Where's LifeTouch When I Need Them?

My online complaint to a different school photography company:

Hello, my daughter attends _______________________ High School in __________, Kansas, and in stark contrast to your advertised "no hassle" photo days, she was today, in fact, REFUSED the opportunity to have her school photo retaken. She was told by your representative that because 1) she wasn't purchasing photos (why would we purchase photos we didn't like, hence our decision to have her RETAKE them?) and 2) because she didn't blink or have hair out of place her photo would not be taken. Apparently your company doesn't realize that the problem(s) with her original photos are determined by US, her parents (and your potential customers)- who were frankly more than willing to allow you to take another photo today that we were likely to have purchased.

We were told by school staff that it is your company's policy that limits retake photo opportunities and that YOU determine who will therefore have flattering photos in the school's yearbook. Does this policy exist because there are too many customers who would want retakes, or in much more plain language: does your company take that many poor quality photos each year, creating monstrously long lines and time consuming photo sessions on Retake Day?

We are not happy- and are frankly disappointed that our daughter had to experience what she did today. She was looking forward to having her first school photo done over and spent extra time on her hair and clothing only to have your company refuse her and make her feel stuck with a picture that neither she nor we are happy with.

Not cool. And certainly not "hassle free."

Good thing I snapped a photo of her this morning before she left school (and no, the company hasn't replied):



LifeTouch, where are you?

I'm Following Thumper's Dad's Advice...

...because it's been *one of those days,* learning the ropes and observing the "dynamic" at my new school. (Thank goodness for my students and their families-they are TERRIFIC!)

"We Told You So" Doesn't Come Close to Covering It...

For those of you who can't "hear" my tone because you've never met me, let me assure you this is not one of my sarcastic, fired-up rants. It's been seven exhausting, depressing, ridiculous and in some cases, surreal years thanks to NCLB (No Child Left Behind). Seven years is apparently the exact amount of time needed to pass before our nation's policy makers, journalists, and titillating-gossip-only-news-junkies figure out that those teachers who have been complaining about and rallying against many of the horrible changes NCLB has wrought... are in fact, right. Teachers suspected what has now been confirmed: NCLB's policies were intentionally put into place to create nationwide failure among public schools in order to make school privatization more appealing to the public.

Jim Horn at Schools Matter shares:

... it just took Time Magazine seven years to ask someone on the inside if what we have been saying for seven years is true, but later is better than never, you might say. Susan Neuman, former Asst. Sec. of ED under Rod Paige, now admits that insiders at ED saw "NCLB was a Trojan horse for the choice agenda."

"Neuman gives no clue as to how she will make amends for staying silent during the past 7 years of educational genocide, as millions of children, parents, and educators have been brutalized by the policies she promulgated and promoted."

*****

From the Time Magazine article (with bold emphasis mine):

There was always something slightly insane about No Child Left Behind (NCLB), the ambitious education law often described as the Bush Administration's signature domestic achievement. For one thing, in the view of many educators, the law's 2014 goal — which calls for all public school students in grades 4 through 8 to be achieving on grade level in reading and math — is something no educational system anywhere on earth has ever accomplished. Even more unrealistic: every kid (except for 3% with serious handicaps or other issues) is supposed to be achieving on grade level every year, climbing in lockstep up an ever more challenging ladder. This flies in the face of all sorts of research showing that children start off in different places academically and grow at different rates.

Add to the mix the fact that much of the promised funding failed to materialize and many early critics insisted that No Child Left Behind was nothing more than a cynical plan to destroy American faith in public education and open the way to vouchers and school choice.

Now a former official in Bush's Education department (Neuman) is giving at least some support to that notion.

*****

Horn also links to TeacherKen who wraps up his blog post:

"No Child Left Behind has been very destructive to many of America's public schools. And to have someone as connected as was Susan Neuman acknowledge that for some supposedly dedicated to the well-being of our schools and students it was instead serving as a vehicle to attempt destroy the public schools (and thus a chance at a meaningfully improved economic future for many of our young people) strictly on ideological grounds is something about which everyone should be aware."

