Something I wrote before Christmas but never posted...

Tomorrow is the end of the semester.
Time to celebrate! Reading successes and math advances and the simple fact that we’ve made it.
There will be certificates and posters and a test prep pep talk by me and food and little cups filled with goodies from my mom (thanks mom!) and brownies from me.
We made it, babies. You’ve learned things, too. Maybe not as much as I wanted you to learn, but more than some people thought you would, which is something, right? Today I told you I was looping with you. You saw it as a reward and a reason to work hard J
I have so many stories to share about this week, my spirit is just too tired to share them.
I’m tired and focused on next week…on my family and the holiday and the togetherness I haven’t felt in far too long….on singing Silent Night in a candle lit church and how, ever since my niece was born I haven’t sung because I’m too busy holding back tears because somehow I always forget how good if feels to be home.

Today Joshua Stopped Talking

For 1o minutes.
Then another 10 minutes.
Then another 10 minutes.
Thank God for mini pretzles and timers.
The long story will come later. All of you special ed people that have been trying to help me with behavior plans - it finally worked!!
Let's see if it works again tomorrow, and if I can get him to actually work, not just be quiet so that I can teach and not have to constantly speak over him. (all bolds because that's how I speak all day because Joshua never quits talking) - UNTIL TODAY!

The story, the long version, will not be posted here. There's too much emotion involved...too much realness, even for me, to share. In short, I have a medical condition, which my students now know about. They found out in the worse possible way. I didn't get to tell them....they were all in tears, and then they didn't see me for 2 days. The staff at my school couldn't have been more supportive. Neither could my kids. I, in spite of so many things that go wrong on a daily basis, am blessed.
Strangely it was almost what was needed to bring us back together...to remind me just how much I love them and just how much they love me, even though they really have no idea how to show it.
In the days after I had so many people asking me why I was here, at this school and in this city.
"To teach," I told them. "Those are my kids."
I didn't feel it needed more of an explanation. Some people smiled. Some just shook their heads. Either way, I think they all believe me.
I love those kids, maybe not more, but differently than I've ever loved anyone. I'm ALWAYS on their side. Not to say that they don't get a consequence when they're in the wrong or that there aren't days when they frustrate me, but in the morning I get up to fight for them. I live my life, 5 days a week, for them. I've never done that for anyone before. The fact that I only have 13 of them only makes it more intense.
I'm looping with them next year, which means that my entire TFA experience will be with these 13 kids. 3 months ago I would have considered it punishment. Now I can't imagine having anyone else teach them.
I can't wait to see them tomorrow morning; to walk up the sidewalk littered with chicken bones and into my tin building with bars on the windows and teach them something.
PS - On Friday we had a graduation of the level A,B,C, and D level books. (Which are beginning kindergarten level - eek!!) My kids took them from the baskets and gave them to the speech teacher, then I had some kids come with me on my prep to get M, N, O, and P (end of second/beginning of third grade) books from the book room. After school I rearranged the shelves and added the new baskets. I hope they're as excited to see them as I was! Go my babies for working hard to read on grade level!!!

Optimism Returns

Sometimes all it takes to make you look up is hitting rock bottom.
This day will be remembered, by all of us, forever.

13 Days

-A para who hasn't shown up for 2 days.
-Kids who are increasingly disrespectful to each other.
-A staff on edge and trying to adjust to the fact that there is a room sitting empty while others are overflowing with desks and kids who are falling through the cracks of a broken system.
-Today we started class jobs. They have to earn their position. 9 out of 13 have yet to be hired.
-We slip back in to disillusionment. In spite of the gains that have been achieved kids go home to a culture that hasn't bought it - they haven't really bought it, and I'm not sure if I can sell it.
-13 days until the biggest test any of us have had all year and sometimes it's very very hard to love them.

"There's beauty in the breakdown"
Frou Frou

There is opportunity in this. Today we wore jeans and sneakers and prepared for a day of work. Not just teaching, but explaining and moving and cleaning and continuing to fight this battle that seems to be forever up hill.
It started with our AP telling my friend's kids that she left because they were bad, then splitting her class up among the other two fourth grade teachers. They're not hiring a replacement. A class was split as desks were pushed down the hallway in two separate directions. Classes of 22 turned in to classes of 30 overnight.
During the day her kids were in and out of my room, some in tears, some just being obnoxious. I ate lunch with others, some guilty, some angry, all with questions.
The 'bad' kids from the other 4th grades were in and out of my room today, needing a safe, quiet place to come and learn. This is not going to work, 30+ of them in one room. There's too many of them with special needs. Too many of them that need too much attention. Too many of them that really should be in my room full time. They can't be, so instead they'll come when they can't handle it in their own room anymore. When the cramped space and fast pace is too much for them to handle. It's not legal and it's not what MY kids need but at some point everyone else's 'bad' kids became my kids, too.
There's a lesson in this...an opportunity to come together as a staff and a community. We supported each other today. Listened, laughed, talked, vented...persevered together. One day at a time we'll make it.
"I'm glad you're still here," one person said.
"I can't believe she left and you stayed," said another. "You have the crazy kids."
There's beauty in the breakdown.
I do have the crazy kids and I love them. I refuse to leave them unless I am physically unable to teach them anymore.
We'll look back and realize that this was a turning point.
There is no looking back...only forward.

