It was only Tuesday

 When my team convened in my room after school, we all had the same thought, "I can't believe it is only Tuesday!"

Yesterday was a long week....

We walked to Orem Junior High for their musical.  It's about a 25 minute walk.  Twenty-five minutes of keeping everyone walking and on the sidewalk (not the street) and out of peoples' yards and no, you can't throw pinecones.

A police officer helped us cross 800 North on the way to the junior high, but I don't know where he was on the way back.  It was high anxiety.

The play itself was well done.  I loved seeing former Bonneville students and I loved seeing one of my students waving enthusiastically at her older sister.  She was so proud.  I had a little hotbed of trouble and I made two students come and sit by me and every other student in the row move down.  I said no to anyone who needed to use the bathroom unless they asked me multiple times.  If they wanted to go get a drink, it was an automatic no.

One of my students said, while we were trooping down the street, "What if someone thought we were all Teacher's children?"

They were delighted by that idea, but when we are on a field trip like that, it does feel like they are all my children.  It's a lot.

We got back to the school and I felt like a nap, but we had a quick lunch because we returned late and then writing.  One of my students had a full on temper tantrum about writing.  She was very offended that I wasn't helping her enough.  Writing time is every man for himself and they are asking me to spell words and asking me a million questions and clamoring around my desk and I am just trying to survive it.

Almost everyone else finished what they needed for the day and she had her head down on my desk and was crying.  I told her that I was sorry I wasn't able to help her more, but I could help her now.

Well, she was over it.  She said, "Oh, now you want to help me.  Too late!"

I told her she could stay in from recess then.

She was still hopping mad during recess.  I tried to reason with her, but we were past that.  She went to recess and we picked up writing again after recess.  She acted like nothing had even happened and she helped translate for a Spanish speaker and was as pleasant as she could be.

After school Miriam and Alissa and I commiserated about everything. We made sure we were on the same page for testing and we divided the classes for next year.  We put our students into three different 4th grade classes, trying to balance boys/girls, behavior, academics, special ed., English learning.  It's an undertaking.  There's a spot for notes.  My team asked me what I was going to write about my hardest student.  We batted around a few ideas:  good luck, hope you have Advil, they are a puzzle.  In the end I left it blank.  I know whoever the teacher is will come and ask me.  

Words words words

Third grade

 6-7 seems to be on the way out.  Every once in a while it will crop back up.  I don't think that anything as meaningless as 6-7 has much staying power.

Several of my students call me, "Bruh."  It's fine.  A different teacher might make them use more proper names, but I have different battles to fight.

Yesterday a girl asked me how many more minutes until recess.  When I told her, she said, "Slay, Queen," and walked away.

Last year it was all rizz and skibidi.  

Imagine the brain power we could all free up if we didn't have to keep up on all of this....

Adam/Braeden

Adam sent me this:

 Braeden called last night to let us know about a couple of widows when they might come to Utah this summer. I wrote them in a message to you on my iPad but forgot to send it. I’ll do that later today.

 It took me a moment to realize that there was a typo and Adam had meant to type windows, not widows. As in windows Braeden's family was thinking of coming to Utah.

I think my brain stalled because it feels kind of on brand for Braeden to 1) be concerned about widows and 2) offer for them to stay with us.  That kid has a big heart.  (I guess I don't because I'm relieved we won't have boarders for the summer.)

Emma

Emma sent us the most complicated Connections game she had come up with when she was driving home.  Adam and I puzzled over it and finally called her.  She gave us hints and we still struggled.  There's clever and then there's impossible.

Here is her text:

I taught her to talk initially, but that little wordsmith took it from there.

Mark

Mark is my self appointed personal trainer.  When we walk together and I want to turn around, he says no.  He is keeping track on his watch and he wants to keep going.  I said, "But we turned around here yesterday."

He said, "We are getting better though.  We aren't going to stick with yesterday."

And I love that.

I love words.  And my people.

Weekend

 Stress dreams:

We are on the cusp of test time at school.  I recognize that it is my pride undoing my peace, but here I go anyway.  I want them to do well!  (I want people to think I'm a good teacher....) It is a BIG DEAL at our school.  Test scores are talked about.  A lot.

We did a RISE benchmark test on Friday and it did not go well.

So I have had dreams that I was trying to teach one of my children (it wasn't one of my children though, it was a random kid) and he said, "I don't want to learn!  I won't learn!"

Then I pinched him.

(I would like the record to show I've never pinched one of my students, even when they don't want to learn.)

I had another dream that my entire class refused to do anything I asked.  It was lunchtime and they wouldn't get out of their seats and go to lunch.

(That would never, ever happen.  Nothing motivates them like lunchtime.)

I told Adam on Saturday that maybe what I need to do it stop stressing about it.  He just nodded.  I said, "Maybe it makes it worse when they can tell I'm stressed."

Adam just nodded, but I could sense if he were to say what he was thinking it would be something along the lines of, "You think?!?"

So I am going to work on chilling out.  In my repertoire of skills, it doesn't make the list, but there's always hope.

The low bar:

An exciting development in my life is that I am feeling more and more like myself.  I am taking lots of walks as prescribed by my doctor to fight fatigue.  I've found that if I sleep 9 hours on weeknights and 10 hours on weekends, I have more energy.

(The last time I went to get my infusion, the nurse asked me about my fatigue and I said that I felt fine because I'd slept 10 hours the night before.  She said, "I can't remember the last time I slept 10 hours!"  I suggested she get cancer....)

