Stay put? Go back?

I wonder if I should start paying attention to my dreams more. On several mornings this past year I’ve woken from a dream in which I’m in the classroom, or I’m teaching, or I’m surrounded by kids, or I’m doing something teacherly – and then I wake up and feel like I’m missing something. Should I go back to the classroom?

I’ve been in this profession since 1990. Teaching has been my life. After 26 years in, however, teachers usually start looking at how many years they have left, when and how to retire. I've found myself doing the same. I know I'm not totally content in my current position. For the last two years I’ve been in a support role, coaching new teachers, providing professional development, running data, and going to meetings.

It’s just not as satisfying as the teacher life. There’s nothing like teaching kids how to write, reading with them, getting them excited about new things, and letting them figure things out for themselves. It’s fulfilling and heartbreaking and joyful to be responsible for a classroom kids who depend on you in different ways; you get to watch them grow, you form relationships with them, you push them and protect them. Teaching is how you move the world forward, how you connect with the future, how you keep dreams alive. I miss that.

Now, I know teaching isn’t what it used to be – and that if I were presently in the classroom, I would be complaining about the paperwork, the lesson plans, too much testing, demanding administrators, and disengaged parents, and the pointless meetings.

But I still miss teaching. And I know that, if it’s popping up in my dreams as often as it does, it’s because my soul is trying to tell me something.

Half Teacher, Half Super Hero

Most of us are required to wear an ID badge at school. I wear mine on a lanyard, to which I've attached a large white button with black lettering, stating: “HALF TEACHER, HALF SUPERHERO”.  I’ve felt that way for a long time, but this past year I believe it even more. I wear these words as a mantra, a shield, and a shout out to all my fellow educators. Who else but a teacher can know what it’s really like?

We pay our respects to the children and educators lost in Newtown, Connecticut on December 14. While the grim news affected our entire country, it touched teachers in a most profound way. Who would ever imagine that the joyful place called school would one day invoke the saddest of tears? And, are we even surprised that teachers would step forward to protect those in their charge?

I’m even more determined to make it known, that ours is the most humbling of professions. The huge expectation placed on our students as indicated in the new standards, and the incessant testing that robs us of teaching time, wears at us. Teachers are more burdened than ever with district mandates, tight schedules, and the urgent need to reach every student. A typical school day with its ups and downs– bad behavior, laughter, the discovery of a weeks-old muffin in a desk (and an accidental science lesson!), multiplication facts that make you shake your head, great discussions, no homework and MIA parents, and the collective “Nooooo!!!!” when the bell rings and it’s time to go home – is tiring, overwhelming, heart-breaking, and inspiring.

I often tell myself “I’m done!” with this exhausting work, it’s just too much sometimes. And yet, I fall in love with it again day after day. Right before we broke for the holidays, my newest student - who has only been here a few months – laughed at a joke I told in class. His eyes lit up and he guffawed! Another student, who refused to speak since September, began to bloom during guided reading, as she shared the story of her arrival to the U.S. – a connection she made after reading When Jessie Came Across the Sea. Moments like these mean a lot to a teacher, especially a teacher of ELLs.

It’s been too easy to criticize teachers lately. But when it gets really tough, and when it counts the most, we stand firm. And so, in the New Year, I recommit to being the best teacher I can be. I’ll teach my kids with energy and enthusiasm. I’ll prepare engaging lessons. I’ll keep myself informed. I’ll have high expectations of my students, but I’ll also be sensitive to their needs. I’ll watch over them.

I’m half teacher, half superhero.

Babbles and Confidence

It's the start of spring and that awesome time of year when my students begin to "blossom". I feel relieved this month; my students are finally showing progress. At the same time, I'm finding that I've left some holes in my teaching OR that my students have not fully grasped a skill OR that they "forgot" OR... all of the above.

My students, English Language Learners, have varying levels of English proficiency. The typical reading or math lesson takes us double (and triple) time; I need to pre-teach vocabulary, develop prior knowledge, and spend lots of time clarifying text. I can't get through any kind of lesson without stopping often to make sure my kids are "getting it". We're often weeks behind the other classes.

So this week, during a mini-lesson on alliteration, and after we looked at (and played with) several examples from authentic text and lots of tongue-twisters and trabalenguas in Spanish, I stopped to review the difference between sounds and letters. I wrote "Cassy catches coffee quickly in a cardboard cup" on the board, and asked the class -

"What do you notice about this sentence?" No reaction. (OK, I'll ask it in a different way.)