Right back what is wrong
We move along
All American Rejects

Today a teacher at my school quit. Not just any teacher. A fellow 4th grade teacher who was getting her masters in special ed. A first year teacher I would have dinner with on Friday nights of weeks we had both had a little too much of our students and our school. A teacher who's room I ate lunch in because my students are now self-contained during both lunch and recess. She was not only my colleague, but my friend and confidant. Yesterday at lunch she told me she was quitting. I didn't believe her. She'd said it many times before.
Today she didn't come back. Her room was empty. She was gone.
There were no goodbyes, not to me or her students or administrators.
She was just gone.
Over the phone we talked. I was shocked, then sad, then angry, then numb...then I went back to my kids.
MY KIDS. Who have learned to read and subtract with regrouping and multiply and can tell you all about why static electricity happens.
MY KIDS. Who made me want to quit almost every day for the first month but who I can not imagine walking out on now.
MY KIDS. Who work their butts off for me.
MY KIDS. Who other teachers hate and can't control and don't appreciate.
This system is broken. Things don't happen the way they should. Kids and classes and teachers and entire schools fall through the cracks but at the end of the day some of us are standing up and taking responsibility. These are MY KIDS. This is not my system or my curriculum or my school but they are MY KIDS and I will NOT abandon them.
It's time for people to stand up and fight for them because they haven't been given the skills they need to fight for themselves.
I am so incredibly angry and all I can do about it is get up tomorrow and be the best teacher MY KIDS have ever had.

19 days

Anxiety.
The result of planning (and teaching) 3 and a half hours of test prep a day.
It's what we'll be doing until after Christmas.
We're judged on this. All of us.
Oh my goodness.
Please let it be over already.

The Revolution Will Not Be Televised

Neither will moments like today when Adony and I both realize that he has jumped 9...NINE Fountas and Pennel reading levels since September.
This is the kid who told me I was wasting my time with him in the mornings.
The kid who freaked out when Jose stepped on his foot and drug me down the hall in bare feet in my effort to restrain him.
The kid other teachers are afraid of because he's so big and...well...angry.
Neither one of us could quit smiling today as he read a level K book and understood it.
Maybe he will drop out and maybe he won't pass the damn ELA that is just around the corner.
But by the time he leaves me he will know how to read on grade level.
It's my mission and I refuse to fail.
It will not be televised but it may very well change both of our lives forever and that's what we're here for right?
To be changed...

Home

Today Jose tore up an entire notebook of paper and sprinkled it all over the rug. He then laid down and made snow angels and said in his toddler voice, "I'm making snow angels!"
There was no punishment or reward that could have stopped him. I tried. Instead I kept teaching, the rest of my kids kept learning, and Jose kept making snow angels until he was done and I made him pick up all of the paper.
He tried to use the broom. "You made the mess with your hands so you can pick it up with your hands," I said.
"Okay!" he said. He bounced as he picked up every single piece of paper.
It was a moment that reminded me that there are times I have no clue what to do with some of my kids.

Then Malik threw a pair of scissors at Mario. Child proof scissors are not so child proof when they are thrown in anger across the room.
Almost hit by the scissors, Adony hid under his desk.
None of us could stop asking what had happened - it seemed completely random.
The cause? A math worksheet they both thought was theirs. Nevermind the fact that there was an extra one on the floor (one had fallen)...After school Mario and 5 of his buddies waited for Malik. I requested that he be escorted to the bus. Unfortuneatly I cannot always be there to protect them.

I need a break. A home where I am not in charge of anyone's safety or education.
2 more days and I head to cold weather and good vegetarian food and friends who became family during my 5 years of college. For the first time in my life, I'm actually hoping there's snow on the ground when I get off the plane in Minneapolis.