On Saturday morning, Adam and I confronted the pile of blankets that have overtaken our house.  When you get cancer, turns out lots of people give you blankets.  Also, every time Adam turns around WGU seems to give him a blanket.  It is the gift of choice.  We picked the ones we wanted to keep, gave one to Mark and took the rest of them with us when we went to meet Olivia and Liliana at the temple.  After our session, we went to DI with them.  Our intention was to donate the blankets they didn't want.  Lili, who is preparing to move to Boston for the summer, declined.  Olivia took the blankets.  She had plans for the fleece for blankets made in her Relief Society.

This is all to say, it felt great to actually do something productive around here.  I watered my plants.  I did some laundry.  I feel like a person.

The flowers were so pretty at the temple, we posed for a picture.  I look kind of like I was in pain.  I wasn't.

After church and a walk, we had Emma and Lili and Josh over for dinner.  It was so nice to have them.  We love those kids.  We ate and talked about Boston and then played Bohnanza.  Emma sat down at the piano and started playing so we sang together too.

It was a good weekend!

Grateful Friday

 I am grateful I just about survived the week.  It has been fraught with a lot of drama.  Yesterday was a little bit better.  We had a whole class meeting situation that I think/hope helped.

I am grateful that when it was cold and windy, Murph, who is the aide we all love, walked outside and said, "I am sure you have things to do.  I'll do recess duty."

Seriously, it is no wonder we all love her.

I am grateful for the empowering feeling I get from leadership meeting. I love seeing little glimpses of, "We could do better!  This is in our grasp!"

I am grateful when kids try.  Yesterday I had a gaggle of students who gathered around my desk during math to have me read the word problems to them.  They invariably get on different problems and they get impatient because they want me at their immediate beck and call.  A few of them gave up and read the problems themselves.  I should let them struggle more often, because they can do it!

I am grateful that even though winter seems to have returned, I have a warm house and a new roof and so many comforts.

I am grateful that sweet Hannah texted me yesterday because she knew it was a month since my mom passed away.

I am grateful my dad texted us a picture of a stunning bit he just finished making.

I am grateful we have each other.

Drama llamas

 I confiscate many paper airplanes every day.  They recently learned how to fold them.  Knowledge is power....

I found this one on my desk:

They excel at being maddening, but are just sweet enough that I love them all the same.

I don't love all the drama we've had.  I have a few students with very real trauma who struggle to cope.  I have other students who love the drama and love to stir the pot and make things worse.

We were mystified after recess.  Miriam had been out there and had kept an eagle eye on the trouble spots.  I still had two disregulated children who cried for 45 minutes after recess.  (Who is jealous of me?)

Katie, the school counselor, and I tried to figure it out.  After school, we went to the office and watched footage from the outside cameras.  Camie was helping us.  What we saw was a whole bunch of drama seekers running back and forth, drumming up hysteria.  The two students who are not supposed to be by each other, were not by each other, but it was still a hotbed of trouble.

I was googling for ideas for lessons on minding your own business in third grade.  There are awesome teachers in the world who share their ideas on everything you can google.

I scanned the list of websites and there were alternative search queries.  One of them was, what's the number one reason teachers quit?

It made me laugh out loud.  I told Miriam and she said, "That's not the number one reason."

She never told me what she thought the number one reason was and I didn't click on the question.  I don't know what it is, but I know that days like yesterday wear me down like I'm shale and they are a mighty river. 

Again with the murmuring

 I've been reading in Exodus about the children of Israel and their murmuring.  When I was younger, I thought, "Those children of Israel.  They can't get it right.  They keep getting saved and they still murmur."

Now, I see myself.

When I can't see around every dark corner, I think, "Well, this is it.  I'm in trouble now...."

And just like the children of Israel, I keep getting help.  It isn't always how I expect.  It wasn't always how they expected.  Manna?  (Adam compared it to Dippin' Dots and I like that.) No one was expecting manna, yet there it was.

Every day.

Thinking about this has caused me to think about God observing our whining, our ill-founded panic, our murmuring.

Does he feel about it like we feel about a beloved baby, who cries for food even though they get food every time they cry?  We don't fault the baby for crying.

Does he feel about it like we feel about a petulant toddler? It's tiresome, but part of the package.

Does he feel about it like we feel about a morose and complaining teenager, who you'd just as soon go away for a while?

My guess is just like we expect more of children as they grow, He expects more of us over time.

This all makes me feel like I need to get it together!

Welcome back

 You know those videos of a soldier returning where their families clamor around them, hugging them?  That was basically the scene at school yesterday morning.  My students acted like they hadn't seen me for years.  I knew it wouldn't last.

Sure enough, by math, they were scowling at me.

Someone drew a heart on the pavement outside my door and wrote Dais in it.  Of course, then the other students had to point out they'd spelled my name wrong.

"There's no 'v'," twenty students informed me.

Yes, I know.

The student I had said hi to at Winco on Saturday told me that he had seen me at Winco on Saturday.

Yes, I know.  

I broke my ID badge and a secretary ordered me a new on.  I asked how I was going to get in this morning and they told me that I guess I can just stay home....

I will just hope someone gets there the same time as me or I guess I'll be waiting outside a while.

A student threw up in the garbage can.

We celebrated two birthdays.

A girl was shivering at recess and Alissa asked her why she was wearing shorts.  She said, "It's about the outfit."

Alissa said, "But it's cold."

My student said, "Beauty is pain."

(She has a teenage sister and it shows.)

I had a Big Meeting with a parent and therapists and lots of school personnel.  It lasted 85 minutes.  Not that I was keeping track....

I was letting my students in after afternoon recess and I noticed six big sixth graders surrounding one of my students.  I left no one in charge of the rest of my class and hightailed it across the playground.  Some of the boys were bigger than me, but I also had some of them as 3rd graders, which removes any intimidation factor of big boys, so I sent them packing and pulled my student back to the classroom.

The difference between yesterday and a week ago when I sitting in the sunshine by a pool is...vast.