*****

Some self-reflections about my job and responsibilities as a teacher as well as my responsibilities as a parent and the educational experiences I want my own children to have are posted here, here, here, and here.

****

No wonder I need a hug!

Have You Ever Lost a Day?

Feel free to check yesterday's blog for proof that *I* certainly have! Yes, yes, I appreciate your kindness- refraining from chucking a stuffed animal at me while yelling "Helloooo, McFly!" Sigh. It was a wonderful Monday, not Tuesday in fact. My brain did a time warp. The fact that I'd had a good day must have subconsciously registered to me that it couldn't have been Monday, because who has a good day on the first day of the week? Perhaps I just didn't have enough coffee.

Today is Tuesday. And I know why I'm "off" this morning. The toddler was up at 12:45 a.m. He was up at 2:15 a.m. Round three was at 3:05 a.m. Fittingly, round four was at 4:00 a.m. Daughter decided to sleep in because she *knew* Mom would come and wake her up. Didn't happen. Daughter woke ME up at 7:25 a.m. with "Mom! I missed the bus!" Who was asleep? Daddy and toddler. Thank goodness the coffee pot didn't die during the night. Cup of coffee number one was chugged on the way to school. It wasn't enough however to numb the effects of hearing the school's daily announcements over the intercom.

Imagine the dullest voice you've ever heard. Now imagine it droning on and on with a series of public-service-type announcements at 7:45 a.m., first class period of the day, at a junior high school. The counselor's statement ended with "Students, if you are being abused or neglected, know that there are people here at school who can help you. You can make an appointment with the school counselor to get help. Remember, you can have a good day, or not, the decision is yours." Followed by the principal with several announcements he thought sounded humorous (they weren't), concluding with "Teachers, please take this time to do a school uniform check in your classrooms. Make sure all students are wearing the school uniform appropriately. Check that undershirts are the required white color." Yadda yadda yadda yadda (in drone-tone). Ten minutes of mind-numbing "essentials" that frankly, made me wish I had some Kahlua in my coffee mug. Okay, a lot of Kahlua.

Who was walking in to the building as the morning announcements were wrapping up? Substitute teachers. Not kidding. Other tardy students walked by the office without signing in, and without stopping when teachers addressed them about their hoods, or shirttails hanging out. Wow, that dress code enforcement is really consistent, I tell you. Did I mention that in this very bi-lingual city, district, neighborhood, that the announcements were only made in English?

What worries me? In my mind, the dress code announcement/request by the principal (along with three other "reminders") could have easily been made via school email, at the last staff meeting, or in a morning bulletin (and so logically was only done over the loudspeakers as some sort of reminder/enforcement addressing students). Yes, the teacher in me wondered how much time was lost sitting through the babble. I also wondered how difficult it would be to get the kids on track and transitioned for classwork after getting their minds on (or off) track regarding their undershirts and possible personal states of abuse or neglect. I mostly wondered why any staff would choose to start each and every day in such a way. It was prison, not school. And the district wonders why students are disinterested, resentful, sneaky walking zombies.
When I was asked why my daughter was late, I replied that we had accidentally overslept (no, it's not a regular occurrence, in fact it threw me that it happened in the first place) to which the secretary replied rather abruptly, "well, it'll be an unexcused absence." The coffee kicked in. I replied with "that's fine, she is here, after all, and obviously instruction hasn't yet begun." Smile smile smile. It is apparently too much to ask that other adults with whom one interacts be polite. Positive. Happy even. While filling out the admit slip for my daughter, the secretary was asked by another staff member the location of a volunteer. The secretary replied "I told you, she's not coming in today until tomorrow."

Huh? Coffee. Need....more.....coffee.