Gains

Somewhere in the time between the end of May and now my kids learned to read.
Maybe it was during the summer, or maybe my attempts at teaching over the last 10 weeks actually resulted in progress.
Either way, they're breezing through the EClass (our reading diagnostic). Some of them jumped 3 and 4 levels in some areas. The average growth was 2 levels. That's almost a year's worth of growth. That means that my little Joshua has grown a year and a half in reading since the end of May.
He came in reading on an end of kindergarten level and he now reads on a mid second grade level.
When I showed him his progress he asked me to take his picture.
"I've never had a smart day before," he said.
I wish I would have had my camera.
I left school on cloud 9.
I can catch these kids up.
I can get them ready for general education and LIFE.
Holy buckets.

I cancelled their field trip.
For throwing pens and fighting and cursing and refusing to do work and not listening to directions.
It was not a logical consequence.
It was not fair.
In 10 seconds I took away something we've all looked forward to for over a month.
But the respect that they used to show is slowly fading away and something needs to change.

I feel like I lost focus.
Like this stopped becoming a mission and started becoming an effort to survive.
Like the passion is there but not like it used to be, then maybe again I associate passion with the rigor of institute when really that was closer to insanity than passion.
I love my kids.
I think about them all of the time.
They are a part of my everyday life, even on weekends and holidays when I don't see them.
I am not teaching like I should.
I am not assessing like I should.
My instruction is not driven by data as much as it should be.
I let my kids get away with not walking in a straight line because I don't have the energy to teach it, even though I know it will save me time in the end.
I do the things I have to do (like bulletin boards and portfolios and grad work and grading and planning) but the creativity is gone, lost in the overwhelming number of never ending tasks.
My kids work silently and instead of rewarding them I relish in the peacefulness.
There is not a sense of urgency, even though we know the ELA is only 33 days away.
How do we get that back?

Somewhere within the past 2 weeks we started having more and more days like today.
When a majority of my kids are on 'good day' in our negative consequence tracking system.
When they LEARN and actually do their independent work successfully on their own.
Where they work together and hold each other accountable for behavior in the classroom.
Where kids notice the room is messy and clean it without me asking them to.
Where I'm not on edge or stressed out and don't have moments where I think, "Oh my God, I don't know how to get their attention right now."
If you walked by or in my room today you would have had no clue I taught 13 emotionally disturbed/violent kids.
I come home thinking, okay, this is my job, and I like it.
Who'd have thought 2 months ago I would ever say that.

Professional development was really 8 hours of too much overwhelming information.
Teach to the test.
Don't teach to the test.
Start now.
Don't start now.
8 weeks left until my babies show what they know on the ELA. Our school year won't be even half over, but if they don't pass, they'll be retained.
After school I added new books to our library and graded their morning journals. A lot was accomplished today, and my classroom and spirit are ready for my kiddos to come back tomorrow.
In spite of all of this, I can't stop thinking about 8 words said to me by an administrator.
A person who's job it is to HELP me help my kids pass these tests.
"A****, we know he won't pass the test."
He's the one I read with 2, now 3 days a week in the morning.
The kid who stays in during recess to do book reports.
My 13 year old working as hard as he can to get out of the 3rd grade.
This past week we took another 'practice' standardized test. I handed it to him and pounded his fist on the desk. Then he cried.
I almost did, too.
He couldn't read it, we both knew it, and all he could do was guess - how do you guess at short answers? He has the potential to be very very screwed, in spite of all of the work we're doing.
But for someone else to write off the hope and the work and the POSSIBILITY that both of us have - the knowledge that he WILL learn to read - it's all I can think about.
All I could think to respond was, "He WILL pass that test, no matter what it takes."
She laughed.
I couldn't be more motivated.

Janitors and Parents

Of all the people in my life, janitors and parents were my heros today.
After witnessing my scolding from my AP for not filling out a form to get my printer fixed, and I responding back to her that a broken printer was about the last thing on my priority list, one of the janitors came back to my room at night and fixed my printer.
The same janitors that instantly clean up bodily fluid, fix broken lightbulbs, close my windows when I forget, climb ladders to get Jose off of the roof when he decides it would be a good idea to hang out up there, and rescue me when I get trapped in the school yard are now fixing my computers.
Janitors are the unsung heroes of my classroom.
Most days I feel like they're the only people who believe in my kids.
Even in the moments when I don't, they do, and they, for some reason, believe in this white girl from Kansas who came to teach the class nobody wanted.
And then there's my parents, who listen to the good and the bad and still answer the phone at the end of the day, and then send emails that say, "No matter what ... Dad and I are behind you all the way. Our support and faith in your ability and decisions is one constant in your life."
They're a seatbelt on this rollercoaster that I chose for myself.
I could leave tomorrow and have a place to call home.
2 places, actually.
That knowledge is what allows me to stay.

I don't know how to fight for myself when my kids seem so much more important.
Professional development and missed preps and illegal ratios seem unimportant when I look at all that needs to be accomplished.
Today I got scolded for not filling out a form to fix my printers.
I really don't care about printers.
Could we fix my kids first please?

