Search results matching tags 'classroom management', 'parents', and 'team teaching'

Evelyn and Jason.

Anonymous — Sun, 15 May 2011 11:06:00 GMT

We all know the drill. The sprouts with the highest academic and behavior needs get the higher percentage of our attention… day in and day out. Is it fair? Absolutely not. Unfortunately, it’s just the way the cookie crumbles and there’s not much you can do about it.

Lucky for me, with a team teaching situation this year, I’m finding I can give more attention to all children, regardless of academic or behavior concerns. No doubt, those ‘squeaky wheels’ always get a little more regard, but those ‘rocks’ as I like to call them (rocks as in, ‘like a rock’ sturdy and steady, I don’t have to worry about them too much) get more than usual.

Two of my sprouts who fit into that category this year are Evelyn and Jason. Both are quiet, respectful, and academically strong. It’s easy to see how each could get lost in the shuffle, but having two teachers has allowed them more one on one and ‘small moment’ time.

As long as I teach, I’ll never forget hearing Evelyn’s mother tell me at last summer’s open house, “She doesn’t really like men.” Yikes. Good thing my teaching partner is a woman. Funny thing is, turns out Evelyn just hadn’t met the right guy yet… me. Surely she was slower to warm up to my charms, but eventually, in her own time, she allowed me to show her the kindness she deserved.

Last week, Evelyn presented me with the following:

“Thank you,” I said.

“I think you’re sweet too,” I finished as she smiled at me. She offered a rare and cherished hug.

Jason too is a quiet boy who, unlike most boys in kindergarten, rarely acts silly or needs to be reigned in. If I never said, ‘Jason, thank you for sitting politely and being ready to learn,’ the poor boy would barely ever hear his name. While other boys seek me out for hugs and handholding (yes, the boys crave them), Jason would always stay back, preferring to offer a smile instead.

About two weeks ago, Jason came up to me during Quiet Time and asked if he could have a hug. Naturally, I obliged, but I was surprised by his request. After our hug, as he pulled back, I said, “Thank you for such a nice hug.”

Since then, he’s begun asking for hugs every day. I’m not sure what exactly prompted that first hug request, but as with most things hug related, I don’t question it, I just take my hugs as they come… and they are plentiful.

This year, Evelyn and Jason have taught me an important lesson. While the squeaky wheel usually gets the grease, silence is golden and deserves to be noticed, rewarded, and hugged.

The Big Show.

Anonymous — Thu, 31 Mar 2011 19:00:00 GMT

I love spring student led conferences. It’s what I affectionately like to call, ‘The Big Show’ because it takes us weeks to prepare and practice for the day. In addition to getting all our materials together (it’s a long extensive list of items, including work from the first day of school to compare against recent work and entire Goldilocks and the Three Bears setting and puppets for retelling), we have to psych up the little sprouts to share their work.

No doubt, they’re excitement and exuberance is bubbling at the surface, but we want to make sure they feel ready to do all the sharing independently… this takes practice, and lots of it. By the time the day actually arrived yesterday (both Monday and Tuesday they all came in asking, ‘Are the conferences today?’), we were more than ready.

We spent the day gathering all the hard work we’d prepared and then, like all good hosts do, cleaning our room so it looked the best it could for our guests. When, at the last minute, I tried to find a hiding place for our laundry basket of art shirts (as my mom says, I’m a ‘stacker’ and a ‘hider’ – my bedroom closet and underneath my bed were all ways busting at the seams as a kid…), Mrs. D. reminded me ours is a ‘working classroom’ and should look as such. Knowing our custodian wouldn’t have time to clean our room before conferences began, everyone pitched in to wipe, sweep, and tidy our room.

And then they began. It never ceases to make my shirt buttons bust with pride to watch little kindergartners bring their families in, take their hands, guide them to their seats, and just show off. That’s basically what our conferences are… Mrs. D. and I do very little. We walk around prompting, praising, and patting (as in heads), but that’s about it. We answer the occasional question, but really, this is a chance for our sprouts to show how far they’ve come since school began.

Everyone came. The few we weren’t sure about came. The mom who is on bed rest because she’s about to deliver any second came (I told her I had my cell and was prepared to call 911 if needed). Most of the families found childcare for siblings to they could give their kindergartner their undivided attention. I saw more smiles on children’s and parent’s faces than I could count. Our journey is winding closer to a finish and I couldn’t be more proud.

Audra.

Anonymous — Sun, 12 Dec 2010 13:17:00 GMT

During those first few days of school, teachers do something bad… well most teachers do… well at least I do. In the chaos of those initial days, as I try to reach the surface and get a gasp of air, I scan the room and identify those kids who you think are going to be difficult and those who aren’t. It’s not fair, it’s not on purpose, it just happens. With each year of experience I gain, I realize more and more how wrong I usually am.

This year, the sprout I was most wrong about was Audra. It didn’t help that a few staff members knew her from outside of school and had ‘warned’ me about her… it didn’t help that her parents let me know she could be ‘difficult’ at times… it didn’t help that she showed up those first few days and looked like she’d rather be getting a cavity filled than be in kindergarten.

In a word, Audra appeared crabby. She didn’t seem to like anything we did, any of the other children much, or her teachers. When we sang and moved, she just stood there. Sometimes I thought I could see her lips moving, but I think she might have just been grumbling. I feared it was going to be a dreadfully long year for all of us.

After a few weeks something started to change. As we all settled into the routines of kindergarten, Audra relaxed and began… blossoming. She started singing… she started dancing… she started to love working – especially writing. She started giving hugs… she’s become one of the most frequent huggers… the other day I called her my ‘Velcro friend’ and she laughed. She laughed.

Now when I see those staff members who know her and they ask about her, I gleefully report how well she is doing in all areas. I take a small bit of satisfaction in the surprised looks on their faces. She has become a child who loves just about everything about school. She’s a model student. She’s showing her sweet and caring self just about all the time.

Naturally the lesson here is not to be quick to judge our students. I’m not sure that will happen, because those first few days, we’re all in survival mode. Rather, become aware of those judgments, but don’t hold on to them. Realize, just as the craziness of those first few weeks morphs into a calm and trusting community, so will your perceptions.

Our class wouldn’t be the same without Audra. I sincerely look forward to seeing her smile each morning and knowing she’s going to be helping out anyway she can and offering up hugs every few minutes. She now clearly loves school and I simply adore her.