Summer Reading

My Fed Ex delivery guy goes to our church.  What are the chances of that?  We go to church 20 minutes away in the community where I was raised.    Bernie is a mountain of a man.  He has willingly played the part of the giant in several children’s productions at church.  I fondly recall the Saturday; the long waited third Harry Potter book was delivered.  It was a summer day and the whole family was in the yard.  As Bernie pulled up our teen aged son went running to grab the package.  Holding the box above his head, Bernie laughingly said, “sorry, this isn’t addressed to you Brad.” “I have to give it to the addressee.”  He walked up the drive and over to me as Brad continued to jump and miss the package.

 I do a lot of professional reading in the summer.  Most years I read 10 or more books for work.  I’m switching grade levels this year.  I am rereading some books I own, looking with a 3^rd grade focus, not Young 5’s.  In the past two weeks I’ve bought and read The Writing Thief, Culham, I’m almost done with Read Write Teach, Reif and I’ve been flipping through Chart Sense by Linder.  I’ve got 3 more books, on order.  As I decide I want to read a book I tend to immediately place the order. We live 45 minutes away from the closest book store so I use Amazon often.  I’ve done that 3 times in the past days.  I’m fortunate to have Amazon Prime, so my scattered shopping habits don’t cost me extra shipping charges. 

Last week, as my husband and I walked into church Bernie said to Wayne, “I’ve left a few packages at your house lately.”  Wayne shrugged and muttered, “I never know what’s she’s buying.”  That is true, especially at Christmas time, but in my defense he doesn’t mind my reading or purchasing habits.  I jokingly turned to Bernie and told him we needed to review the purchasing confidentiality rules.

This morning’s task is to make a list of the mentor texts Culham suggested.  I’m planning on checking which books I have in my library at school.  Yes, you’d think I’d know what I already own, but several of the titles may have looked familiar because I’d bought and shipped them to my grand-kids!   Bernie doesn’t deliver those.  Whew! 

This afternoon’s task will be to check the list against inventory and then—place another Amazon order.

It’s a good thing I’ve finished paying for our kid’s college educations, this summer’s reading might rival a tuition bill.  I’m thinking I may need to avoid Bernie in the next few weeks.

            My Fed Ex driver goes to my church.  I should get off the computer and go get dressed before Bernie knows WAY too much about me.

Love

As a young girl in the sixties I read Nancy Drew and Hardy Boys books.  I dreamed of solving cases.  I read biographies and dreamed of new inventions, thought about what made a person into a powerful leader.  I also read the Cherry Ames student nurse books.  I never once dreamed of being a nurse.  I have a notoriously weak stomach.  As I helped my mother around the house and saw some of the chores she dealt with without a shutter I wasn’t even sure I could handle being a mother.  

As a teacher I’ve solved my share of mysteries and crimes and I often lead a mighty band of ruffians down the hall, but I still possess a queasy stomach.  I’ve passed out looking at my own bruised leg.  I lay down to have my blood drawn and I always close my eyes before a syringe comes near me. 

As a daughter in law of an elderly frail woman I’m finally learning that love can overcome revolting sights.  My own children began to teach me this lesson.  They were helpless and needy and my love overcame.  When our son Brad broke his arm, I never looked at the injury, just in his eyes as we waited for the ambulance to arrive.  When my husband shattered his ankle I confess I had to put my head between my knees, and that second ambulance attendant was kind enough to take my pulse, but I should get credit for staying conscious and later for beating the ambulance to the hospital.

I’ll spare you the details of my day, but I believe I acted in love and concern and hid how uncomfortable spending the day in nurse’s aide role made me.  I hope my love has shown through. 

I hope her daughter, the family nurse, has the day off tomorrow!

Ten Things

Ten things I’ve enjoyed on my first day of vacation

1.      The first watermelon of the summer.

2.      Going to the doctor and not needing to write sub plans the night before.

3.      Ordering 3 professional books and knowing I’ll have time to read them right away.

4.      Anticipating Friday’s full moon without worrying about behaviors.

5.      A clean house!  OK, change that to cleaner.

6.      Waking up at my usual time and falling back to sleep.

7.      Drinking liquid anytime I want!

8.      Bed sheets hung out on the clothes line.

9.      Freshly mowed grass.

Anticipation of my first in person celebration of our granddaughter Lucy’s fourth birthday, Texas was a long way away

Changes

It’s not easy to be a teacher in Michigan.  Budget cuts and educational priorities have repeatedly blasted the teaching profession. New laws have changed what our contracts can provide.   I was hired just before the turmoil started.  I’ve been a library media specialist, a third grade teacher, laid off for a year, a long term sub in the High School, and then a kindergarten teacher, assigned to split my week between two building.  I also taught sections of Young 5’s and Kindergarten the same year.  Finally 2 years ago I was assigned a full time Young 5’s position.   I actually spent the past 4 years in the same room.    Since I entered the profession in my forties I plan to retire in the primary grades. 

