That's a Wrap

 

... and that's a wrap.  My 2020-2021 school year is over.  My annual tradition of decompressing at the end of the year as summer begins by reflecting upon and blogging the lessons I've learned is still exerting some pull over me because, well, habits are habits, but goodness... this year has been a doozie. 

I started with twelve "all mine" remote-learning kindergarteners at the beginning of the year, and by the end, finished with seven original Dream Teamers and two mid-year transfers.  In total, I taught forty-eight students, several of them repeat visitors due to multiple exposures to COVID-19.  Because my exposure when Dear Husband tested positive occurred over winter break, my absences from work were limited. The subs I had on those days were brave, turning themselves into instructional hosts akin to Mr. Rogers on the television screen, though I suspect they were glad that I didn't ask them to put on puppet shows.  

I watched colleagues who taught students on-site at the ends of two long hallways empty their classrooms of furniture and engineer six feet of distance between their students while trying to remember to create and maintain distance between themselves and their learners, the absolute opposite of what any of us were trained or wanted to do.  I witnessed grade-level planning happening with team members standing in their classroom doorways, shouting through masks to one another as they collaborated. I saw the encouragement of confidentiality when colleagues tested positive and/or became ill and for the first time in my career, read not only care and concern in the eyes of teachers and staff when they discovered a colleague would be out of the building for two weeks, but fear. Was I exposed to COVID?  How close were we when we walked to the gym/staff lounge to put our lunches in the refrigerator?  I unsuccessfully tried to calm my anxiety every time a staff member forgot to wear a mask, or chose to mis-wear one because their personal discomfort (or belief that COVID19 was a global hoax) was an inconvenience against which they decided to semi-passively rail.  My need for self-care grew exponentially each time my self-preservation button was casually brushed up against. 

I signed many more sympathy cards than in years past as colleagues lost their parents and grandparents.

I eventually conceded to the utilization of a predictable daily routine, complete with scripted Google Slides that were created a week in advance.  Spontaneity just didn't work for families who needed and wanted to rely upon a school schedule that could mesh with their home routine. My remote-learning colleague was wonderful in helping to plan our students' lessons, activities and special crafts a month in advance, and we kept our communication with our families as consistent as possible. We did what we felt was best for both our students and our guest kindergarteners, and I believe our families could feel the care that we put into teaching.  Administrators didn't police us much, but I can't say whether that was by design or simply because we weren't starting any fires.  Having the autonomy to create our own learning program is an experience I doubt we'll ever forget. 

Tech being glitchy doesn't instill panic in me any longer.  Sometimes it's the platform or website that is having an issue.  Sometimes you just have to close out all the apps, shut down the iPad, and let it rest for a few minutes before powering it up again.  After the ninth new update to the operating system installs itself, the day continues, and so does the learning... in most cases.  I'm glad I was able to create digital resources not only for my students but for colleagues in the district who were able to use them in their on-site classrooms, and I will be forever grateful for all of the sharing teacher communities on social media who donated their own creations in kind.  My device and equipment list for the year included: 

• Laptop; laptop stand (purchased by me)
• iPads: teacher (it was my second screen for Zoom, displaying my students' faces, and often their parents' faces and backsides, with regular appearances from siblings, pets and stuffed animals) and student (so I could model all apps and step in as an initial help desk of sorts)
• iPencil: I fiddled with it once but never used it again, preferring to model writing and drawing using our regular writing tools 
• Logitech camera, gifted by admin at the Board Office: the extra camera made it possible for me to share other spaces in our classroom daily without giving everyone motion-sickness by carrying my laptop to a new location.  It could pan out to include a view of an entire wall of anchor charts, and zoom in close easily with its handy dandy little remote.  My students were able to see and experience storytime with big books and art lessons modeled by me using a regular kindergarten painting easel. I went from a laptop on a milk crate to a command station pretty quickly:

• Document camera: for displaying books, worksheets, etc. onto the....
• SMARTBoard: My daily instructional slides appeared as large as a bulletin board.  Students viewed the board through my laptop and Logitech cameras.  Video content was screen-shared from my laptop via Zoom.
  

