Panic at the Disco

My students have incredible voice. They don't always apply it in their writing, but look out when they get passionate about something and start telling you about it...

4th grade girl with major personality: Mrs. D, my birthday's comin' up next month and my Momma's gettin' carried away like she always does for stuff like this.

Me: Really? Well, I think it's ok to get a little carried away for your birthday, right?

4th grade girl: Look, I told her, I said, "Momma, I jus want a quiet evenin' at home, ok? Maybe a few friends over and some cake," But NO, she has to go and make all these plans. You should SEE our house! She's already started decoratin' and it's gettin' outta hand.

Me: Oh, I think it sounds sweet that she wants to make your birthday special.

4th grade girl: Yeah, I guess, but Mrs. D? She's doin' it like a time machine. Like those things that you had when you were little. Ya know? Our house. Looks. Like. A. DISCO!

I wasn't aware that we had, you know, discos in the 80's.

The Arm Rule

Oh, elementary school, how I am adjusting to you.

Middle school kids don't exactly want to be very close to you. They have a fairly decent-sized personal space bubble and remain a safe distance away.

Elementary kids? Elementary kids sneak up on you with their stealthy little feet only to make their presence known when they sneeze in your ear. Or worse...when they breathe right in your face.

Just last week I had one of my dearest little 4th graders approach me before school began. She was about a foot and a half away from my face (already too close for comfort) when she leaned even closer and whispered, "Mrs. D, I threw up all night and this morning and my Grandma says I should go to the nurse after 10 this morning."

Well, at the word "threw" I began holding my breath until I got red in the face, moved away from her, and took in clean, fresh, non-germinated air. Now, I am somewhat of a hypochondriac, but I've also spent my first years teaching catching a whole host of viruses and bugs without sick children breathing in my face.  I love my kiddoes, but I will not add to the probability of catching things.

So now we have the arm rule in my classroom. Whenever you approach Mrs. D, you must remain an arm's length away at all times. And because their arms are so short, for them it is an arm and then an extra hand's length away.

I hope no one important ever walks in.

Because when the kids stick their arms out like that to make sure they are far enough away?

They kind of look like Hitler Youth.

If Only...

If only we had more funding,
If only we had no unions,
If only we got the best and brightest of the bunch,
If only we had unlimited resources,
If only we didn't have to deal with parents,
If only we didn't have to deal with behavior,
If only we didn't have all that paperwork,
If only the teachers before us had done their job,
If only No Child Left Behind worked,
If only there was no state testing,
If only,
If only,
If only...

There's a plague among American educators called blameitonsomeoneelse-itis. In classrooms and workrooms across the country sit angry, bitter, tired faculty and staff who are playing the blame game. They are playing the what ifs, the if onlys, and the only thing that it seems to be affecting? Increasing negativity.

Thankfully not all individuals in education are like this, but there are far too few of them.  They are the administrators, teachers, aids, and secretaries who know that it does nothing to blame; to say "if only." They know that the time spent complaining is time lost from planning, collaborating, thinking, and making a difference.

We can have summits and conferences and debates in the government and the private sector about how to fix education and "who's to blame," but until we stop pointing fingers at others and start pointing them back at ourselves, it seems as if nothing much is going to change.

Yes, there are issues that must be dealt with in education: and they're whoppers. In the meantime, though, change can be occuring in small pockets everywhere by asking, "How can I do the very best that I can with my students, with my resources, and my circumstances, right now?"

Then, and here's the hard part: we have to actually do it.