"CCCassy cccatches cccoffee qqqquickly in a cccardboard cccup. Do you hear anything interesting?"

Blank stares. (That's OK, I'll do "wait time".) Five seconds, ten... fif-

"I know!" one of my buddies calls out. "They all have the same letters!"

"And those letters are...?" I prompt.

Crickets chirp. Five seconds, ten...

Someone's raising her hand - YES! "Tell me charming lady! What do you see? What do you hear?"

"The alphabet!" with a huge smile on her face.

"The alphabet. Yes, the alphabet." (Well, no, that's not what I was asking, but I'll go with it, see if it gets us where we need to go.) "The alphabet has two kinds of letters, and those letters have different kinds of sounds. Can anyone tell me what kinds of letters are in the alphabet?"

Sssshhhhhh. (Geez kids, now you're quiet?)

A hand shoots up. "Yes sir! What kinds of letters are in the alphabet?"

"Upper ones and lower ones!"

"Well... " (I don't want to discourage him, but - )

"Small ones and big ones!" he tries again.

Oh no. Really? (My face is probably changing now. I. MUST. REMAIN. CALM.)

One of my "top" reading group kids raises his hand. Aww. I bet he was waiting to give his classmates a chance. "Babbles," he says.

"Babbles?" I ask. "Babbles?" I repeat. I don't get it.

Another hand waves. I call on him, silently hoping the fire drill will go off.

"And confidence. Babbles and confidence."

Yep. Babbles and confidence.

Stand Up... I'll Help You

Last Thursday morning, as I walked my class in to the school, I tripped and fell on the sidewalk.  It was one of those slow-motion knee, to hip, to elbow falls that took forever to finish. I found myself lying on my side, on the walkway, the blue sky above and morning noises all around me. As I lay there, I couldn't help thinking "Oh my God! How many people just saw that?" I wanted to disappear!

As I shook my head in disbelief (I have just FALLEN!) and tried to hoist myself back up, my students all of a sudden surrounded me, like a wall. It was like they were protecting me from the others - the other kids, the parents, the teachers! One of the boys stood in front of me, set his feet firmly apart, and extended his hands to me, saying, "OK miss, venga. Párese... yo la ayudo." (OK miss, come on now. Stand up... I'll help you.) He actually stood firmly enough that I was able to lift myself up with his help. 

The rest of the children were soooo quiet.The girls brushed me off, and the boys scattered to collect my things which had landed all over the place. My books and papers had flown out of my book bag, my yogurt had splattered all over the walkway. No one said a word!

We walked in like we always do, but the boy that had helped me up, kept his hand on my elbow as we took the steps to the 2nd floor and in to our classroom. The kids were all still so quiet. All morning, through math, then word work and writing, they were really quiet. Every now and then they'd ask again if I was OK. 

Later on, as we started reading, they were still somber. I had to snap them out of it!  I said "Hey guys! Remember when I fell this morning? Wasn't that hi-LA-rious? Ha ha ha ha haha ha haha!!!!!!!" I laughed at the visual I conjured up, of my shocked self laying on the sidewalk. And then, like dominoes, a chuckle spread though the room, turning into full-out belly laughs. 

I thought all day about how my kids reacted to the incident, how they remained respectful, and how they showed me their concern. They seemed worried all morning, until I got them to laugh about it!  I'll never forget how protected and loved I felt; my students stood by me and looked after me. 

It's gratifying to know that in the two months we've been together, my students and I have developed a relationship that allows us to care for each other and laugh together. And I salute their parents for the fine job they've done so far in raising kind children.

Humbled...

Take out your cellphones, please.

Last night, while in bed, I used mobile technology to get a quick answer.

Late Night with Jimmy Fallon was running a repeat of their July 7 show. A band called My Morning Jacket was the last guest. When they started to play Circuital, which I had never heard before, I was captivated by the intriguing way in which the song began. I often get hung up on certain pieces of melody, and I just had to know who these guys were.

Luckily, my Nook Color was at arm's reach. OK, the Nook is supposed to be a reader, and that is how I use it for the most part. However, I wanted to find the name of the song, and I wanted to hear it again, to affirm that I had indeed come across a sound that pleased me. I switched on the browser to my Nook, did a quick Google search, and there they were. A band and a song I had never heard before, and that I would certainly look in to further.

