our community...

Recently I was talking with my brother about coming to visit my classroom. He tries to visit at least once per year and gets a kick out of meeting the six year olds (they often have lovely questions for him).

He said, “Let me know when a good time is and I’ll try to figure it out.”

My response was, “Well, any time would be good to visit, really”

Which is actually true. But it got me thinking: why is any time a good time, now? The more I thought about it, I realized it’s because we have our routines and procedures set up, the kids know what they’re doing, they know what the expectations are, they’re learning how to keep learning and working during each learning period and are practicing it each day, even if they don’t quite have it down pat yet. It’s because we now know how to take better care of each other, how to take out all of our tools and put them away carefully, how to make connections, how to handle conflict in a (mostly) respectful way. We know how to laugh together now, and we do it quite often.

We’re now a community.

It’s very different than where we start at the beginning of the year: a group of individuals with a lot of excitement, apprehension, and curiosity.

This isn’t a journey that has an end point. We’re not going to get there, per se, because that would mean that we wouldn’t have any more growing or learning to do. Throughout the year we have new things to navigate, obstacles that throw us off course, times when we need to step back, re-center ourselves, and get back on track.

I think when I told my brother that anytime would be a good time to visit it’s because I have confidence in the strength of that very community relationship, that I can help guide us – when needed – through new and different things, and trust that while it won’t be perfect, it might not even be good at that moment. But it will be real. And it will make us stronger.

This year has really made me reflect on the importance of the first six weeks of school (and how hard they are), but also on how those weeks are the building blocks that get us to the point of -- well, not relaxation, because with the ever-increasing standards for learning, there’s always more being added to our plates -- but to the point of confidence in the children.

Which is a wonderful place to be.

what else can I say...

Reason #8764658977 why I love my class:

I'm trying to do less. More spefically, I'm trying to do less with my left arm. It is so easy for me to carry piles of paper, pick up baskets of color tiles, and continue just doing everything in the classroom by myself (believe me, there is always plenty to be done!). Except, as you may remember, I have a broken arm. So, I really shouldn't be doing all those things. The doctor told me not to. My husband keeps telling me not to. Everyone keeps telling me not to.

It's so hard to keep asking for help, over and over and over again.

And while I'm significantly older than I was when I was in school and really good at doing everything my teacher told me, I am (mostly) capable of learning new things. I think.

I'm trying.

Last week I told my class that I had a goal: I was trying not to use my broken arm, even though I wanted to. It wasn't good for helping it heal, and I didn't want to hurt it again. I asked them if they could help me remember my goal if they saw me forgetting.

Later on that day, as we were modeling a project, I remembered my goal and kept asking various students to help cutting out different things for the project. Of course, I hadn’t realized how much there was – I should have had more of it prepared. After asking the third or fourth child to help cut something out, and feeling totally exasperated with myself, I burst out, “I’m so sorry you guys. I shouldn’t be asking you all to do all this cutting; this is not your job.”

Well.

There was this absolutely genuine outpouring of support from them: “We don’t mind!” “Of course it’s our job!” Miz F – you have a broken arm!”

It was as though they were all showing me, “Dude. We’ve got this one.”

I looked at all of them, sort of overwhelmed and didn’t really know what to say. And really, what else is there to say in a situation like that other than thank you?

So I did. ♥

thanksgiving

It's the tail end of Thanksgiving here in my house; we hosted sixteen people this year. Some have gone home, some are sleeping here, but we were all well fed, well conversed, and rather sated. Whenever I spend time with my family I'm always thankful for them, even the idiosyncrasies and odd uniqueness of us all.

Similarly, I find myself quite thankful for the internet and blogging... this ability to write about oneself, one's thoughts or struggles or successes... to find others out there with similar interests, with similar goals... to learn about each other... to learn from each other.

It's rather amazing when I think about it.

So, tonight, on this late hour of Thanksgiving, I'm thankful for the connections I've made here online, for the opportunity to both talk about teaching and read what others have to say. Have a wonderful night. ♥

our final morning message

This was the last Morning Message I wrote to my students. Instead of posting it on the easel, I included it in our First Grade Memory Book of which they all received copies. We read it together at the end of Morning Meeting and then we all looked at each other quietly for a moment or two.

Part of me wants to write about the moments afterward, while another part of me knows that I could never put it into words. They all know. So, here it is (names are edited out), our final Morning Message of First Grade ~


Dear Friends,

Today is Friday, June 13, 2008. We will go outside to watch the kickball game and go to the Talent Show!

This is the last Morning Message that I will write to you as First Graders. I have been thinking a lot about what I wanted to say on our last day of school. You may remember when I told you this before: that our community is special because of all of us. It's not just one teacher, or one kid, or two kids. It's everyone. It's the way each person shows empathy toward each other, the way we take responsibility for our own learning and for making everyone in our class feel important.

We are important.

We are important because of all of you. Remember that. On days that you feel upset or lonely or worried or angry, remember that you are so important. Remember what we learned together this year:

All our vowels are in blue -- a, e, i, o, u / Hidden Pond / Benjamin Franklin / buyers and sellers / north, east, south, west / doubles / Columbus Day / evergreen and deciduous trees / Chicken Soup with Rice / roots, stems, leaves, and seeds / beginning, middle and end / using exciting words / punctuation / The Chicken Dance / ways to make 10 (8+2 and more!) / Raise the Roof / Reston Zoo / Field Day / the Bald Eagle / Family Night

Remember [our names]. Remember [our names].

You have all learned so much this year and I am so proud of you. Please come and visit next year. I will miss you.

With so much love,
Ms. L

Now that the school year is over, I keep finding half-written posts that I wanted to put here. Over the next few weeks, I'll pull them back out and try to edit them into readable format and put them here for my own reference.

Apparently my thoughts about teaching never seem to wane. ♥