Search results matching tags 'preschool' and 'mentoring'

snapshots of the day

Anonymous — Thu, 05 Nov 2009 00:35:19 GMT

*Cherry and Chutney got bus write-ups last week that showed up in my mailbox only this morning. They were defiant to the bus driver and refused to sit down on the bus. And Cherry called Chutney the B word.

*Plum showed up after two days at home and burst into tears. “What’s wrong, honey?” “I…want…my…DADDY!” she sobbed. She sobbed all the way to the local library, so, for the first hour of the morning. At the library she sat on Miss Slinger’s lap whimpering, and then fell asleep in her arms. I spent most of story time trying to track down her parents, who finally showed up when we were back at school.

*I got a new student, who moved to my class from the afternoon class. She knows Miss Slinger, and the room, but not me. She was dressed in a t-shirt and a thin sweatshirt today, and it was very cold out (in the 30s). I tried to give her a jacket to wear to the library, but she refused. I gave her a partner to hold hands with, and she refused. So she held my hand all the way there. Miss Mellow told me later that the new girl is very moody, that mom didn’t show up for her parent conference — twice — and that the girl came to school once with a warm jacket, and not again since.

*Because of very poor test scores, the third through fifth grade teams were shaken up, and a few teachers were removed from classroom teaching (they will be doing supplemental teaching instead). At least one teacher was in tears. Emotions were running high. I wish the Prince had done this back in June, but I think he did the right thing, better late than never. It’s inexcusable when certain teachers’ students don’t make a year’s worth of progress. Our students are so far behind they really need to make well more than a year’s progress. Less than a year? Shameful.

*We read Knuffle Bunny for the second time (I’m back to doing Repeated Interactive Readalouds), and at the end, I asked, “have you ever lost something?” After we heard about a lost ball and a lost car, I told them about a time when I lost my favorite mittens. Pumpkin looked very concerned. He raised his hand. “Teacher, I can give you my red mittens. Let me go get them for you.” And he was about to get up before I stopped him, and assured him that I have since replaced the lost mittens. He tried again at dismissal time to give me his red mittens. So sweet.

*Zucchini had so much fun at recess that he forgot to tell me he needed to go pee. He had a change of clothes in his backpack — but the pants were shorts! So the poor kid went home in a warm jacket, hat, mittens, boots….and shorts.

*I visited Miss Mellow’s class, with her okay, to talk to them about all the stuff in the room, and how most of it is stuff I paid for. I talked to them about respecting books, and how to take care of them, and where to put them (the Mo Willems books go in the Mo Willems box, not the ABC box, and the farm books go on the shelf, not in the color box). I also showed them how to clean up the house corner and where everything goes there. Later Miss Slinger told me that they did a much better job of clean up after their centers time.

*I spent two hours finishing writing up a post-observation report. It made me cranky. I don’t think I want to be a mentor next year.

life on the rollercoaster

Anonymous — Wed, 24 Sep 2008 19:09:21 GMT

Anyone reading this who is already a teacher (I know I have some fledgling teachers reading this blog, as well as some non-teachers) knows what teaching is like. Teachers are well-acquainted with the experiences of being bombarded by stimuli all day, of needing to think of 100 things at a time, and having to make decisions constantly.

So teachers, you can skip today’s post. You’ve been there, done that. This is for the non-teachers.

Today was a better day, because David was not there, and Max had had a long talk about his behavior with his parents, and was determined to do better. But it was still hard, so here, in list form, are just some of the things that I was juggling this morning:

I go to yet another meeting before school, this time for the mentoring leadership team’s weekly gathering. I have become the unofficial timekeeper, and as such, try to steer discussions back on track, to keep us moving through the agenda, and to help find conclusions and consensus on each item. I am praised for that by a colleague, which I really appreciate, although I admit to him, “I know that what this really means is that I’m bossy!”
Find kindergarten teacher whose room I’m supposed to visit during my prep, and ask her if I can bow out, even though I have just seen note from her asking me to read a story to class when I arrive as she has laryngitis. Bow and scrape and apologize for not coming. She is very nice about it, and sympathetic to my description of my room being “in freefall.” Listen to her scratchy voice. Feel guilty.
Return to the classroom to find both Nan and Miss Nelson, and a stranger (Miss Nelson’s mentor). Introduce myself to stranger, sitting at my desk, using my computer, so I cannot. Damn, can’t check email. Very little time to talk to them or get the room ready before I opening the door to the children.
I greet two more new students (that’s three this week, and four since last week), both girls, only one of whom speaks English. Beg the social worker to help, but she can’t, so her intern comes into the room to help children sign in and move their nametags.
Oops, nametags in the wrong place! Rush over and move them.
Note that sign-in line is not moving. See that Boy A is standing there with pencil hovering over sign-in book, frozen. Intern does not know what to do. Tell Boy A to make a mark, any mark, which he does, and usher him to move his nametag to “Who’s Here?”
Find pencil to get next child in line to sign in.
Take new girls to hall to find their cubbies. See that only one has a cubby.
Go into room to get new cubby sign, write new girl’s name on it, help her find cubby and tape her sign in place.
Note that we have two minutes to get to Gym. Turn off lights, say, “One, Two, Three, Freeze!” and explain to new girls how to freeze, cross arms, and look at me for directions. Tell class it’s time to go.
Turn on lights, line up children alphabetically, finding spaces for new girls.
Downstairs meet gym teacher in cafeteria, so warn him that there are new students, hand over class, and take one new girl to talk to Spanish speaking teacher who is helping out with breakfast. Ask, “could you ask her how to pronounce her name?”
Drop girl off in gym and go upstairs with Nan, who says she can help during prep.
Sit down at desk (yay, she’s gone!) and feel unfamiliar sense of calm descend. Am alone in room with Nan, my friend, who asks, “what can I do?” Give Nan many many things to do.
Hour passes in a flash. Cannot remember single thing that happens during prep.
Pick up class in gym. Find out that new girl says her name is Lola. We already have a Lola! Turns out her first name is name I was given, but family at home calls her Lola, her middle name. Make mental note to find Spanish speaking employee to call home to find out what we should call her at school.
Back in room, children finish journals, but wander aimlessly when done. Repeatedly give instructions to “find a book and sit down in your chair!” Note that I never labeled the books on the shelf now that they are all books about color. Wonder when I am going to find time to do that.
Start writing morning message. Get interrupted several times.
“Teacher, the bug is back!” Go over to terrarium to see one sowbug. Notice that he is not moving, and hope that he is alive but just resting. Try to write morning message. Give up halfway through.
Start cleanup time. Get frustrated with children visiting the sowbug instead of cleaning up and coming to sit down.
Boy B and Boy C, who were fighting over Superhero ABC earlier, are now fighting over Knuffle Bunny.
Horrible tearing sound as Knuffle Bunny gets torn in two.
Feel like crying or yelling. Do neither, but cannot help sounding mad. Boy C starts to wail. Send both boys into hall with Nan to discuss situation. Make note to self ask Spanish speaker to call Boy B’s mother to tell her what happened and ask for $2 to help cover cost. Make note to self to call Boy C’s mother and tell her same thing. Make note to self to order new copy of Knuffle Bunny from Scholastic book order. Which reminds me I haven’t sent in payment for September order, so make note to self to do that. Soon.
Start morning meeting without being ready.
Find out during playing of song about colors (from math curriculum) that boom box is dying. Instead of loving the song, everyone cringes with weird noises cd player makes. Make note to self to buy new boom box. Or try to play cd on computer. Remember time last year when I tried to do that and computer would not eject cd. Give up train of thought and move on to next thing.

Today’s development

Anonymous — Tue, 23 Sep 2008 20:23:44 GMT

David kicked Max in the face as hard as he could, twice. Nan managed to grab him as he was trying for a third attempt.

He has been suspended and won’t be back until Thursday.

We are having a meeting to discuss the situation on Friday morning, and I am going to ask the team (psychologist, social worker, etc.), “at what point do we decide he’s not going to be in this classroom anymore?”

Nan, sweet Nan, said this was the worst morning we’ve ever had.

The only good thing to come from it was we made a kickass BLUE collage.

Wahhhh!

Anonymous — Mon, 22 Sep 2008 19:14:22 GMT

Alas, it was another difficult morning.

Most of the hour I had before school started I was at a tech meeting in the computer lab, where we learned how to do a behavior screener on each child. I got all mine done — which was good — but only with lots of technical glitches, which was not so good. Everyone on the staff is frustrated, because the tech people at the district level instituted a lot of changes which have made using our computers an exercise in frustration, or even rage. I doubt that the district techies made the changes in order to make our lives harder, but that is the end result, and they have been ignoring our media specialist, who keeps going to them with all the problems we’re having.

One teacher stood up and made an impassioned plea to all of us to document our struggles in letter form, and turn them in for the media specialist to take to her meeting at the district level later this week. Hooray! So even though I had a ton to do back in my room, I sat down and wrote furiously.