• Microphone: speakers located in multiple ceiling tiles kept me from having to use my "teacher voice" in locations that weren't within the immediate vicinity of my laptop. 

• Additional camera (purchased by me) for a desktop computer that I used from my teacher's desk when my laptop was being repaired. 

I know that other remote teachers used fewer devices and equipment than I did, but I just couldn't bring myself to teach in a sitting position all day.  Having my laptop and Logitech camera on an old media cart in front of the SMARTBoard made it possible for me to stand, change locations in the classroom, and share more of our learning environment with my students.

This year became a standalone teaching experience for me, stretching from last March when the stay-at-home order was first issued through yesterday when I signed off of Zoom for the last time with my Super Stars and their families.  Despite some semblance of normalcy provided by curriculum, routine and even decor, I'll admit to having to look through photographs to remember a lot of the finer details of what happened this year.  So much has to be brain-dumped when you're literally trying to stay alive while having to appear professional as you're doing it.  My Super Star Families were gracious, supportive, and (almost all) on board with what Zoom Kindergarten had to be, and my decision to be a remote teacher for my twenty-fifth year in education and their decision to have their children be remote learners for their first year of school were the right ones for us.  I will always appreciate my district providing the remote-learning option that helped to support the health and safety of me, my family, and my Super Stars and their families. 

Even during a pandemic, it takes a village. 

Pandemic Teacher Summer Day 1: It's Time to Play in the Dirt

Yesterday I wrapped up my twenty-fourth year of teaching with one last visit to my school building (I had to deliver some yearbook payments that had been hastily grabbed from my mailbox on the day teachers were given a half-hour to grab essentials to help facilitate instruction from home), helped a fellow teacher take down her twinkle lights so she can transfer to another school in-district (we wore masks and I re-rolled the LED strands from six feet behind her), planned a very tentative instructional schedule with the remaining members of our grade-level team (two have left) during an informal and productive Zoom meeting from home, wrote and sent my last weekly newsletter to my Super Stars and their families, and held my last parent-teacher conference of the year before dinner, three hours after I technically stopped being my students' "official" teacher. A few last teacher-appreciation gifts made me smile:

This morning I woke at my normalish time, made coffee, and checked to see if there were any education Twitter chats planned but found my regulars on break for the Memorial Day weekend. For the past few years I've enjoyed #satchat and #sunchat get-togethers as transitions to the beginning of my summer break, but this year it seems I'm to dive right into my end-of-the-year reflection.  I reread my self-check from the start of the year and found all of it to still ring true.  The raw feelings of my last few posts since the stay-at-home order have started to heal and fade, and I remain determined to find some semblance of balance between my professional and home lives as I look forward to spending quality with my family, tending the food and flowers growing in my greenhouse and taking online courses addressing the creation of effective online teaching and content creation. No, no "summer off" for this teacher.

I'll update my district web page so that parents of my next class of Super Stars who go searching for sneaky-peeks into our classroom this summer are greeted warmly, and I'll undertake the Herculean task of cleaning up the desktop of both my school-issued and personal computers. I created so much content and didn't sort it effectively as I went along, and I don't want to risk throwing it all away with the possibility of still needing it during the upcoming year.  I already took down the classroom props and essentials in my craft room to return it to what I hope will be a comfy and cozy creative space for my continued hobbying.  I'm working on two afghans, plugging along on my goal of crocheting at least one big blanket per month. Last night I took a long soak in the tub and began reading Neil Gaiman's The Ocean at the End of the Lane.