Recruitment

Part of TFA's recruitment strategy this year is having current corps members replace their myspace and facebook pictures with a banner linking to the TFA website that says, "2 years from now you won't recognize yourself."
Clever, but kind of scary.
We arrived at institute these idealistic people who couldn't wait to spend the next 2 years saving the world. Now so many of us are burnt out, overworked, discouraged, and in bad need of a hair cut, but who has time when you work 70 hour weeks?
We see each other on the train and in the gym and many times the conversation consists of a weak smile and hope that eventually life will get better than this.
It will...at least that's what we're counting on.
Someone asked me today if I would recommend TFA to upcoming graduates.
It's not about recommending. It's an incredible organization that has the potential to change education in this country. It's about coming prepared to give yourself physically, emotionally, and mentally.
Before your jump at the thought of changing the world, know that it is not easy and that never, not even on good days, have I felt like I'm saving the world (because we're really not - we're first year teachers trying to survive). They say that to you all the time. They prep you for this to be the biggest challenge you will ever face, but there's lots that doesn't get said even in the 17 hour days of institute.
I wish someone would have told me I would have fights in my room almost everyday, and that there would be no where to send kids after (or during) their outbursts/meltdowns, because there's really no one in the school that can manage them.
I wish someone would have told me that violence is the culture of my school, and that eventually I would become numb to it just like my students have, and that this numbness would leave me questioning who I am and why I chose this as my profession.
I wish someone would have told me that I would think about quitting at least 2 times a week.
I wish that someone would have told me that idealism is not what gets you through this. The big picture is sometimes only seen at the end and on many days the only thing that gets me up in the morning is knowing there are only 2 more days until Friday.
Instead, they told me that at the end of the day, I wouldn't be able to imagine my life without these kids and what do you know...they were right...so maybe at the end of 2 years we won't recognize ourselves....
Hopefully we figure out how to squeeze in time for haircuts.

She Couldn't Resist

Or at least that's what I'd like to believe.
My para came back today.
Despite the fact that she talks on the phone during class and is often late and sometimes falls asleep during lessons, I wanted to give her the biggest hug ever.
My kids shouted her name when she walked in the door like it was Christmas.
She tried to hide her smile when I gave her the letters they had written her on Friday.
Even with their chair throwing, melt down antics...she couldn't resist.
Something about my kiddos is powerful :)

“This city’s made us crazy and we must get out.”
Maroon 5

From the bottom you can only go up, right? That means tomorrow will be a better day.
Friday brought drama. Friday was full of kids who were off even before they walked in the room, drama between my para and principal, seeing first hand what happens to kids with emotional disorders when they are (or feel) abandoned, and the chance to see what happens to my classroom when all of this happens on one day…
It started when we said the pledge 4 times. None of the fourth grade classes were participating so we stood outside in the yard and said it over and over and over…
Christopher was having an off day – yelling, attempting to hit one of the girls, tipping over desks and throwing the contents around the room.
Drama between my para and principal resulted in her quitting – walking out at 10:30 in the morning. It was not a discreet departure – she told everyone goodbye, let my kids know she was not coming back, the whole nine yards. As she walked out the door Joshua begged her not to leave. “I promise I’ll do my work!” he pleaded. “COME BACK!”
“It’s okay,” I reassured him and myself. “Sit down at your seat.”
My first plan was to ignore it – move on with our spelling test and writer’s workshop, but one by one they cried until 12 of them were in tears.
We could not move on.
I passed out their writer’s notebooks. “It’s okay to be sad and to be upset,” I said, “and it’s okay to cry when we feel sad or upset. One way to get out our feeling when we’re sad is to write.”
I gave them 20 minutes to write or draw or sit quietly and they did. Most of them wrote letters apologizing for their behavior and begging our para to come back. When the timer went off we had a brief discussion where they asked me a lot of questions I couldn’t answer…why did she leave, is she coming back, why don’t people like our class…I told them over and over again it was not their fault. I don’t think they believe me.
The rest of the day was chaos. Me trying to push us forward academically and my kids feeling abandoned and unable to focus on what we needed to learn.
Worksheets and activities got us through the day, but not before at least 7 fights and 2 kids running out of the room and around the building.
My kids are not getting what they need and it’s my fault for not advocating for them.
I’ve never been so emotionally drained in my life.

In an effort to recover mentally and escape the rain me, a roomie, and friend went to Boston. Rented a car, drove, ate, explored, listened to music…I came home feeling rejuvenated but now, with Monday morning just around the corner, I find myself counting down the days until Friday.Do people really live like this?