This morning, after reading the article Mobile Tech in Classrooms Boosts English Learners, it occurred to me, the same on-the-spot-let's-find-out could take place in my classroom. If my students were each handed mobile devices at the beginning of the school year - like Nooks, iPads, tablets or netbooks - their worlds would be made larger, and language learning would be enhanced.

Or, what if my students were permitted to use their cellphones in class? This past year, of my 19 fourth-graders, nine of them had their own cellphones. What if I devised activities where my students would be allowed to use their cellphones to access information, submit answers, collaborate and be even more engaged? Until mobile devices are provided to ALL learners, why not let us use what is already in our students' hands?

We Can Do Better

When I first welcomed him to our classroom back in September, "G" warned me, in all his toughness, "there's nothing you can do to make me like school". I was taken aback by his statement, but instantly took it as a challenge. We struggled the first several weeks as we got to know each other. He had to learn to trust me, while I had to figure out what set him off.

I learned quickly that G had two huge issues: divorced parents and what looked to me like dyslexia or dysgraphia. Which of the two? I'm afraid we never got to that. Although G had been referred to I & RS last year, all he got this school year was two marking periods of tutoring! I had him in my lowest reading group, gave him extra time at writing conferences, and tried different tactics for getting him through his literacy difficulties. (Classroom teachers are not necessarily equipped to address the needs of dyslexia and dysgraphia, unfortunately.) I also had to muster up some serious patience, especially at the beginning of the year, during his outbursts which involved shoving furniture, throwing school supplies, and trying to engage me in arguments. His little face would turn red, he would huff and puff, he would cry. He would tense up and pinch or squeeze his arm. ( I later recognized this as his attempt to control himself.)

I knew, of course, he acted out of frustration. He lived with his mother one week, his father the next. G clearly had a preference for his dad's place. I could easily tell on a Monday morning whose week it was, by the angry look on his face. His family situation, coupled with his learning difficulties, made for a very angry little boy.

As the year progressed, G did get better academically and socially. He did very well in math. He contributed very thoughtfully to classroom discussions. And although his independent reading ability was well below grade level, he developed a desire to read. I often found him engrossed in the Diary of a Wimpy Kid series, which took him way longer than his peers, but held his attention. He eventually overcame some of his distaste for school. His classmates often teased, "See?!! You DO like school!" He learned to curb his emotional outbursts and he practiced self-calming techniques.

I know we should have done more. As much as I advocated for G, my school was not able (or willing?) to address his needs more appropriately. Some forms were filled out, a few questionnaires completed, and ONE meeting held to discuss his case. By the end of the year, his case was left... open? hanging? in limbo?

G left for summer vacation a week earlier than his classmates, while I was still grading benchmark tests. He said "Bye Miss!" as he took off at the end of his last day, and that was that. My eyes later filled up at his response to a persuasive writing prompt, where he was to explain why our school is the best in town:

Also the techors here cold relle chang a person. Like me befor I cam to this school. I hated being in school. However, the techors changed me. I still don't like school but now I can't sae I hate going and being in school. Also the techers are alway fair about stfo.

This is the "stuff" that makes me want to do better.

School's out for summer

On this last day of school I wanted to say so many things to my students. But there were cumulative folders to fill out, books to put away, papers to file, a final assembly to attend, summer paperwork to distribute, and letters to send home. Sorry kids - your teacher didn't have a chance to share some last thoughts.

Five minutes before the bell rang, I said "OK guys. Last time I'm going to say it. Let's line up for dismissal." And all of a sudden I felt a little lump in my throat. I looked away to hide a tear that welled up, and started down the hall, downstairs, to the gym, where I delivered my kids every day for the past year, so they could catch their buses to various parts around town.

I grabbed the first child's hand, I'm not sure why, and walked with her like that until we got to the gym. She looked at our hands and raised them, saying "This is something I'm going to remember."  And with that, I hugged my 4th grade buddies, whispering a few special words to each, and sent them on their way. 

¡Adelante mis niños! 

Una visión

Every now and then, I'm absent from school to participate in professional development, workshops, training, or conferences.  Recently, I've signed on to work with my state's DOE on a special curriculum writing project.  Specifically, we're writing exemplar ESL units that match up language objectives with content objectives. It's both interesting and intense.