I'm no Pollyanna, really. I'm sarcastic, and can be downright rude. But I know what kind of workplace I want to be a part of. I know what kind of feeling I want my children and students to have about school and their environment. I believe in the self-fulfilling prophecy. I believe in the Golden Rule. I believe we reap what we sow. And yes, I believe in standards, and trying to measure up to them. I behave accordingly, and do my best as a parent and a teacher privately and publicly, never perfect, but well-intentioned. My intentions are formed by experience, wants, likes, dislikes...information. Data. The general process tends to work for most people.

Perhaps not in the Bordertown. Instead of seeing this year as one full of "lost days," my family and I will do our best to put a positive spin on things (we've learned how "not" to be, after all), and will look forward to our next military move with anticipation.

Thank you for letting me vent! I'm off to get my 100th Blog Post Giveaway photographed so I can pretend this is Wednesday and get it posted for you to see- after the eye-strain I've put you through, you certainly deserve a treat!

Using My Teacher Voice

I have a teacher voice. A mommy voice too. Being a kindergarten teacher and mother means that my "voice" doesn't match the voice of a drill sergeant, doesn't match the voice of a ticked off assistant principal in a high school, and certainly doesn't match the voice of an assertive police officer in a touchy situation. I have to *explain* as I make a request, because the young ones I tend to deal with don't have as much background knowledge or frames of reference that will clue them in quickly to what I need modified or addressed. Emergency situations are an entirely different matter, as no one misses or ignores any tone I use with alarm, and no one needs an explanation before trying to determine if they feel any motivation to respond as quickly as possible when they hear me use it.

We attended my daughter's Christmas band concert this evening. It might have been an enjoyable event if only the audience's behavior wasn't such a long, drawn out train wreck. My blood pressure rose as my anticipation of my daughter's performance plummeted. Teens and their siblings ran through the audience in the gym, running up to orchestra and band members snapping pictures on cell phones as the performers were warming up and tuning their instruments. Parents loudly chatted, played with cell phone ringers (no, they weren't turning them off), and ignored their offsprings' shouts, inappropriate comments and choice of vocabulary. I withstood four hits to the back of my head from teens running up and down the bleachers, not a single apology uttered once. Full-fledged conversations were being had in regular speaking voices throughout the first two musical pieces performed, and those of us who turned around to look at the chatters got rolled eyes, laughter and pointing as a response. Finally, I put my hand on a student's foot (he had been kicking my side tapping his foot offbeat to the music) and whispered "Sweetheart, it's not your turn to talk or make noise, it's your turn to listen." I followed it with a smile, and received a quick blush and nod in return.

My teacher voice worked on one student out of nine. You see, once young Master Foot was seen correcting his behavior, his cronies had to get louder and more obnoxious, perhaps in some attempt to avenge his honor. And every parent around me *let it go.* I watched a handful of other parents try to move inconspicuously away from other obnoxious teens and children, to no avail. There was no escape, no quiet area where we could listen for our child's solo, listen to inspiring music, or enjoy the progress the band had made since the beginning of the year. I just about left the concert in tears, only because my other reaction would have been to have taken children by the collars to their parents and demanded an answer to "what the he** are you thinking?!?!?!?!?!"

I spent the first ten years of my life in this very Bordertown, living on the "poor" side of the mountain, maybe a mile from where we're posted now, so I know it wasn't always like this. I remember when the haves and the have nots equally spent time raising children to be welcome. Immigrant or local, English-only, Spanish-only, or bilingual speakers, all parents, grandparents, and neighbors encouraged (required!) children to say "please, thank you," and "apologies." "Excuse me," "no thank you," yes Ma'am, yes Sir," were also regularly heard and rewarded with "what good manners you have!" Young children were left with babysitters, children old enough to attend performances were expected to sit still, save questions for later, and make necessary comments quietly. They understood the audience wasn't there to see them, they were there to see the performers. Every school-aged child in the district attended two theater performances a year as a district requirement, and yes, we knew the expectations our teachers and families had of us. No longer, apparently.

