to this day

I am frequently overwhelmed by my power in the classroom. Sometimes, I feel the weight of being the only chance a kid has.

Yesterday at school, I was on cafeteria duty. I paced up and down the lunch tables, opening ranch packets, picking up snippets of conversation here and there. When something caught my eye. I slowly walked over to a table, trying not to disrupt the conversation taking place. The power of observation, the power of waiting before acting, is often my greatest ally. It was a boy, not in my class, talking to my newest student. She was staring at him intently, fingering her pepperoni pizza. I have learned, through the last few months, that the slightest gestures often mean something is wrong. Those small fingers, nervously picking at the crust, was what grabbed my attention. Slowly, I walked up behind him, and heard him discussing a dog. Something about a dog and pizza. I was so close to walking away, to letting it go, but something about all the kids just staring at him, listening to him, told me that I only knew a fraction of the conversation. My little girl looked up at me and nervously smiled, and that was it. I drew her aside and said, "What was he saying?" She looked embarrassed, and said, "He was calling me fat."

"How did he say it?" I asked her.

"He told me that I eat more pizza than a dog. That I take two whole boxes of pizza and take them to my bedroom and eat all of it. That's why I'm so fat."

It's like a beast welled up inside me. And it was angry. I was angry at all the boys and girls who ever said that, and other cruel things, to all the other boys and girls. It was heartbreaking. She didn't even cry or seem upset. It was like she had accepted his words, swallowed them, digested them.

I told her that it was an absolute lie. He is lying to you, don't you believe it for a second. I don't even know what else I said. I just remember the desperation in my voice, trying to convince her to spit his words back up. Don't let yourself be poisoned.

I brought the boy to the behavioral support staff and she told me, "He is so low, he has no clue that what he said was mean or hurtful." Maybe. Maybe he has been called names, and the person who called him names was called names, and that person was called names, and that person. I don't know.

I saw this video today, and it saddened me beyond belief. It saddens me that for some kids, school is not a safe place. It saddens me that teachers can be perpetuators of bullying; ignoring, pretending like we didn't hear, like it was a joke, like the kid is too low to understand what he is saying, or just move the bullied student to the back of the room and act like that fixes everything.

It doesn't.

Check out To This Day Project if you're interested in learning more.

My 2nd Grade Cheating Ring

*Names have been changed/omitted to protect the innocent guilty*

Some days, it feels like you spend all afternoon following the rabbit down the rabbit hole and it turns out the rabbit hole is a huge mess. This exact thing happened to me today.

It all started when one of my kids comes up to me and says, "Mrs. Westerfield, Isaac keeps asking Erin for her password to get on ST Math and Erin keeps saying no, but Isaac keeps asking."

You see, every day I have math centers--I split my kids up into three groups and while one group is with me, one group is doing an independent activity, and another group is on a math computer program called ST Math--and every day my kids type in their 16-pictures-long password to get onto the math program. This math program happens to be pretty important to our school: it provides data to the teacher and the school in order to prove to the state that we are improving as a school. Also, each student is on a different activity, depending on their level and how quickly they get through the levels. So, for example, they all start out on subtraction. But some kids are really good at subtraction, so they forge ahead. Some kids are on subtraction for awhile, because they need more practice. The computer program is constantly reading how well the students are doing and responding to their answers. 

So, when this sweet kiddo comes up to me to tattle about Isaac trying to get on Erin's username, at first I'm not too alarmed. Sometimes, Isaac is a twerp that way (a very lovable twerp). I'm talking to him, trying to figure out the whole story, when another girl, Emily, chimes in, "Mrs. Westerfield, Lanie (another little girl in my class), also gets on my ST Math all the time."

Chrystal: "She gets on mine too!"

Jessica: "Lanie gets on mine too!"

Lanie: "But Jessica gets on Gary's and John's all the time."

John: "I only gave her my password once."

Gary: "Jessica asks if she can get on mine and I always say yes. But I haven't gotten on anyone's!" (He said that last fact like it was something to be very proud of.)

And the next thing you know, it was like a train wreck. Every one was telling on everyone, and everyone was admitting to somehow being a part of this whole cheating ring happening in my classroom. I couldn't believe it. Only three kids out of my entire classroom had nothing to do with it. It literally took me an hour to sort through all the stories and accusations and confessions. 