What I appreciate most about this experience is the way in which it makes me take a closer, harder look at the way I teach my ELLs. I'm finding that I'm on target most of the time, especially in the way I structure my lessons - providing plenty of scaffolding at the beginning, having a "big idea" in mind throughout, and relinquishing control gradually as my students take on more responsibility for their own learning.  At the same time, I recognize a few blind spots in my instruction, and I realize why they occur. The demands and goals of the general curriculum can often obscure the specific language needs of my ELLs.

I've been teaching for almost 21 years now, and while my eyesight has begun to fade ever so slightly, my vision for Bilingual Education has become clearer. I hope that, in spite of the negativity around me, I'll not lose sight of what matters. Good teaching, respect for kids and the way they learn, and ánimo will endure in my classroom.

Weather Conditions

Her face struck me, in a sad way, in an "awww" kind of way - 
downcast brown eyes forced me to see I had been thinking only of myself.
I was relieved at the thought of a snow day, even giddy -
many of us, overworked and unappreciated get to feeling that way
this time of year.
But not her, nor her little friends.
Several of them were downright disappointed at the possibility of NOT having school.
What kind of kid doesn't LOVE a snow day?
That would be the kind that sits in my room
looking at me expectantly for the next big thing...
prime numbers, possessives, paragraphs,
and PEMDAS.

Niña, I think to myself, I need this day. 

Maestra, she says with her eyes, I need you more.

Bitter fruit

I was recently at an informal gathering of coworkers, all of whom work at school in some capacity.  It was nice to see everyone in summer mode, wearing t-shirts, shorts, flip-flops... sipping on cold drinks and enjoying chips, burgers and dogs, fresh fruit, and key lime pie.  The relaxed atmosphere was very pleasant, something I know everyone needed after a long and stressful school year.

However, some of the conversation troubled me.  I was disappointed to hear some people talk so poorly about the kids they worked with.  I hated hearing some of them preface several negative comments with "these parents".  I cringed when one of them - the same one I've seen being downright abusive to children - talked about how much she "couldn't stand them".  A few of them even mentioned the many ways they "got away with" stuff all year... I don't even want to go in to detail. 

Some of us stayed quiet, listened, maybe raised an eyebrow.  We made eye-contact, some of us, and in that mirada said to each other, "look what they're doing to our kids".  Some of us, for whom teaching and advocating for children has become our life's work... nos quedamos calladas, we remained silent.

Inwardly, I was giving these gals a piece of my mind; I wish I could tell them to GO elsewhere with their bad attitude and mediocrity.  If only I could say out loud that I blame them for the way things have gone sour in this profession.  I wanted to say something. I wanted to speak up for the kids and their parents.  I wanted to tell them...

And if I had said something... would they have even listened?  I can only hope the summer rest will sweeten their outlook a bit.  It's not so much that I care about them - I'm thinking about the little kids they'll meet in September.

Me han dicho un dicho...

The Latin Baby Book Club is celebrating El día de los niños, El día de los libros over at their blog.  Please stop by and see how proverbs or dichos are an important part of literacy as well as culture. In Small Phrases, Wordly Lessons I share my thoughts on sayings - and the lessons they teach.  I also suggest a few books classroom teachers can use to anchor lessons about idiomatic expressions and proverbs.

La tecnolución

Ya hace unos dos o tres años que ando buscando maneras lógicas y auténticas para incorporar la tecnología en mi clase. No es fácil – uno tiene que estar balanceando las demandas del horario, las preparaciones y las expectativas de los exámenes, etc. Además, aunque tenemos las herramientas, las máquinas, y la facultad, a veces nos vemos rodeados de personas que temen o sospechan a la tecnología. Pienso que, comenzando de arriba, tiene que haber una actitud de ánimo y curiosidad para que la escuela en total se ponga las pilas para intentar cosas nuevas. Los que sabemos algo debemos de compartirlo y buscar cómo interesar a nuestros colegas.