As a side note, I'll offer that it's difficult to keep an audience on track and engaged when both the band and orchestra directors apparently have no clue when it comes to the choreography required when beginning, intermediate, and advanced musicians all perform on the same night, in this case, on the same gym floor. I'm fairly certain my old orchestra teacher, Mr. H., has passed on, and is probably rolling in his grave. If Mr. A. is still alive and kicking, he's certainly been admitted to the Looney Bin by now if he's witnessed performances like this, by both students and directors alike.

So, using my teacher voice, here are some suggestions (not that the local teens, teachers, parents, or musical directors care):

1) Please learn that there are times when it's your turn to talk, and times when it's your turn to listen. You don't always get to choose which times happen when. Consideration isn't a sign of weakness, it's a sign of respect, respect you'll receive in return.

2) Even if no one has formally taught you how to behave at concerts, plays, debates, worship services, or meetings, it's okay to read the cues provided by the seemingly more reflective, calm, and observant audience members, and follow their lead. No, Joey belching out the alphabet during a band performance of the Hallelujah Chorus is not the best choice of role model. Sorry.

3) There is a difference between a musical or theatrical performance and a pep rally. Therefore there is a difference between the behaviors demonstrated at those events. Figure out the difference, and behave accordingly.

4) Just because your sister told you that Mary Jane was going to dye her hair blue before a concert doesn't mean that once you get to said concert you need to shout out at EVERY inopportune time "HEY MARY JANE, LOVE THE DOPE HAIR! WOOT WOOT!" Either quietly admire the hair, or laugh about it under your breath, but either way, talk to Mary Jane AFTER the concert please. She'll wait. Really.

5) School band concerts are actually not precursors to American Idol audience tapings, Jerry Springer reruns, or reality show soap operas. If you're in the audience, I'm sorry, but it's not about *you*. It's about the people who have practiced, learned, developed and are sitting on stage now sharing with others. You don't get the stage, therefore you don't get the attention. It's not your turn all of the time, no matter what You Tube, MySpace, and your lazy or absent parents have led you to believe.

6) Band and orchestra directors, when you're rotating different groups of performers in and out of the performance or "stage" areas, *stop rearranging the furniture* and taking twelve minutes (yes, TWELVE) to rotate thirteen students out and twenty-three students in. It's very easy. Set up ALL of the chairs and music stands you're going to need. Then either choose to seat ALL band members, regardless of skill level together on stage, with students only performing when it's their turn (yes, those not performing are capable of sitting quietly with their instruments across their laps), OR center the beginning group in the middle of the seats, leaving the extras empty, and then have them all walk off, row by row, to the left after their performance while the next group of students is walking on-stage, row by row, from the right. If the next group is bigger, they'll take up more seats, but can still seat themselves center stage. Takes a *little* practice, but the end result is faster, safer, more efficient, and more professional than the thudding, crashing, and bashing of chairs, stands, and instruments (!), and the barking of directions to students too nervous to be listening and understanding clearly.

TWELVE MINUTES? No *wonder* you couldn't get the audience back for the closing pieces! DOPE HAIR, MARY JANE!!!!!

Oh wait, that wasn't my teacher voice, was it?

Flies and Sugar

My mother used to tell me "you can catch more flies with sugar than with vinegar." Sometimes she substituted "honey" for "sugar," but vinegar always stood firm. As a child I never wondered about the meaning, I just wondered what in the world my mother was doing TRYING to attract *flies*! As I grew older and became interested in making more friends in school, I realized that if I smiled, offered a helping hand, or witheld a verbal or physical "zing" in response to to any offense, I (at the very least) earned polite avoidance from would-be bullies or ill-tempered classmates. Thankfully, I managed to go above and beyond the bare minimum response and made some amazing friends who vibrantly color my school memories from Barrow, Delta Junction, Fairbanks, and beyond to this day.