My family and I plan to continue to stay at home as much as possible and to socially-distance ourselves if and when we have to go out to run essential errands.  Masked people are my people, but I've noticed far too many children, who, while accompanying their parents, cower in fear, like many kids do when faced with something or someone scary, as they encounter me in an aisle, or see me sitting in my vehicle waiting for my pick-up delivery.  Some families aren't preparing their children for this new normal, so I anticipate creating and sharing content to help normalize mask-wearing for future students. If I see one too many "prevent the summer slide" or "fill curricular holes created by the pandemic" advertisements or even blog posts by fellow teachers, I'll probably get all ranty in an attempt to explain how no, children don't really shake their heads and erase everything they've encountered and explored like an Etch-a-Sketch pad, and yes, play really IS the best way for them to develop their awareness, knowledge, and interest in this world.  Though I really would have enjoyed a longer break from taking college courses, the workshop I've applied for was frankly irresistible, since I'm a just-in-case person.  With the likelihood that I'll need to continue to reimagine and modify my future students' learning environment, I want more resources and inspiration to help me creatively problem-solve.

With year twenty-five on the horizon, do I hope to remain a kindergarten teacher for the rest of my career?  No.  I would like to become a library media specialist and am waiting for the all-clear so that I can reschedule the taking of my PRAXIS.  I'd pack up my teaching belongings in a heartbeat if I were offered a library in my district, even during a pandemic. Thankfully, I'm not feeling like a reluctant kindergarten whisperer: a year (or a few more) working exclusively with young children and their families doesn't fill me with dread- I will love them forever.  But I do rather feel like I'm on autopilot, and my spirit is chomping at the bit for a new challenge and adventure in education. It's not abandonment or burnout, but a continuation of change and growth, and its possibilities excite me. Shouldn't we all get to feel that several times during our careers?

This year's class photo (and yearbook, when it finally arrives) will get filed away with the others from all of my years of teaching but will stand apart, no matter what. I can only hope that my students and their families, and my colleagues with whom I've traveled and taught over this quarter-century remain safe and healthy. But for now, it's time to go play in the dirt.

A Note from the Teacher

Families will be returning their borrowed tech devices to school this week, and many teachers are hoping that they'll be able to pick up one last packet from us before the start of summer vacation.  Some students will experience a continuation of their current stay-cation, while others will be packing up to move when Uncle Sam finally decides upon their military parent's next duty assignment.

This will be the last time this year's Super Stars will receive feedback or a note from me, and most likely it will be added by parents to their child's copy of Oh, the Places You'll Go! or some other keepsake book that will be given upon graduation from high school.  As seventeen and eighteen-year-olds there's a good chance my students won't remember me, but they may retain clear memories of when they unexpectedly had to continue their kindergarten learning activities from home.  While heartfelt, honest sentiments are always best, the conclusion of this year has me feeling raw and exhausted. I cannot bring myself to handwrite these notes. I've tried writing one to see if I could then scan it, a solution suggested by my husband, but I hate the look of the lined paper, and frankly, my wobbly penmanship.  With my thoughts clear but my wrist and fingers unwilling to execute, I came across another way to solve the problem: adhesive mailing labels.  I can type and then print what I want to say, handwrite each salutation and closing, and keep the sticker backing in place so that parents can easily add it to their child's book.  

Every year I give my Stars a final storybook, an end-of-the-year certificate, and a copy of our memory video on a disc. 

This year they will also receive this note:

Children will tell their parents "Oh, Mrs. Sommerville always says 'goodness gracious me' (or 'goodness gracious Google') and 'okie dokie artichoke-y,'" and hopefully my Stars and their families will understand how much I appreciate them without becoming sad.  It's been emotional, writing this last note from the teacher for both a present-day almost first-grader and a future high school graduate.  I hope that when my Stars read it again twelve years from now that it affirms how much they have been valued by not only their families but by their teachers, too. 

Summer Send-Off Gifts

It's the end of another school year (my twenty-first as a kindergarten teacher), and goodness, what a difference twelve months can make.  Different students, different stressors, new goals and new paths.  Unanticipated problems, incredible solutions, mucho appreciation, and copious amounts of laughter left indelible marks on each month, August through May.

While my Stars bloomed in all the right ways, I'll admit that I do love a good double entendre, so "blooming" seemed like the right inspiration for this year's summer send-off gifts for my colleagues.  Our students bloomed all right, but ~some~ parts of the job were blooming ?!@*#! awful. 