No creo de ninguna manera en abandonar el libro, el papel, y el lápiz. Pero sí veo el entusiasmo y los ojos abiertos de mis alumnos cuando usamos los portátiles, cuando trabajamos en nuestro blog, cuando entramos a sitios increíbles en el Internet… todo haciendo que las lecciones sean más grandes y llenas. La tecnología se ha hecho gran parte de las vidas de nuestros alumnos; debemos aprenderlo y manipularlo. Al contrario, corremos el riesgo de quedarnos atrás. Yo planeo ser parte de la “tecnolución”…

Student to Teacher

I taught one of my favorite lessons today, and was reminded of how exciting it is to take children to the next level. The lesson was part vocabulary, part poetry, part metaphor, part Black History Month, part "this is your teacher telling you she wants you to keep trying".

We read this poem together. I choked up on the first read, as I always do. Hughes does that to me. We then read it in parts, we role-played, we talked about message and meaning, and the poet's use of the vernacular.

No, I don't teach high school English. I teach 4th grade English Language Learners.

"Did you like this poem?" I asked as the bell rang for lunch.

"Oh YES Miss! That's how my mom talks to me!"

"Now THAT's some good advice he gave in the poem."

"I LOVE how you read that Miss!"

"Can I keep the paper Miss? Can I memorize it?"

"Let's do another one tomorrow Miss!"


Mother to Son, by Langston Hughes (1902 - 1967)

Well, son, I'll tell you:
Life for me ain't been no crystal stair.
It's had tacks in it,
And splinters,
And boards torn up,
And places with no carpet on the floor --
Bare.
But all the time
I'se been a-climbin' on,
And reachin' landin's,
And turnin' corners,
And sometimes goin' in the dark
Where there ain't been no light.
So boy, don't you turn back.
Don't you set down on the steps
'Cause you finds it's kinder hard.
Don't you fall now --
For I'se still goin', honey,
I'se still climbin',
And life for me ain't been no crystal stair.

Passion becomes a problem...

An educator/blogger I've been following asks Where is the Passion?

It's a great post, but I felt a bit guilty when I read it. I had just posted a few days ago about how OVERJOYED I was that we had gotten a couple of snow days. I was that tired and frustrated; I needed a break.

It also felt like Mr. Anderson was writing about me. I'm that teacher who has become disillusioned. I've been thinking I can't keep doing this head-butting thing much longer.

If I were one of those folks who does what their told, enters and exits the building at the sound of the bell, doesn't speak up for the kids, doesn't speak up for the parents, and thinks "it is what it is" - well then, I wouldn't feel this way. School can be a lonely place when you're the only one sweating real issues.

I'm an idealist I guess. I still dream about pushing my kids up and out, guiding them to love books and words, learning together how to connect within and outside of the classroom with all of the tools we're fortunate to have. I can't look at school as a business, and I can't stand to hear another person tell me to "just lay low" and "do what you have to do".

That's too easy. And yet, when you let passion drive you, you get like me - overly contemplative, stressed out, and becoming bitter.

Thankfully, when I get to school tomorrow morning, and I see my kids' faces... passion will get a kick in the rear and fire up.

Snow Day - a Teacher's Best Friend

Back in September, I wrote one of those "I'm frazzled!" posts, and haven't recovered since. Nothing has changed. In fact, things may have gotten worse.

I don't know that non-teachers would ever understand the incredible relief and joy I felt when school was cancelled for the past two days due to snow. I wasn't the only one stuck to the television and weather websites on Tuesday night, crossing my fingers, thinking "Please, oh please... please let's have a snow day!" I imagined I could hear my colleagues shouting YESSSSS! in to their phones as we got our snow chain calls late that night.

How shameful, you might think. Teachers have it easy, you might suggest. After all, teachers only work until 3, have summers off, and enjoy several holidays built in to the yearly calendar. So why the giddy excitement over a snow day?

Classroom teachers have it bad. I'm serious. It's gotten so out of control that the "teaching-is-my-life" mantra I used to wear like a badge, has become "teaching's gonna kill me, and lots of the folks I work with." I'm not exaggerating. Spend a day or two in my shoes and see what's happening.

Were it not for the pure satisfaction in watching children grow as readers and writers, the eye-opening discoveries that occur in math class, and the simple sense of community that comes from relationship-building, I would have totally lost it by now. However, in the scheme of NCLB and the desperation of local administrators to raise scores, time spent teaching and learning has decreased dramatically, while test-taking and useless transportations of paper have taken over.

