Time Warp Year

My sense of time is so warped. When I try to remember when, within the past year, something happened, I usually can't. All I can say for sure is that it was after the pandemic shut down my school last spring. Whether it's talking to the vet about my dog's injury, or my doctor about when I had my two COVID tests because I was experiencing symptoms (both came back negative) I just am not sure when things happened. In my head it's still January. Really. It takes me by surprise, daily, that we are already at the end of April.

This distorted sense of time is my new reality. Days, weeks, and months feel like they are crawling at a snail's pace while simultaneously feeling like they're flying by. I don't know how that's possible, but it is. This school year has been going on FOREVER. But how is it possible that we are already talking about our final units of the school year? On Tuesday I feel like the previous weekend was in the distant past and don't know how I'll make it to the end of the week. But on Wednesday I'm grateful that the week feels almost over. The latter is due at least in part to my school's asynchronous Friday schedule that allows me to sleep in and work from home. After a half hour homeroom zoom on Fridays, I spend the rest of the day in meetings with my partner teacher, my grade band's writing teachers, and the IB coordinator while fielding student questions in Google Hangouts, planning for the following week, and trying to catch up on grading. 

We finally took school pictures this week. But due to COVID protocols, we did not do a formal class picture, just individual ones. I had a few parents email me, lamenting the lack of a class photo to commemorate this crazy year. So after recess one day, I spaced us all out on the stairs leading to the "big field" and had the recess supervisor take our picture.

My students pray daily for a cure for COVID, for a vaccine for kids, for everyone who is sick, for an end to wearing masks. I do my best to keep it all light hearted, but when I see students playing with their masks or pulling them down, I will stop class and direct them to wear their mask properly and use hand sanitizer. Students need to use hand sanitizer before entering the classroom EVERY time. After recess I run around telling students, "It's SLIME time!" Even after hearing this for months, I still get a giggle or two every time. Although the students need constant reminders about our protocols, they are working. After four months of in person learning we have not had an outbreak in the building.

By and large the kids are done with the subjects that don't hold their interest. Their effort is waning. I have at least two students who suffer from extreme lack of focus after lunch every day. They are no longer capable of doing their best work for the subjects taught in the afternoons. The beautiful weather makes wearing masks more uncomfortable and serves as a reminder to the kids that it's almost summer. Their version of almost doesn't match my own, and not just because in my head it's still January. We are planning our final units of the school year, but we haven't started teaching them yet. We have seven weeks left where we are. It's going to be a long spring.

Spring Classroom Silliness

 Art by mamasachacreative

There really never is a dull moment in my classroom. I do generally strive to be the biggest distraction in the room - singing, dancing, standing on furniture, waving my arms wildly, sinking to the floor in mock despair...

I already shared a post regarding the phrase my husband has adopted and my own kids roll their eyes when they hear, "I didn't eat it." But I also have taken tried and true memory phrases and put my own personal spin on them. You probably know the standard Please Excuse My Dear Aunt Sally to remember the order of operations (parenthesis, exponents, multiplication, division, addition, subtraction). I didn't alter this one too much - but enough to keep it memorable. I always say, "Please Excuse My Dear Aunt Shirley." When kids correct me, I say, "I don't have an Aunt Sally. I have an Aunt Shirley."

Today my students reminded me of another mathematical memory phrase that I made my own. Most kids come to me knowing they can remember the long division steps with the phrase "Dirty Monkeys Smell Bad." But I like to say, "Dead Monkeys Smell Crazy Bad." I put a lot of dramatic emphasis on "crazy" which stands for check or compare. I want students to get in the habit of checking to make sure the answer to their subtraction problem is smaller than the divisor before they bring down the next number. Apparently it worked with this current group of kids. When I told them we were reviewing long division today I heard several kids say to themselves or each other "Dead Monkeys Smell CRAZY Bad!"  Then they kept shouting at each other to "check!" or "compare!" if students tried to tell me the next step was to bring down the next number before saying out loud that the difference was smaller than the divisor.

I suppose all of this explains why my students seem shocked when I mention my kid in college or that I've been teaching for over 20 years. Twenty years is more than double the number of years lived by my fourth graders, but I tell them all the time I'm a crazy old lady. So when they express surprise at my age, ("You're older than my mom!") I always respond with, "I keep telling you, I'm an old lady!" Yesterday I had a student respond with, "But you don't look or act old!"

That same student was involved in a playground altercation that resulted in mutual punching today. As disappointing as the incident was, the student in question did show significant growth in his reflection after the fact. He was able to articulate how he had shown self-restraint and then readily admitted where he let his "temper do the talking."

This week marks the middle of our third trimester. Parents will be asked to check their child(ren)'s progress using the online gradebook. Last Friday I had a student email me asking about missing and incomplete assignments. I cc'd her mom on my response telling her she could complete the incomplete assignments if she could locate them, or I would be happy to email her what she needed to do them again. She hit "reply all" and included her mother on her response that made me literally laugh out loud.