As a teacher I've followed the Golden Rule even when it wasn't the easiest decision to make, nor my first reaction. I've remained patient, bitten my tongue, and politely steered when necessary. I've taken the time to listen, even if the subject was off-topic, or was a tool of avoidance on the parents' part. Behaving this way has been my investment in my students, their families, my colleagues, and my job. Extra time and patience in the beginning makes it more efficient later on. Parents don't jump to conclusions, don't knee-jerk react, and colleagues don't feel they are working in a hostile environment. Relationship building doesn't necessarily mean we like eachother, but it does mean we choose to get along and follow an acceptable set of social rules. Parents might think my teacher dresses are a little hokey at times (hey, five year olds LOVE turkey and Pilgrim dresses in November!), but they know their children are safe and eager to learn with me.

After my job as teacher has ended, I've gone on to enjoy friendships outside of school with former parents as well, staying in touch, bending an ear, sending cards, going for coffee... which is when I've been able to shift my persona and responsibilities from professional teacher to sincere friend. As a side note, I'm a little quirky in that regard: I don't believe in "crossing the line" during the school year. I don't attend Tupperware, Longaberger or even Pampered Chef parties, nor do I go out to dinner or visit my students' homes until I'm DONE being "the teacher." Mutual respect of privacy is a good thing, though as a kindergarten teacher, there's not much about a child's home life that I don't know about after the first two weeks of school. (Parents, remember there is a "pretend" or "house" center in my classroom. Just as you see replays of "me" each evening as your child plays in his/her room, I see replays of YOU daily!)

As a mother, I have enjoyed the professional courtesy given to me by my friends and colleagues with whom I've worked. I've known which teachers have the most complimentary teaching style for my childrens' personalities and interests, I have had the inside scoop on school activities, programs and policies, and I've been privy to the "real" bottom line educational information that falls under Teacher-ese headings such as "curriculum," "standards/benchmarks," "assessments," "percentiles," "sub-groups," "schema," "cognition," "literacy," and "advanced placement." I get *details* and am not merely told if my children are "doing well in school" and thanked for my support.

After defining, setting, and following my own personal and professional standards, I will admit to enjoying coming in under the radar when we move somewhere new and I'm visiting my childrens' schools for the first time. I watch and listen as teachers and support staff help register students, give tours of the building, and explain the rules and school policies. I'm very pleased when I hear a common-speak that flows between Teacher-ese and the language of parents and families. It shows me that other teachers, school staffs, and administrators (districts?) have made that investment in their students and families (or are building upon it) that I make each year with my own class. It usually doesn't take too long after talking with a teacher or school administrator before I'm discovered however, and then the sharing of the inside scoop begins. My poor kids roll their eyes, ask if they can look for their lockers and seek out the band room as I talk, teacher to teacher, with my new partners in education. Borrowing from Martha, it's been "a good thing."

Our family attended our daughter's mandatory volleyball meeting earlier this evening. Following the school's initial punitive and reactionary tone from the first week of school, the coaches and presenters continued by showing all parents in attendance a twenty minute video required by the district. Various school and sports representatives made it very clear via video that they expected us, the parents, to "be better spectators and parents" by not "ridiculing or intimidating another team or its fans," understanding that "holding a ticket to a school event is not a license to assault others verbally or to be otherwise obnoxious," and not yelling at our childrens' coaches. Just more proof of how things have changed since I was in school. My parents would have never embarassed themselves, me, or my teammates by behaving horribly, and none of my coaches yelled at or berated me to try to get some desired response. My friends didn't boo, but they did cheer louder for my team than the other, and we all shook hands and went out of our way to either be good hosts or good guests when road trips took place. Alaska may be a very large state, but it's a very small community. You either know someone personally, or you know someone who knows someone from each town, village, city or borough. Being nice... "sugar..." matters.

Yes, I understand that this school's and district's tone has been set by whatever happened before our family arrived here, but my "sugar/vinegar" alarm has been going off for almost three weeks now, and I'm becoming depressed by the thought that there is a very good chance it will not cease in the next nine months.

Closing comments from this evening included a promise from the coach that she'd make sure volleyball was fun for the girls this year because NEXT YEAR with "that other coach" was going to be "rough." WHAT?!?!?! She also asked that we NOT call the principal or athletic director for the school district until we had talked to her first. Fair enough, but her reasoning was this: if we need to know why she "yelled at" our children during practice or during games, it would be more appropriate to ask her directly than to go and complain to others.