Cue the sunshine-loving plants, simple pots, a quick printable, glittery cardstock and some colorful party straws:

I added three or four flowering plants to each white pot, and then created a quick printable (I love PowerPoint) for the stakes.

I glued the printable onto a punched glitter flower, and then used an x-acto knife to cut slits on either side of one end of each straw, creating a pick:

The cardstock flowers were still a little wobbly, so I secured them by adding some hot glue to the backsides where the flowers were tucked into the slits of the straws.  Then I slid each straw pick into a pot.

I hope these pretty little pots bring a happy splash of color to porches and picnic tables this summer!

I've Learned Something New Every Day This Year

With only one and a half days of school left with my Super Star kindergartners, I have to tell you, I've learned something new from them every day this year.

Sweet, sassy, inquisitive and inclusive, next year's teachers are going to love my soon-to-be former students. They'll appreciate their eagerness, kindness, and energy, and something tells me they'll love their humor, both accidental and purposeful. 

Here's what I learned yesterday:

Star: Mrs. Sommerville, Mrs. Sommerville! Do you know Indiana Jones?

Me: Indiana Jones, you mean the movies about him?

Star: Yes! The boulder and skeleton and snakes movies!

Me: I've seen them before, yes. Why?

Star: Well my mom let me watch them with her, and they're kind of scary.

Me: You're right, there are parts of the movies that are scary.

Star: My mom isn't scared of the boulder or the skeleton, but she DOES NOT like those snakes!

Me: I don't blame her, that many snakes would bother me too.

Star: Uh, Mrs. Sommerville, you don't *really* have to worry about those snakes though.

Me: Oh? Why not?

Star: 'Cause they're just, uh... they're just... special... SPECIAL EFFECTS!

Me: Special effects? What are special effects?

Star: My mom told me that special effects are when scary parts look real but they really aren't. That boulder probably wasn't a REAL boulder, it was just a big lumpy ball that looked like a rock. And the skeletons were just plastic or something.

Me: What about the snakes?

Star, dropping voice to a whisper: Oh, those were probably real.

Me: If they were real, *HOW* did Indiana Jones stay safe?

Star, looking around to make sure no one else could hear: *~Movie~* *~Magic~*

Me, also whispering: ~*Movie Magic~*?

Star, nodding, with a wow-can-you-believe-it expression on his face: Yeeeaaaaaahhhhhhhh. ~*Movie magic.*~

****

How many days do you have left in the school year?

Keys to Our Success: Volunteer Appreciation Gift Idea

With only fifteen days left in the school year, and despite the many, many activities and events packed into those busy days, it's important to remember and thank parent volunteers and teacher aides for all of the time, effort, and in my case, helpful humor that they contributed on behalf of students during the year.

In years past I've given summer flowers, bookmarks, handmade star charms (for my Super Stars) or photos of my class (in decorated picture frames) to the sweet parents, families and aides who helped us carve pumpkins, cover shoe boxes with butcher paper for valentine mailboxes, pulled workbook pages, and transported our lunches in their own vehicle for field trips.  This year, I returned to the star charm idea, but decided to make key/purse/zipper fobs instead:

I cut one inch by one inch squares of scrapbook paper (dark blue with cream stars and denim print) along with glittery heart and star punches.  These will be encased in one inch by one inch glass pieces.



I cut my copper tape using pinking/deckle scissors to make a decorative edge.  This will give the soldered finish along the front of the charm a nice design.





I carefully wrapped the copper tape around each charm, and burnished the edges with a bone folder:





After brushing on the flux (from the yellow tin in the photo) and mounting the charms in the jaws of the jewelry stand, I soldered v-e-r-y carefully using my soldering wand.

Interesting factoid: when solder touches your bare skin, it's so hot that for the very briefest of moments, it feels ~cold~.  Afterward, ouchie, ouchie, ouchie.  



Here are the charms before I added the jump rings (metal loops for a necklace chain or fob):



... and after:



Here are the finished fobs, to be given to the volunteers and aides who were the KEYS to our successes and enjoyment this year!