I teach after school twice a week, and on Wednesdays I stay after for the required monthly staff meeting, as well as one or two additional "staff development" Wednesday meetings, often at the whim of my principal. On the two other days, I stay in my classroom after hours to clean up, and to be honest, to catch up. One school day can result in an enormous mess on one's desk, with no chance to get to it during the day. During the week I reach my home exhausted, with no desire to do much of anything. And yet, you can find me at my desk, after dinner, doing school work until 10 or so.

Typically, I spend most of my weekend at my desk in my chilly basement, grading papers, doing research for my lessons, locating appropriate reading materials (I don't have enough books at my students' reading and English levels), calling parents, and marking the numerous district assessments I am obligated to give - as well as completing special answer sheets and tracking sheets and data sheets. I also spend the weekend preparing fundraisers, planning and organizing parent workshops, and completing referral forms. I should not leave out lesson-planning, which is the most time consuming of tasks. Those that wish to control, rather than see what and how we teach, require pages and pages of descriptive lesson plans. (My principal has not stepped foot in my room even once this year...)

So yeah, I wanted these snow days. I prayed for them, danced, chanted, and wished for them.

My Torture Chamber

I apologize to my loyal readers for not posting regularly in the past couple of weeks. I've been doing mean things to kids, all in the name of TESTING.

Here is a violent run-down of what's been keeping me occupied:

1. Squeezing in more math skills
2. Cramming in more writing
3. Force-feeding hideously long reading passages to "practice" comprehension
4. Killing the love of writing because they are making me teach formulaic strategies for responding to writing prompts
5. Hanging up signs, posters, and other "nice-looking" items on every available blank space, because an important person will be visiting next week
6. Slapping up extra vocabulary words on my Word Wall because K and X "are empty" and a few of the other letters don't have "enough"

I'm sorry kids, but they make me do it.

The mistreatment is self-inflicted as well. I've confined myself to my dark, damp basement to grade papers, do report cards, and write lesson plans. Meanwhile, it's 88 and gorgeous outside.

Our state test is scheduled to begin on May 4th. Until then, and until it's over, more gritting of teeth and relentless stress.

Can't wait to take back my classroom. Can't wait to read and write real stories and poems together. Can't wait for exciting math projects. Looking forward to returning to the kind of teaching and learning that actually means something.

Langston Hughes in the 4th Grade

My students have experienced several different types of poetic forms since September. I use specific poems and certain poem forms (haiku, list poems, auto-biographical) to encourage English language development with my ELLs. Since the beginning of the year, my students have made enormous gains in English proficiency. Even more remarkable, is that they have emerged as thoughtful writers and thinkers.

Yesterday I kicked off National Poetry Month with "Poem" by Langston Hughes. It's one of the most touching and simple poems I know.

Poem

"I loved my friend.
He went away from me.
There's nothing more to say.
The poem ends,
soft as it began-
I loved my friend."

The students discussed the poem in groups; they touched on how "short and simple" the poem was, and how sad, "even though the poet didn't even say sad!" I then asked them to write a five-paragraph essay about a time when they lost someone or something they loved. They got right to it, first planning, then writing their first drafts. I did not have to coax anyone to write. Writing flowed freely, even from the three children who are often reluctant writers.

I was able to conference with half of the class yesterday, and the rest today. I was floored by the quality writing they had produced! My students wrote about lost friends, lost relatives left back home in their countries, lost pets, and a lost necklace. While they read to me, some of them got a bit choked up, and some managed to provoke a tear or two in my eyes. (Of course, I had to look away, or pretend like I was distracted by something on the other side of the room!)

Several students started to publish their work today. The rest will do so tomorrow, I'm sure. And today we read another poem, Life Doesn't Frighten Me, by Maya Angelou. They loved it and want to write their own poems about their fears.

These days... are magic. There's nothing more to say.

How to Stay Sane...

During the course of the school year, we teach four types of writing - expository, narrative, persuasive, and descriptive.

The "How-To" piece is one we practice often; this type of expository writing forces the students to think of steps in a process, using sequence, transitional words, illustrations and examples. The "How-To" is factual and logical. We often start our students with prompts such as "How to make a sandwich", or "How to wrap a present", or "How to give a baby a bath". Then we move on to more sophisticated topics which stem from reading non-fiction text, such as "How to start a vegetable garden", or "How to build a bird feeder", or "How to make a home-made volcano."