This student took initiative... up to a certain point. I do a lot of teaching about growth mindset. Even though these kids (who only recently could finally claim a decade of life on this earth) still have room to grow, they are clearly growing and becoming better versions of themselves.

Spring Break Eve

Today was our last in-person day before spring break. My students have been back in the building since January 25, but we have continued with asynchronous Fridays to allow for common planning time and to reduce the overall demands on teachers who have students still attending remotely while the majority of their classmates are in the building.

Each staff member was greeted with a box of Easter goodies this morning. The principal's office was decorated with pineapples, coconuts, and a bottle of champagne. He was also given a couple of fresh leis and a palm tree facemask, all of which he wore proudly all day. The feeling of love and community that was rekindled with our first in-person staff meet up of the year (in the form of a prayer service in the church in place of our regular Tuesday staff meeting) flourished in the hallways today, even on the eve of spring break. The delicious scent of fresh plumeria wafting along behind my boss certainly helped.

Usually Holy Week in a Catholic School means at least two all-school services: a foot washing service on Holy Thursday and some form of Stations of the Cross on Good Friday. Since we are not gathering as an entire school this year, and not even on site tomorrow, the eighth graders stood in pairs around the track on the upper field to present a physically distanced walk through the Stations of the Cross. Classes were given start times at five minute intervals to walk the path listening to a reflective retelling of the fourteen stations. The weather cooperated and my students were very respectful, even when we caught up to the preschool class in front of us (moving the littles from station to station was far more time consuming than moving my fourth grade class) and had to wait after the eighth graders were done at the last several stations before walking to the next pair of presenters.

Even though there were many amazing things about this week, it was also one of those weeks that feels like it has been going on for months. On Tuesday I remember thinking the day already felt like it was at least three weeks long before lunch. Not only were there schedule deviations, the weather was beautiful and spring break was on the horizon. Student attention was at an all time low. I had students talking throughout instruction and work time every day. Many students increased the frequency of their trips to the bathroom. More than the usual number of students had no idea what to do after instructions had been given and were still visible on the Smart Board. One particularly squirrely student literally fell on the floor, either from out of his chair or from standing near it, at least five times in one day.

I love my job. I have set up a nifty little corner in my classroom complete with a fun, super clicky keyboard that makes me excited to type. There were several amazing moments throughout the week. But I am certainly ready for a little break from it all.

Report Cards, Accreditation, Conferences, Oh My!

 Today is the midpoint in the long anticipated week that includes report cards, a visiting team observing and writing a report recommending a term of accreditation, and spring student led conferences. 

Report cards were originally slated to be sent home today, but due to the other two factors, they will be sent home on Monday. They are on their third draft, sent out as PDFs for the teachers to read through and make edits. They are finally ready to be stored and printed as soon as everyone re-reads them and makes final edits. I caught a missing conjunction in ALL of my science comments tonight, so the third edit was certainly worth my while. 

The accreditation visiting committee came virtually this go round, literally touring the school and meeting with different groups via Zoom, as thumbnail videos on screens carried around on laptops by the school's administration. The visitors were a part of our building Monday through Wednesday, and met with the entire school staff Tuesday afternoon and again today. They made a beautiful slide presentation of their visit to begin today's meeting. They had taken screen shots of many of their interactions and set the photos to a song for our opening prayer. It brought tears to my eyes. All of the amazing things we do at my school were seen and praised. The process validated my decision to endure the commute and come back to the building with the best principal I have ever had the privilege of calling my boss.

Conferences begin tomorrow. Students spent some of this week preparing to lead their conferences by filling in a slide show I created for them. Those who take the process seriously will have thoroughly reflected on their first two trimesters and set goals for the final third of their fourth grade school year. They will be ready to present this information to me and their parents over the next two days. For some students the conference will be an opportunity for me and their parents to ask questions and explore these ideas to help them reflect and set goals.

Halfway through the week, I am exhausted. But it's a good kind of tired. I really liked visiting with the accreditation team and reaffirming all the good work that happens at my school. It's nice to have a format that requires me to remember why I do what I do. The prayer from today's meeting reverberated with the idea that teaching in a Catholic school is not a job, it's a ministry.

The next two days will be tiring in their own right. I won't have to commute to the school building; since we still can't allow parents into the building spring conferences will be held via Zoom. I'll be holding them from the home set up in my bedroom that came into being during remote teaching.

It's a good thing I love this kind of thing. Reflection and growth are the goals of all three of the processes at work this week. The school will become a better version of itself as a result of accreditation. My students will become better versions of themselves as a result of conferencing. I will become a better version of my teacher self through writing report cards and reflecting on student growth from the start of the year. I have always loved knowing and feeling growth is happening in my life. This is an exhausting week, but a good one. It's also a good thing that the sun is making an appearance more and more often these days.

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?