I'd love to know how you thank and celebrate your parent volunteers and aides!  Leave a comment and let me know (and hang in there, the end of the school year is in sight)!

It's the First Day of Summer Vacation

... and I'm unwrapping used crayons to dice up and melt so that August's Super Stars will have recycled star-shaped crayons to enjoy their first week of kindergarten.

This is part of what it means when teachers have their "summers off."

*****

Fellow teachers, we've finished up another year.  As you pack your classroom away, what ideas are floating around in the back of your head for next fall?  Curriculum mapping?  Organizing materials? Creating new centers?  Or are you simply taking summer one day at a time, with the goal of sleeping in every day possible?

No matter how I try to leave all things kindergarten in the classroom over the summer, I inevitably find myself pinning new ideas and inspiration to my Pinterest boards, buying additions to or replacements for my class library and manipulatives, and dreaming up new ways to use familiar spaces that will engage my students as they explore their world and curricular concepts.  Thankfully, I have The Nine Year Old to spend summer with, and our plans for the next eight weeks include tending our garden.

We're already enjoying strawberries:

*****

What do you have planned for the summer?

~Michaele~

My School-Year-into-Summer Routine

School's out for summer, but I have an annual routine that I work through as I transition between days spent mostly in the classroom to those I'll hopefully spend at home in June and July.

On my list:

1)  Blogging my end-of-the-year reflection.  Done, oh yes. (✓)

2)  Cleaning my house, top to bottom, "spring cleaning" style, only it's not spring, and it's more like dust-bunny-germ-and-oh-isn't-this-cathartic sterilization.  Seriously.  I boil water. (✓)

3)  Dumping out and cleaning my teacher purse/bag/luggage.  It's Vera Bradley (fabric) thus washable.  Today I came up with five tubes of lip gloss, two opened packs of gum, seven pens, a Starbucks gift card, my phone charger, a Christmas c.d. (Bing Crosby), an education journal I've been meaning to read for two months now (okay, three) and expired coupons galore.  (✓)

4)  Transferring all of the balances on the coffee gift cards I've received from Super Star families to the one card I keep on my keychain.  My Stars' parents understand and condone my very necessary relationship with Starbucks, in fact, my students no longer give me bath gels, lotion or perfume as eau de coffee is apparently now my signature scent.  (✓)

5)  Choosing a non-school-related book to enjoy before working through my planned professional development titles.  Thank you Dan Brown.  (✓)

6)  Ironing some capris and shirts and hanging them in the closet for days I actually have to be seen in public.  Making sure tank tops, shorts, skirts, tees and flip flops are within easy reach.  Jammies are always easy to get to (or stay in).  Can't check this one off of my list as I haven't ironed yet. 
 ----> (  )

7)  Planting summer flowers and getting the garden in order.  The whiskey barrels in front of the house are full of blooms, but storm and tornado watches since the last day of school have prevented me from planting anything other than strawberries, grapes, blueberries, pumpkins and onions.  Must.  Plant.  Seeds.  Soon.  ---->  (  )

8)  Stocking our safe room.  My family and I live in Tornado Alley, so we have a shelter downstairs to huddle in if a twister comes our way.  Oh sure, Dorothy and Glinda make it all look so glamorous, but don't believe the movie magic.  Tornado watches put me on alert and tornado warnings/sirens terrify me.  Food, water, paper products, clothing, blankets, flashlights, trashbags, buckets, first aid kit, kitty litter/box and cat food are all in tubs, with not a single ruby slipper in sight.  (✓) (✓) (✓) (✓)

Once your classroom is packed and your keys are turned in, how do you mark the beginning of summer?

My End of the Year Reflection: Thank You for the Cupcakes

Summer vacation, Day One: slept in 'til almost 9 a.m.  First year in seventeen that it's happened.  Not sure if it's because being a little slow on the uptake, my body has finally figured out what its non-work-week rhythm should be or if it's simply because of the Everest-sized mountain of stress the last two weeks of school piled onto my shoulders.  Maybe it's a combination of both.  To this I'll say: ~Whatever~.  I'm having another cup of coffee.  To friends and colleagues who have also started their summer, pass me your mug, let me fill 'er up.  Cream and sugar?  To readers who are still in the throes of wrapping up their year, let me fill your cup AND your jumbo-sized travel mug.  I've got your back.

