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.