I understand the flies and sugar. Now I'm wondering what kind of eighth grade volleyball requires yelling, verbal reprimands, and possibly public humiliation as coaching techniques.

Catch a CLUE about Kindergartners

There are as many different perspectives as there are people and animals in the world, right?

Which makes what I've been pondering for the past few years frustrating: how do people (leaving other animals out of the equation for the time being) reach agreement on "big issues" so that we can best function and work toward a common goal? Let's use education and teaching for this examination.

There are at least twelve different grade levels in the public school system. There are different developmental stages that most humans experience (and observe others working their way through) over the course of a lifetime. Most teachers and other adults acknowledge and generally comprehend which differences exist between a kindergarten student and a fifth grader, between a second grader, and an eighth grader, between a seventh grader and a senior in high school, thanks to Vygotsky, Piaget, heck, even Freud and the college professors who introduced many of us to their findings and assertions! Curriculum materials, social scripts, vocabulary are all supposed to be geared in an appropriate way for each age group or grade, and there **are** differences to be found in all of the materials offered up to students in grades very near to one another. First graders build upon skills learned in kindergarten, second graders build upon skills developed in the first grade and kindergarten before that, etc.

But many teachers, administrators, parents, and politicians tend to blur the lines when it comes to what they (teachers et al.) want from and expect of children. Students are now expected to reach A.Y.P. no matter their age or grade. To quote a former student of mine, "Teacher, how come the principal keeps telling me about L-M-N-O-P?" Yes. "L-M-N-O-P." The response that popped into my head was "Because Honey, the principal has no clue what kindergarten students think, see, or feel, because if she did, she wouldn't be wasting your time with fifty dollar words and abbreviations that make no sense and are of no relevance to how you perceive your school experiences." No, I didn't say it. I had some other, more developmentally appropriate answer for her that 1) reassured her that she wasn't in trouble and that she'd understand when she was older (because yes, she appeared concerned that she had upset the principal) and 2) kept me from jeopardizing a nice letter of recommendation for future use.

Number crunched data obtained from students in abnormal testing situations once per year (or MUCH more often!), or obtained from a computer program that cannot and does not take a student's personality, needs, quirks and feelings into consideration are considered very accurate and reliable indicators of who and what those students are. Of what they are capable, of what they "need" in order to make L-M-N-O-P. So tests and computers are the most utilized "tools" in schools now. And all children, regardless of age or grade, are expected to use them efficiently and accurately, as well as operate within the school's own set of rules and expectations. "Accomplish NOW." "A magic sprinkling of perfect-walking, perfect lining-up, perfectly-quiet-in-the-hallways, perfect potty-flushing, perfect indoor-voices, perfect test-taking, perfect social-skills" dust has been dumped on your heads as you walked in the door. No matter your age, your previous life experiences (or lack thereof, after all, some of you are only five years old), your cultural background, your socio-economic status, or your gender, you WILL be PERFECT. Because I said so. And if you're not, I get to yell. A lot. Or blow a whistle at you. Or berate you and your teacher for not making sure that you behave PERFECTLY. Oh, and hey, YOU obviously didn't try hard enough, and neither did your parents because YOU are part of the sub-group that made US fail to meet L-M-N-O-P." No pressure. And don't you find the message oh-so-appropriate for children of all ages?

This type of message wouldn't work for any adult in any workplace- in fact, it would be considered abusive. A lot of employees would quit, transfer, or, if forced to stay in the job by financial need, would do the bare minimum each day and dread every moment he or she had to spend on site. How do people in the arena of public education, those guides for our children, allow who and what children ARE to be replaced by percentages and data sheets? Relationship building, once so important, and necessary for helping keep students IN SCHOOL and keeping parents and families involved, has been thrown by the wayside. So in walks the discrepancy that has been frustrating me for a while now and that makes me wish I could say the following things in the following situations:

"Excuse me, but your students aren't displaying appropriate audience behavior."