All of these rely, of course, on background knowledge. You can't ask students to write about things they haven't experienced, or don't care about! But what if you asked the kids to think about how to make their teachers crazy? You know they're experts!

I was feeling somewhat frazzled last week with a billion things to do. We were all in need of a little levity. So I invited my students to write "How to make your teacher CRAZY!"

The results were fantastic. My students couldn't wait for writing time. With this piece, they moved more quickly than usual from planning, to drafting, to revising, to editing. During writing conferences, I laughed out loud at what they dared to think up!

This time, each and every student published their writing. I made a cut-out of a crazed teacher (looks familiar?) and put everything up on the bulletin board outside our room. This piece of writing, frivolous as it was, showed me what I needed to see. My kids have come a long, long way.

I'm crazy about them.

Walking in Papi's Shoes

I've shared another bilingual book review over at Latin Baby Book Club. Go there to read about The Woman Who Outshone the Sun/La mujer que brillaba aún más que el sol by Alejandro Cruz Martinez.

My father was gracious enough to be a guest reader at my school last week, along with my mom. He read this book to my students. Retired for several years now, Papi taught high school Spanish. I'm sure that reading to a group of 4th graders had to have felt quite different after spending so many years with hormonal teenagers. Papi was the perfect maestro though; he read at the perfect pace, pausing here and there to ask a question or show the illustrations.

My dad, a former teacher, read to my students, in his dress shirt, cardigan sweater, and pressed pants. As I watched and listened, it occurred to me that I too, wear that same outfit to school every day. Papi would carry a book and paper-filled briefcase to and from work; I lug home an about-to-explode book bag. Along with that, I use and reuse the same plastic Barnes & Noble bag to carry extra papers and such; Papi did the same I remember, using a shopping bag until it almost cried for mercy. When he was teaching, he carried so much stress around, and now, I do the same. At the same time, Papi was proud to teach the Spanish language and its rich literature. That is perhaps the most special gift he has given me.

My father took me to school. He led me to teaching. And when he read to my students, I had the pleasure of bringing him back.

Healthy Meals in 10 Minutes!

I asked my husband, who is also a teacher, what he had for lunch today. He told me he scarfed down a chicken sandwich and a diet soda from KFC, while in his car, driving from one school to another.

My lunch today consisted of a can of V-8, lots of hot sauce shaken in, and a hard, sour-dough pretzel, the kind that cracks a molar. Somehow, the meal satisfied. As my mother always says. "Cuando hay hambre, no hay mal pan." (When you're hungry, there is no bad bread.)

I only had about 10 minutes to eat. The kids were indoors for recess, and my school is WAY to big to walk ALL the way to the teacher's lounge. Besides, I avoid that space (bad vibes, mean people) unless, of course, someone has brought bagels or some other kind of goodies.

There's nothing like the occasional sunshine fund-sponsored breakfast or special event in the teacher's lounge. We don't admit it, but some of us make sure to stop in, as busy and frenzied as we are, to grab a bagel, a handful of cookies, or a bunch of grapes. (Teachers neatly place these on a small paper plate, covered with a napkin, to take back to their rooms... for their lunch.)

If it wasn't for these occasional treats, many of us would not eat at lunch time. I happen to know many of my colleagues are working through their lunch, there is so much we have to do. I see many of my coworkers gulping down cold coffee, or microwave oatmeal, or kid-size yogurts and juice-boxes, while they write lesson plans, correct papers, make phone calls to parents, and supervise their students for lunch detention.

My nutritious lunches are quite varied! They have been:
a handful of dried fruit, or
a fruit cup or snack-size applesauce, or
a cup of instant cinnamon-spice microwave oatmeal, or
a handful of pretzels, or
a stale Pop-Tart, or
a spoonful of peanut butter, or
V-8 (vegetable juice) with hot sauce, or
a small bag of Cheez-It crackers.

I've grown accustomed to these fancy little meals. However, every now and then, the lunch gods look down on me, and my husband hands me my red and black insulated lunch bag as I run out of the house. When I finally get to sit down at my paper-laden, disaster of a desk, I open the bag and find a clear container, holding the most beautiful salad - romaine lettuce, grape tomatoes, cheese cubes and almonds. He has also packed a plastic fork, a napkin, and a can of iced green tea.

For ten minutes, I am human again.