spc: hung up

this weeks self-portrait shows
how i have been feeling:
on display.

testing, and the preparation to get there,
stresses a teacher out.
our test scores are published
in the local paper and
available on the internet for all to see
and compared to other state schools.
these numbers threaten the future of our school;
threaten my career.

my school only has one third grade class.
my shorties' scores are not combined
with any other class.
we are solo.
we are on our own.

however, our scores don't show
how well my children can write haikus
and work out a math problem with a partner.
the test doesn't measure how late a child had
to stay up to take care of a very sick grandmother/guardian.
they don't care if a cousin or father or mother
was shot as they walked to their car the day before.
the numbers don't show the fatigue of a child
who has no bedtime, or no bed for that matter.

the shorties are timed, stressed out and under pressure.
i don't know about you,
but when i am under pressure and have a deadline
i talk to my friends and colleagues to help me.
i bounce ideas off of others so that i can
think clearly and rationally.

state testing need to be re-thought.
education, as an institution, needs to remember
that it is about the children,
period,
instead of always trying to make the grownups look good.

shame on the tall-ees.


for this weeks online-enhancement, i used the cool dumpr site.
check out more groovy mugs here at the
self portrait challenge site.

peace of mind

sunday.
time for deep breathing and silence.
coffee with chocolate soy milk
and extra snuggle time with my man
while kitties tumble around at our feet.

state-testing is over
and tomorrow starts a new week.
a week without crying in
my principal's office,
"i just can't do it."
i sobbed, "i need someone to take them for
an hour. i need to be away from them."

a week where i practice my ever-dwindling patience.
we'll take a spring walk and plant seeds.
we'll dye eggs in honor of easter and
the blooming of our environment.
we'll continue our quest for classroom peace.
not friendship. just peace.
friendship takes time.
but peace. citizenship. the art of being cordial.
that is my goal.

ok.
i am lying.
i want my shorties to love each other.
i want them to work together and share their thinking.
i want them to greet each other with hugs and kind words,
not sneakiness, undermining and full-on-hating.
i want them to feel it in their hearts, not just say what they think i want to hear.

i want them to be my old class.
there. i said it.

but if i say it out loud, i will cry again.

so i will stick with the simple goal of just peace.
even if it isn't in their hearts.

for now.

trust me. i will not settle.

spc: kickin' up a storm

it happens at night when
i am trying to fall asleep
and i can't stop
giggling.
i can feel bumping
and light tap-a-tap-tapping
on my hip bone.

i wake up in the morning
and am shocked at the
size and roundness of my belly
as i walk past the mirror.

22 weeks pregnant.
and i am loving every
moment of it.

for this weeks self-portrait challenge, i used a combination of
scribbler and captioner by flickr toyz.
check out more online enhanced self-portraits here at the
self portrait challenge site.

walkin' the walk

"aren't we a family?
and aren't families s'posed to
be nice to each other?"
said my most emotional shortie,
to his classmates,
after a really rough afternoon.

i keep telling them
that they are good at
talkin' the talk
but i want more walkin'.
"you are the masters of your destiny,"
i say to them slowly.

they can say the words:

"if we can take care of each other
then we can have a
peaceful classroom community."

"i know i had a bad day ms. k.,
but i promise i will never be
disrespectful to you or the class again."

now. if they can just start doing it.

my old shorties (now in 5th - 7th grades)
offer to come and talk to my current
third graders about how to be peaceful.
i am going to take them up on it.
because, for some reason
this class just isn't getting it.

i am exhausted after the first hour of the day.
i try to stay positive.
i light candles and play the sounds of the ocean.
i write my morning message,
filling my heart with hope that maybe,
just maybe,
today will be different.
and then, i pick them up downstairs.

i am greeted with:
"she said that i look ugly today!"
"yeah...well she told everyone my mother used to
beat me when i was in kindergarten."
"shane is crying because walter was teasing
him about having no lunch money and now
shane has to eat peanut butter and jelly."
"lynette kicked me. yes. she meant it!"

when i get to the room, i fill out
two referrals to the office,
one nurse slip,
and give shane money for lunch.

taking a deep breath,
my hope is gone.
this is every morning in my classroom.
and i just can't shake it.

what is wrong?
where is the comraderie?
have i lost my touch?
will they ever understand that
peacefulness will get them everywhere?

sigh.
tomorrow starts a new week.
hopehopehopehopehope.

we are the masters of our destiny.


(baby brown, one of my old shorties, visiting me after school)

boy oh boy!

mmm hmmm.
yup.
we're having a boy!

i squinted and looked at the screen
where the technician was pointing
and saw "it".
(i dare not say scrotum or else
my blog may be banned across the country)

so, through bites of my tri-hourly snacks,
my quest to find the coolest cowboy boots
in little cutie-pahtootie sizes begins.

i am submitting this self-portrait for this month's self-portrait challenge.
my cheeks are full of juicy plum as i try to get
my daily amount of good nutrition.
surf through more online enhanced self-portraits here at the
self portrait challenge site.

'tis but a number...

i swiped the following
story from jill.
(this is a variation on a story originally
told by poet, taylor mali)

this was motivating for me,
a teacher, in the middle
of winter, waiting
for spring as the shorties
hit the wall two weeks before
state testing.


WHAT DO TEACHERS MAKE?

The dinner guests were sitting around the table discussing life.

One man, a CEO, decided to explain the problem with education.
He argued, "What's a kid going to learn from someone who decided
his best option in life was to become a teacher?”

He reminded the other dinner guests
what they say about teachers:
"Those who can, do. Those who can't, teach."

To stress his point he said to another guest,
"You're a teacher. Be honest. What do you make?”
The teacher replied, "You want to know what I make?
She paused for a second, then began ...

"Well, I make kids work harder than they ever thought they could.

I make a C+ feel like the Congressional Medal of Honor.

I make kids sit through 40 minutes of class time
when their parents can't make them sit for 5
without an iPod, Game Cube or movie rental.
You want to know what I make?"

She paused again and looked at each and every person at the table.

"I make kids wonder.

I make them question.

I make them criticize.

I make them apologize and mean it.

I make them have respect and take responsibility for their actions.

I teach them to write and then I make them write.

I make them read, read, read.

I make my students from other countries
learn everything they need to know in English while
preserving their unique cultural identity.

I make my classroom a place where all my students feel safe.

Finally, I make them understand that if they use the gifts
they were given, work hard, and follow their hearts,
they can succeed in life."

The teacher paused one last time and then continued...

"Then, when people try to judge me by what I make,
I can hold my head up high and pay no attention because
they are ignorant. You want to know what I make?
I MAKE A DIFFERENCE.

What do you make?"