Response: Thank you for noticing. Appropriate audience behavior is a skill that needs to be practiced and developed over time. Obviously my students have not had such practice before coming to my class this year. Have you noticed how eager they are? Behaving as all NORMAL children do when thrust into a new situation? They're looking, they're expressing themselves verbally, they're stimulated by all of the new faces, sounds, the decor, and it's all hitting them like a freightrain. And somehow you expect them to sit quietly, eyes forward, and participate in choral responses they've never heard before. Hmmmmm...... we'll be WORKING ON IT.

"Your student wouldn't answer me! So I told him/her that I was going to talk to his/her teacher and we'd get this straightened out because I expect all students to respond to me appropriately and follow our school rules!"

Response: Thank you for bringing me your concern. And please, let me tell you what realm kindergarten students are in when they see an adult, who is a stranger, coming down on them like a ton of bricks.

1) If the child is from a large family, where using loud voices is probably the only way he or she is heard.... or where parents have to use loud voices to get the child's attention because of the mayhem in the house... that child is going to NOT HEAR YOU, **OR** WILL TUNE YOU OUT JUST LIKE HE/SHE DOES TO HIS/HER PARENTS. It's not a conspiracy. I promise. Most five year olds don't wake up each morning thinking "Oh yeah, I think I'll mess with the third grade teacher today- she thinks she's got authority over me, but when that bell rings at recess, I'll show her who's the MAN." Stop taking it so personally. As much as you hate it, you're not that important a person to my students. Why not? Because **I** am. Most parents and adults who deal with young children understand that kindergarten students still occupy their own universes. Learning to share resources, toys, and a teacher's attention requires each child's acceptance that he or she is no longer the king or queen of his or her domain. Yep, it's a real "stage." Developmental even. **I'm** lucky to have been given permission to wear the crown! As a result, I too, live in the ME-ME-ME world: My students will respond to ME. They will watch ME for my signals, for my facial expressions, and will work primarily toward obtaining my acceptance. See, it's really MY world (wink!)! Put down your whistle, take a deep breath, count to ten. Eat some chocolate.

2) If the child has never experienced some stranger (yes, YOU, even if you wear a name-badge, even if you walk in the same hallways that we do each day- you're a STRANGER) telling him/her what to do, demanding behavior of him/her, and forcing a consequence on him/her for behavior and skills still being learned and fine-tuned, the child will be scared. Terrified in some cases. Which is apparently what many teachers are hoping for. They want to scare children into "behaving." Most kindergarten students will not be scared into "behaving." They will be scared of YOU. They will be scared of school. And they will dread the thought that if they're "good at school" and finish kindergarten, first, second, or whatever grade, they get YOU as their next teacher. Nice going. Way to get those kids happy, involved, eager to please, and performing optimally for your L-M-N-O-P. Oh and by the way, you turn me into their defender, instead of their guide and teacher. Thanks so much for building an aura of fear into a place where children are a captive audience for at least twelve years. I'm sure they'll want to fulfill your expections (and become healthy, productive, life-long-learners) just the way you want. Yes, that would be sarcasm.

3) By the way, would you EVER let another person speak to you the same way you spoke to and about my student? Yes? Then get a spine and the voice to back it up. If you wouldn't, then why on Earth would you ever consider speaking that way to a child who lacks the emotional coping skills to deal with what you are saying and how you are acting? Hellooooooooo, McFly! How would you feel if a teacher spoke that way to your child? Your niece or nephew? Your grandchild? If it wouldn't be okay for them, it's NOT okay for anyone else (hello Golden Rule!), whether you're in a grumpy mood or not. Oh and by the way, if it WOULD be okay for your child or any of your other relatives? Your parenting skills aren't the only ones out there. Some parents will NOT appreciate your approach. And they would be correct. And yes, you'll have to respect their input and directives when they correct you, even though you won't agree with it. And you'll have to compromise. You're a grown up. Do it.

