A Needed Reprieve

My prayers were answered today. We have a snow day.

I know what you're thinking: You had a whole week off last week! But, believe me, I need this.

Monday was a day from hell.

I had worked over the break to rearrange and get the room ready. I wanted it to be a place that felt good to me and the kids, a place that was conducive to learning. It backfired. The minute the kids got into the room, the comments I heard from them included: "This place is so girlie!" or "Why couldn't we make our own name tags?" (I made tags at each of their seats for the new seating chart which they had been warned about before break) or "Why are there so many mirrors in here?" or "Everything is different."

I ignored all the snide comments as best I could. Then I had a community meeting where I explained some of the new and (what I thought were) exciting things that we had in the classroom. The looks that most of the kids were giving each other included rolling eyes, exasperation, and anger. Again, I ignored all of this as best I could. I told them about a new incentive program that was going to replace the old "honor system" that included a celebration and a raffle. They didn't buy it. "That was the last thing we had left of Mr.______." To change the subject, I showed them all of the books I brought in from my own collection, based on their interests from a survey I gave. "Like what kind of books are there?" one girl snapped. I answered in a calm voice, "Ones that you will like."

Silent reading came next, but it wasn't very silent. I understood. They all needed to talk about everything that had happened. I took it easy on them so they could talk it out. A lot of the kids found books in my stash that they liked. I was pleased with that.

Then came math.

I started the lesson and said that it was going to be a review of fractions. Apparently none of the kids heard the word "review" because a little while later in the lesson, the comments blurted out loud included, "Why are we doing this again?" and "We already know this." "This is boring." "We already know how to use this chart." I got through as much as I could. When I some of the kids asked if we could have snack, I told them that I had made a special treat for them. "What is it?" a couple kids barked. I had it.

I walked out of the room.

As I walked out I heard one of the kids shout, "Shut up! She's going to get the principal!" I walked next door to Laura's room (the other 5th grade teacher). I just threw up my hands and gave her an angry and defeated look. She came out into the hall and said, "Just go take a walk and I'll talk to them." So I did. I walked around for a while, then I walked into the Principal's office. It took one look from her to know that I wasn't in there to share pleasantries. She got up and said, "Just go take a break and I'll talk to them." Laura came to me a short time later and said, "Just give her some time, she wants to talk to them." At this point I was crying. This is one thing that people tell you not to do in front of the kids. Too late. They already saw me.

I let the principal talk to them. I cried some more. I felt bad for the poor teacher's aide who was having lunch in the teacher's lounge. She had no choice but to listen to me blubber and try her best to change the subject. Bless her.

After a couple minutes, I started back toward my room and saw the principal. "They're mad about the honor system being taken away, and they're mad about the seating chart.," she said. Okay, I thought. Fair enough. Rookie mistake #567.

I walked in the room and everyone shouted, "We're sorry!" A couple kids came up to me and gave me hugs. I said, "I just want to help you all do your best. But we need to work together."

I decided that the mood in the room needed to be changed. I decided to do my "getting to know you bag". This is an activity I did while student teaching. It does a few things: it helps the kids get to know each other, it builds community by showing the kids that they have things in common, and it also lets the kids do a little show and tell. I had the same things in my bag from the last time I did it. One of the things was a cookbook which represented my love of cooking, and also one of my favorite recipes in the book: banana bread. To accompany this, I baked banana bread for the kids and brought it in. (This was the treat that they rudely asked about before). They all sheepishly thanked me for it. One kid, the one with a big heart, said, "Mrs. Steinhauer, you bake like my mama." That was one of the biggest compliments I could've asked for.

The gods of time were with me at that point. It was time for lunch.

After lunch, they went to Laura's room for social studies and I taught her class math. It went much better with her class. (Teaching a lesson the second time is always better. You know what to avoid, what to include, and any questions to anticipate.) After this, the kids went to music and gym, so I didn't see them again until we had to get ready to go home. That was fine with me. I was exhausted. Mentally, physically, and spiritually.

Poor Stein had to listen to me blubber to him when I got home. Poor Mickey had to listen to me blubber on the phone later that night. Bless them.

I didn't sleep well that night, and the next morning didn't go well either. Before school started, I went through about 10 Kleenexes.

There are so many factors running in and out of my head constantly. I know that all of these changes for the kids have them reacting the way that they are. Their teacher left them abruptly, with no goodbye, no explanation why. Prior to his departure, their days were filled with monotonous instruction, when there was instruction. There was no structure, the curriculum wasn't being followed. So now, when I come in with all the necessary changes, their world is thrown. They're angry. And I'm the person that is feeling the brunt of it. I get this. It all makes sense in my head. Where it doesn't make sense is in my heart.

The way that they treat each other and me doesn't make sense in my head or my heart. They have no respect for each other or for me. They question when someone is being nice to them, and they rarely say thank you. Rudeness, hurtful names, and bad attitudes are their weapons. And they have no problem using these weapons whenever, wherever they see fit.

The support at school I have received thus far has been wonderful. Everyone is aware of my class and the issues that I have. Yet sometimes I feel that aside from having another teacher in my room at all times to help with discipline, I don't know what else I need. I am willing to try anything. I am attempting to build community. I am attempting to make their learning fun. I am attempting to give them the skills they need for middle school and beyond.

On the other hand, I question whether this is the place for me. Not in a giving-up sense, but in a realistic way. I just got done with my student teaching in December. I am a rookie, I don't know everything. I don't know if I have what they need. And I don't know how long I should hang on to see. A week? A month? The rest of the year? I don't know. I feel like my feelings literally change by the minute. And the other factors involved: Am I losing a resume-building opportunity by leaving? Am I going to let other people down if I do? My head swims with all of these things constantly.

This is truly one of the most difficult things I have ever done. Speaking in front of a room full of people at a national sales meeting? Easy. Opening two restaurants in 2 different states in one week? Piece of cake. Dealing with a screaming husband and wife daily at a family-owned business? Kid's play. But this? Tough. Draining. Frustrating. Confusing. Challenging. And to make it even harder? Rewarding.