I like to blog an end-of-the-year reflection and response to questions that have arisen each May because I'm a closure type of person.  When I finish reading a book or series, or when a favorite show on t.v. ends its run, I appreciate the authors and producers who choose to leave no loose ends.  I don't want to wonder what if and I don't want to be left hanging in anticipation that I might find out how it all really concludes.  Something wonderful (or interesting) began, it happened, it ended.  And then I move on.

This year began with fewer professional responsibilities, which was a relief after last year's mayhem.  On my list: teacher, Social Club Committee member, Yearbook Advisor, Student Intervention Team member, KTOY panelist, and I hosted an education student for part of a semester.  Secret Santa was enjoyed in December and I was asked again to take care of an appreciation treat that has become a new tradition: gift baskets for our incredible and very deserving custodial staff.  The majority of my time was spent with my Super Stars and their families, just the way I like it.

My students arrived shyly, eagerly, nervously and excitedly in the fall and getting to know them all was a bonding process, often fun, occasionally hysterical, with a few tears and worries along the way.  Needs were accommodated for, smiles and hugs were shared, expectations were met, and hiccups were maneuvered around.  This was a year of strong personalities who jockeyed for position and were attention-seeking to the end.  Thankfully, the month of May found my Stars "in shape and ready for first grade."  Despite the abundance of behavior modification strategies (most of which involve some form of cutesy bribery or negative consequence), I'm not a believer that every child in a class can be coaxed, pushed, or forced into continual and matched compliance with all of his or her classmates year 'round.  This is likely because I've had "those years" with "those students" before.  It's doubtful this year's dynamic will be repeated for first grade teachers now that my students have been divided up between new classrooms and some of them are traveling to new schools in new states or countries thanks to Uncle Sam.  That's how it goes in our neck of the woods.

Most of my Star Families were involved, engaged, and supportive, sharing their humor, resources, information and patience with me all year long.  Regular email, class blog updates, and lots of photos via both have helped families to feel connected to what happens at school.  Conferences and after-school chats helped me to touch base, and my students and I benefitted from the partnership built with their parents.  Regular readers know about the Cupcake Queen too!  Her creations were enjoyed by students and teachers alike.

Spending time with education students and new-to-the-profession teachers, the advice I gave most this year was to create a friendly, sincere, professional relationship with your students' families.  Don't add them on Facebook or other social networks, don't share intimate information (or encourage them to do so in return), but do consider redefining the role of your classroom door, phone, and school email account: they're open and to be used by your families for communication, even when times are difficult.  Parents, like their children, need and deserve to be heard.  When they're heard, they begin to trust, and when they trust, they allow you the freedom to build the necessary classroom environment to see your students through their first year of public education.  Relationship-building might feel time consuming at first as well as emotional, and some teachers might not be comfortable with the touchy-feely aspect or perceived loss of time.  Colleagues who prefer doors to remain closed and their teaching practices sequestered from the eyes and ears of parents will certainly advise differently, but in this digital/sharing age, these teachers often end up appearing abrasive and secretive, receiving more complaints than trust from parents.  Change happens, and educators address it in their own ways in their own time.  Decide your parameters, but be kind in enforcing them.