4) Were you aware that there's a great big world out there? Full of different cultures, different languages, different abilities and disabilities? As you raise your voice with my students, I hope you remember that yes, to some, you really ARE speaking Greek! To others, you're moving your facial muscles in a really interesting pattern, because hey, they can't hear you. For some of my culturally diverse students, your insistence that they look you in the eye, or refrain from moving backward as you invade their personal space is considered MISBEHAVIOR in their homes. And no, being five year olds, they're not used to discriminating between home, family, and school yet, though I can guarantee that they're certainly developing a strong bias against YOU. Ever heard of ADD? Autism? Auditory or visual difficulties? How about speech and language delays? Learning disabilities? Of course you have. Now, tie into your professional knowledge the following reminder: my students are only five years old. Not thirteen, not twenty-three. Not forty-five. FIVE. They do not, and will not have the skills to self-moniter or self-accomodate in order to address whatever their individual needs might be. Right now, they're still trying to remember that it's okay to leave the blocks center to use the bathroom in enough time to prevent an "accident."

5) You are a role model. And you're modeling horrible behavior. You've just taught my students that grown ups tattle after throwing their own hissy fits. You want my students to "know" you're "right." Well, you've taught my students that you will threaten them, and no, they won't think you're "right" to do it. Because little kid logic is an element in and of its' own. You want a kindergartner to think like you? To walk around in your shoes? Dream on Baby. YOU need to get down on your knees and crawl around in the classroom, the hallways, and on the playground, not because I'm trying to make you submissive or punish you, but because you need to see the world through a five year old's eyes. And remember, you're still probably half a head taller than my students when you are on your knees. You have a lifetime of experiences and coping skills (kind of) that they don't. That they won't for years to come. Who knew the ceiling was really that high? Who knew the teachers were really that frighteningly tall? Who knew the water fountain was so hard to operate with such tiny hands? Who knew how hard the walls were when older and bigger students pushed you into them? My students will not learn how to put themselves in the shoes of their friends, their teachers, or anyone else in two weeks' time. Get used to it. And by the way, put yourself in their shoes. Regularly. You'll be a better teacher and person if you do.

I belong to a profession whose members can't make up their collective minds HOW to "be" with students. With children. These are smart, highly educated adults, professionals. Who read the journals. Who read the articles. Who attend the inservices. Who share the books and recommend educational authors. Who have forgotten that the children they serve are human beings, and not numbers to crunch. Who have themselves, broken every appropriate rule when it comes to building trust, encouraging imagination, and helping the whole child and their families, emotions and all. Who then look at children today and say "I remember when students were well behaved. I remember when kindergarten students knew the rules. I remember when...." all the time.

Here's a hint to educational old timers, teachers, administrators, politicians and parents alike: When you start saying "I remember when" phrases with negative follow ups about your students and mine every day, it's time for you to quit. You've lost the big picture, you're burnt out, and you, yes, you, are doing more harm than good. You're not a failure, you're just DONE with this part. Time to regroup. Move on. Solve the problem, shift the paradigm. You know, the way you expect all children to be able to do. Right now.

And of course, most of you won't quit. You need your retirement. You need your paycheck and it's too difficult to "start over" again. Or, you're too lazy. Hmmmm.... now you've taught the kids that it's okay to do a bad job. To settle. To hurt others because of your own lack of initiative. And you wonder why children behave the way they do. I think the kids have gotten the message loud and clear, and frankly, I'd appreciate it if you'd keep your mixed messages to yourself. Please stay out of my room, stay out my students' faces, and let me, and my kids, do our jobs. Safely. Emotionally and physically. Effectively. On an appropriate timeline, not your ridiculous one-size-fits-no-one model. If you'd like some recommended titles or authors to help you reconnect with the mindset of young children so that you can return to your days as an effective and respected teacher, let me know. But stop with the bullhorns and barking. I for one, am NOT scared. I for one, know better. I know the truth and the bottom line. And it's not "A.Y.P."

It's "L-M-N-O-P."