I was finishing up my letter when an assistant teacher came in with his son, whose first day was today. I greeted them warmly, but I was thinking, “Ack! I’ve only got ten minutes before I have to open the door!” I asked them if they wouldn’t mind waiting in the hall, and then ran around the room setting out journals and pencils and crayons.

Arrival time went fine, although the new boy was confused and needed my help to figure out our routines, and one boy was back after a week’s absence and didn’t know about the journals. (He was out recovering from having his appendix removed. His sister brought him to me, showed me the bandage on his abdomen, and said, “nobody can punch him in the stomach,” and I said, “of course not,” but inside I was thinking, “how am I going to keep this kid safe?!”)

About five kids were wearing red for our celebration of Red Day, which was kind of disappointing. I think a lot of the parents are not reading my newsletter. Perhaps they don’t even open the folder!

We got to gym class no problem, and I had my appendicitis boy sit out so he wouldn’t get hurt, then went to find a translator to explain to him that he was NOT in trouble, we were just trying to keep him safe.

Most of my prep time I spent in the kindergarten room next door, in my role as a teacher mentor, because the K teacher had asked me to come observe the behavior in her room and help her figure out how to manage it better. I took diligent notes but while I was there her class was very well behaved and she did a terrific job leading them through calendar time and through a story.

When I picked up the class from gym Nan told me that it had gone really well and that everyone had been good. That did not last, unfortunately.

Back in the room I tried to get them excited about red day, and showed them all sorts of red things I own because red is my favorite color, but David said, “why are you being all silly?” and none of the class seemed all that engaged. Then when Nan was going to set up centers for me, David grabbed my stuff, ripped some papers, and then headed out the door at top speed, punching Max in the face on the way. So Nan was gone, and I was on my own, trying to explain the different color-themed centers, set them up, and help the children choose and put their clothespins in the right places on the pocket chart.

Max went to house corner, where he, Trixie, and another boy and girl all started fighting and tussling over baby dolls and dinner plates, and all ended up having to leave. Then Max chose blocks, but wouldn’t actually go there, and kept asking the little boy, “where do you want to go? Do you want to go to blocks with me?” The boy clearly didn’t want to be with Max anymore, but I couldn’t get Max to get started on the blocks so the boy could decide where to go next. Next thing I knew, Max and the boy and Trixie were all fighting over clothespins, and Max was pushing them and knocked down the centers pocket chart.

I put him in time out but he started screaming “I want to go to blocks!” and tried to hit, kick, and scratch me. He succeeded in drawing blood on my forearm.

The new boy kept switching centers without moving his clothespin, so I tried to help him, but he didn’t get it. He went over to the puzzle shelf and knocked over five puzzles, whether on purpose or by accident, I couldn’t tell. I spent a long time on the floor trying to put the puzzles back together, during which time Nan returned with a calm David (who started working on our red collage in art), and went out with a still-screaming Max. While she was in the hall he ripped down a poster, scratched her arm and drew blood, and kicked her in the shin so hard he broke the skin.

I could tell we wouldn’t have time for recess, so I started clean-up time, which made Max out in the hall scream louder than ever. Finally, everyone sat down, and Max returned calm (Nan is still a miracle worker), and I read Red Is Best, a great story about a little girl who feels the same way I do about the color red. But only part way through David suddenly punched the boy next to him and ran out of the room….

…And no, there wasn’t any time during the morning when I felt that things were going well.

Not really looking forward to September

Anonymous — Tue, 22 Jul 2008 17:27:48 GMT

When I heard that Wonder Woman was moving on to a better school, I emailed the principal (let’s call him the Prince, shall we?) telling him my concerns and asking for some reassurance. That was a month ago, and no, of course he hasn’t responded. The Prince probably doesn’t have email underground where he’s buried his head. Ostriches [...]

Diary of a preschool teacher, pt. 2

Anonymous — Fri, 06 Jun 2008 23:06:22 GMT

It’s Friday night, I’ve got three days of teaching left, and I’m one glass of chardonnay down so far. In my role as mentor teacher, I did an observation cycle (pre-observation conference, observation, post-observation conference) with a teacher who didn’t want me in her room all year, so it came down to the last minute. [...]

My turn under scrutiny

Anonymous — Tue, 13 May 2008 20:19:05 GMT

I had a formal observation today. What I mean is, I was the one being observed. (Usually it’s the other way around. I do 2-4 observations a quarter.) Every one of us, even the master and mentor teachers, needs to be observed once each quarter, and this was my last observation of the year. The mentor [...]