This May wraps up seventeen years of teaching for me, though I was born into a family of teachers and have been involved in public education for nineteen.  I have three children, a college graduate, a college sophomore, and a newly-minted second grader.  I've experienced stabs and full-on attacks from "champions of educational reform" (most of them non-teachers) via No Child Left Behind and the Common Core Initiative as a teacher and mother in the three states in which we've lived and I've taught.  I have distinct memories of educational issues, reforms and changes that both my mother and uncle endured during their tenure.  Being a blogger and an avid reader of other education and teacher blogs, journals and websites, I know I'm not the only educator with over a decade's worth of concerns regarding the practice of blaming teachers, creating distrust in schools, and the advocacy of student achievement "guaranteed" by scripted instruction and the piling on of interventions.  Many of these strategies and interventions aren't effective because 1) they're developmentally inappropriate and 2) salesmen and politicians have convinced many administrators, parents and new teachers that play isn't learning.  It's difficult to know everything about every topic concerning public education, especially as many of us tread water with each new change and mandate lobbed at us annually, but it's important to be aware of and informed about the big picture in order to be best prepared for our students.  Working in a district gated from the rest of the state, the effects caused by political and societal changes have merely been delayed, effects I've witnessed having worked and visited elsewhere. Despite my efforts to share what I know and what I've seen, it's frustrating when colleagues spend years simply attributing these changes to their dislike of me, my teaching philosophy, or my pedagogy.

How do I handle both the positive and negative changes in education that others either wholeheartedly (unquestioningly) embrace or vehemently oppose?  I cherry pick my way through them.  My interests and tastes outside of the classroom are very diverse.  I dig through and choose the best recipes, advice, treasures and tools that I find and I leave the rest.  In the classroom, I have almost two decades' worth of experience and knowledge about how young children learn that help me recognize sh** from Shinola, canned programs from quality material, and I know how and where to find information and feedback from other teachers who have discovered new tools or are adding new tricks of the trade to compliment the tried-and-true.  I share what I know with new teachers.  I can discriminate between expertise and salesmanship.  I can compromise, and understand that I must as long as I'm not my own boss.  My paycheck is a necessity, not a luxury.  I cannot tell you how appreciative I am that I still love doing this job in spite of the changes created by our nation's faith in snake oil salesmanship.  I do more good for my students by recommitting myself to their quality instruction than I would by allowing myself to wallow in dismay over changes with which I don't agree.  This is the balance I have chosen for myself.

I appreciate it when administrators ask for my opinion, but I understand that they too are caught up in the momentum of their own schedules and rapid-fire decision making.  They meet many more salesmen than I do, and must shake hands and work with politicians who often use the classroom setting as a photo opportunity, campaign promise, or political tool.  Doing what they can to ensure funding to educate not only my students but my own son, I understand the compromises that district higher-ups make and admire the endurance they maintain.  They are parents of schoolchildren too.

Vocal child development experts and politically active teachers know that the effective advocacy of students relies heavily upon the setting and delivery of our message.  Heartfelt pleas are too emotional, invitations are considered pandering, and challengers become targets.  It's also a full time job, with very little steam, buzz or momentum created by a single impassioned email or letter.  One voice should matter, but it takes an awful loud one to cut through the media's barrage of "celebrity" teen moms, fashion faux pas and administration bashing.  A mere fifteen minutes of fame isn't enough time for teachers who must first distract the masses from the usual curricular or financial debates before introducing a truly pro-student focus.  The educational issues, battles and scandals in our nation's public school arena are as diverse as our students, making one-size-fits-all the most ridiculous goal ever set by reformers.  Children are not components on an assembly line.  It's a simple truth, not a terrifying inconvenience, and I admire and support those that have dedicated their voices to sharing this truth with the public.

Teaching is a pressure-filled job.  I'm appreciative for the simply given yet substantially felt support I continue to receive from administrators, many colleagues, my Super Star Families and child advocates who continue to work hard to fight on my students' behalf as I create and maintain a safe, engaging, and joyful learning environment for my kindergartners.  Thank you for your help, your hugs, and your high fives.

And thank you for the cupcakes.

It was a good year.

~Michaele~

*****

Want to visit other teachers who are looking back on their year and forward to their next teaching adventure?  Head over to iTeach 5th (and consider adding your own memories and goals to the party):

Once in August, Again in May

I've shown you these before-and-afters over the years in previous blog posts, but you know I can't resist sharing this project with you again!

The directions are the same in May as they are in August, but the results are incredibly different:

 August:

May:

August:

May:

August:

May:

August:

May:

August:

May:

And the best part?  I got to be there every step of the way.