That was yesterday.

Yesterday morning I arrived at work, returning from a week long business trip with my husband.  As we stood chatting in the hall I sensed awkwardness.  Finally someone told me, our incoming group’s enrollment number was drastically lower than expected.  My position has been eliminated.  I still have a teaching job, but in what building, or grade level has not been determined. 

I’m heartbroken.  I have worked so hard to be the best I can be for my high poverty students.  I’ve spent countless hours learning the needs and development of five year-olds.  Two years ago I successfully committed myself to improving my writing instruction.  Last summer I devoted myself to improving my math instruction.  I read many books and applied what I’d read to my instruction.  I can prove it!  Look at my cloth ten frames, for acting out building numbers!  See the class set of rekenreks I wrote a grant to buy those!  Watch our morning routine, my kids really get decomposition of numbers and love all things mathematical!

Look at those 350 books I purchased with my own money so my students could have high quality books for at home reading! I want my students to love books, so I have glossy high color books.  My kids may be poor but they deserve the best.   I’ve bought many pricy learning games and toys for my deprived students.  Dang, I even have two new items for free exploration time that I haven’t even had time to unpack and bring into my classroom.

My small district has 4 young 5’s teachers and 8 kindergarten teachers, and all but one have been placed or hired in the grade level after me.  I’ve mentored, shared and written curriculum.  Yet by the decision of a newly hired district administrator, my school has positions eliminated, resulting in me being displaced.  I love all the people I work with in primary, and would hate to see any of the lose their spot, but right now I’m grieving my hard work and the fruit I hoped to continue to see from my efforts.

Now what?  There is a 5^th grade position in my building, with a close staff I hate to leave.  But 5^th grade is a world away from Young 5’s and I’m not sure I can do it justice.  Or is that just grief talking?  I could move buildings to 2^nd or 3rd  grade position .  I keep hoping this is all a mistake, but as I recall denial is a part of grieving.  As I look around my classroom I realize my guestroom is going to need some new shelving!  My grandchildren are going to have some amazing toys to play with at Grandma and Grandpa’s house.  Don’t even ask how many books they will need to listen to each time they visit. 

Frozen

I don’t often see movies. It was good luck that I happened to see the movie Frozen at a friend’s house.   Many of my Young 5’s students own it and I’m glad I have an understanding of their love for all things Frozen.

A couple of days ago “Nicole” wrote in her journal that she had the movie Frozen and loved it.  She went on to tell that the movie was gone and she really missed it.  I think her mom had rented the movie and it had been returned.  Later in her writing she commented even though the movie was lost “that song is still stuck in my head.” I was scribing for her and I asked which song she still remembered.  She replied, “Let it Doh.”  I must have looked puzzled, I was unsure, I’ve only seen the DVD once.  To help me out she began to sing and I recognized the song, “Let it Go”.  She gets speech services but she still doesn’t have her ‘g” sound. 

In typical fashion I encouraged her to add more details and to color her picture.  I moved on to scribe for more students.  During playtime I recalled Nicole’s writing.  I used my  iPad and went to the iTunes store.  The song was available for 69 cents.  I bought it and plugged into the sound system in my classroom.  The delight on Nicole’s face as she heard that ‘song in her head’ come out of the speaker was worth far more than 69 cents.  As the song finished playing she asked if I’d play it again.  I put the song on repeat and she stood in front of the speaker belting out ‘Let it Doh, Let it Doh.’  She was joined by several friends and they all sang “Let it Go” together, soon Expo markers became their microphones.  By the fourth performance they were choreographing their arm and head movements

Yesterday’s story in her journal was about spending playtime singing her favorite song.  This morning Nicole came in the classroom she handed me a picture and writing.  I asked her to read it to me.  She pointed and read Teacher and Elsa.  As I looked closely she pointed to the picture of me and of Elsa, the character in Frozen.  She went on to say that she now wanted her name to be Elsa.  I’m not sure of the proper way to handle a child wanting to be called a new name, but I really didn’t want to go there.  I quickly pointed to her desk name tag, her cubbie and even her writing journal.  “I’m sorry, Nicole,” I said.  “Your real name is written on too many important things to change it.”  She looked me in the eye and said with a dejected sigh,  “O. Day.!”