poem online about the Power of One. 

I used it as a jumping off point for an assignment for my students. It was wrapped into a lesson on nouns, the IB attribute of reflection, a social emotional reminder about growth mindset, and a prayer assignment. We talked about things - nouns - that were important to students and why they were important to them. I created a template for them and some of the results were amazing.

This has been a hard year. It doesn't matter who you are or where you are from, this year has been hard. But there are reasons to smile. Just look to the children in your life. Take some time to really listen to them. They will put a smile on your face if you let them.

May the Fourth be with you.