Here's what I learned: Apparently, there are many ways to accomplish getting on another student's username. The first way, of course, is to simply ask for the password. The other way, is to watch what your neighbor is putting as their password and follow suit. And finally, the last way is to not completely log off of ST Math and when the groups switch, the next persons gets on the computer and just keeps going. 

Keep in mind, these kids are 2nd graders. 7 years old. When I was in 2nd grade, I wasn't nearly so crafty. When I asked them for the love of God, why?! were they doing this, they almost always replied that when they didn't want to do the level they were on, they could find someone who did. Ain't that the darndest thing.

So, we had a really long talk and I decided that they lost their computer privileges in January and informed them that they lost my trust (which some found incredibly devastating). As I think about it more and more, I am finding the humor in it. They honestly had no clue that they were messing up huge amounts of data, they were just doing what their cheeky little brains thought was a brilliant idea. Finally, the last 15 minutes of the day, I received 13 heartfelt apologies without any prompting from me! And I told them that I completely forgave them and that there are no hard feelings--but they had better believe that this naive first-year teacher isn't going to let a cheating fiasco happen twice! 

peace.

Peace begins with a smile.... -Mother Teresa

Some days are just so good. The coffee is so perfect. Your morning drive is graced by the sun hitting the golden mountains. My kids were so sweet today. We were all on the same, peaceful wavelength.

One thing I struggle with as a teacher (and maybe out in the real world too...)is making my voice and demeanor peaceful. I am naturally rambunctious. Loud. Sometimes it's great, like when I need to shout across the playground. Or when I am trying to get my kids excited about something super un-exciting. Or when singing a song and dancing. But most days, I work hard to soften my voice. To speak peacefully. While my heart may be at peace, I want to show it with my voice and actions.

I can't tell you how much I love those kids. I call them my kids and I really wish some of them were my own. I worry about them a lot. Like when one of my little girls got MRSA. And when another one was absent for three days because of domestic violence in her home. Stories like those happen all across America, all across the world. I sometimes wonder if I will ever be able to leave the teaching field. Children with terrible homes and hungry bellies will keep coming to school every year and someone has to love them and teach them to be peace-makers in a tragedy-ridden world. And I will always want to be that person.

My goal for my classroom--for my life--is to create a peaceful, lovely abode.

photo

Rattlesnakes, spiders, and bees, oh my....

Let's talk about the animals in my room.

No, I'm not talking about the class pet (I don't have one...just a plant). I'm talking about the living creatures that occasionally find their way into my classroom.

Now, let me tell you a little about my room. First of all, I work in a very beautiful school. Lovely white walls and wooden beams make it look almost Hispanic-Catholic-Mission-ish. But, if you were to go out the back door, across the rocky playground, and past the cement toilets, you would come to my classroom: a double wide trailer disguised behind wooden panels and a covered verandah. That's right, a double wide trailer. I'm not sure how I got the short end of the stick when it came to classrooms, but it happened.  I honestly had no idea that my classroom was half the size of everyone else's until a few months after I began working. And I just want to say that I thank the Lord everyday for bringing me to this job, seriously.

However, being in Siberia does have its perks: my class is rarely bothered by administration, wandering students, and the like. We have a super easy fire drill route. And I'm the closest to the buses, so we get in line first almost every day.

But the part that I can't stand is the part where every other day I am killing something. No, not a child, but a creature. I could be positive about the situation and believe that they like my room because I have created such a lovely environment. But that would be a lie.

My very first day at Ft. Thomas, the principal told me that the day before, a baby rattlesnake had been found INSIDE my room. Every time I think about that situation, I thank God I was not there.

Then, there are the spiders. Oh, yes, the spiders. And not just tiny little guys that occasionally get slightly bigger than tiny. I'm not even talking about daddy-long-legs. I'm talking about big, fat, mamma spiders with bodies the size of quarters! Luckily, my kids are fearless. When they see one, they say things like, "Oh, by the way, there is spider over there, Mrs. Westerfield." Meanwhile, my heart is starting to palpitate and my hands get sweaty and my knees are shaky. My reaction is always the same: I take off my shoe and squash it, all while continuing to teach. Ha.

And finally: bees. I have had three bees wander into my classroom so far this year. They are so sneaky. I work very hard to shut my door as quickly as possible to keep those bees out, but somehow they find their way in. Bees by far create the most havoc because they are so tricky to kill, I feel like I'm sparring. But each time I have taken off my shoe and popped the little sucker.

So, moral of the story is this: when a teacher, wear shoes that are easily removed.