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.

Playground Drama

This was a tough week for my students. I kept thinking, "It's not even May yet!" But after our Second Step Committee for Children lessons on preventing bullying, I had a student report that kids were making alliances during Four Square games to target specific individuals to "get out" as quickly as possible. It fit the definition of bullying presented in our curriculum to a T:

Bullying is aggressive behavior that is:

• usually repeated over time
• occurs when there is a power imbalance
• intended to cause harm/distress OR has a serious harmful/distressing impact

It was great that the lessons made an impact and that I had a student who felt comfortable reporting the problem to me. I alerted the recess staff, and in this COVID year, the principal has been a primary recess supervisor. He came into my room the following morning and attempted to bring down the hammer. He labeled the making of alliances and targeting kids as bullying after he got everyone to agree that the behavior was bad. He said that it had to stop, and if it did not the bullies would be invited to finish the school year learning from home. (Although my school is still offering a remote learning option for families, none of my students are currently using that option.)

First recess, which is only 15 minutes long, ran smoothly. Students reported that it was "weird" because "there were no fights." The student who made the initial report journaled about feeling a sense of relief. But, at the end of lunch recess, as the kids were lining up to have their hands sprayed with hand sanitizer, my principal pulled me aside to say, "Mrs. Conrow, I have shut down Four Square for the rest of the week for your class."

Since I was not outside when Four Square got shut down I had no way of knowing whether specific students would receive further consequences. I was not made aware of any, so I kept my response at the whole class level. We had discussions connecting our current class situation to the Second Step lessons about bystanders. The idea that bystanders who do nothing are part of the problem clearly hit some of my students like a ton of bricks. They looked like deer in headlights as they processed the fact that they could be named as contributors to bullying. 

    

    I wrote an email to parents informing them of the Four Square hiatus and the reasons behind it. In the email I added a list of questions for families to use in a discussion with their fourth graders about the bullying behavior. Then today, during asynchronous learning time, my students had an assignment to fill out a ten question Recess Reflection about the whole thing.

    On top of all of this, the first spring rumors of student crushes began to circulate on the playground this week. I was mildly surprised that this spring fixture of schools went down to the fourth grade level, but I had seen it in fifth grade, so it wasn't totally shocking. One of the recess supervisors had a chat about gossip with a few of my girls who are not Four Square players. I think one of my students had the takeaway that she could be seen as a "mean girl" by others. 

Given that our IB attribute for the month of April is reflective, my students had a lot to think about for our regular month end reflection assignments. I hope it wasn't too much for them. Reflecting on circumstances and past actions in order to improve was a constant message this past week. But rather than theoretical situations, most of my students were living through circumstances that could have easily been scenarios in our social emotional lessons. I found myself reminding them that even though it's been a frustrating week, they are all still wonderful individuals, that have all put a smile on my face more than once this year.

Here's to hoping that next week, when Four Square is reinstated, my students will make better choices based on all of the reflecting they were required to do this week. May is going to be a long month if we have to continue discussions and reflections about recess behavior.

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.