Book Geeks

This weekend, Mickey and I went to the Michigan Reading Association conference. It was held in Detroit this year. Last year, it was held in Grand Rapids, and it was the first time we attended.

We're book geeks. And we're not afraid to admit it. We stalk authors, get starstruck when we see reading researchers, and spend a lot of money on books for ourselves and our classrooms. Going to the MRA conference just helps feed our obsession.

The conference is attended by teachers from all parts of Michigan, and is one of the biggest reading conferences in the country. There are some really famous authors and illustrators who are invited to speak, and some prominent researchers who are invited to teach. Last year we spent a lot of time listening to authors and illustrators, but this year it was all about the research. We stalked one of the most prominent reading researchers when we attended two of his sessions, then attended two sessions of a sister-team who taught some pretty innovative teaching techniques.

Mickey and I are in similar new situations this year, especially now that I am doing the long-term sub thing. This year, she moved from special ed to general ed, and is finding her way in her 2nd grade classroom. She obviously has a lot more teaching experience than I do, and she is such a great resource for me. It was really fun going to the conference with her this year, because we could bounce ideas off each other, brainstorm how things could work in each other's classrooms, and laugh at our geekiness. And of course, anytime Mickey and I are together, there is pretty much incessant conversation happening. We catch up, we reminisce, we plan.

The problem with these kinds of conferences is that you want to start using all the new techniques in your classroom on Monday. Totally unrealistic, but totally tempting. This conference pumps you up, and the camaraderie is contagious. Everyone there believes in and breathes reading. You can't help but think that you can do it all. Tomorrow.

I think I'll start with adding a read-aloud of poetry tomorrow. One day at a time, eh?

Pandora's Box

Just as I suspected. It was opened once again this morning when the teacher on leave came in for a "visit". I hope there won't be any more visits this year. How disruptive it was. I asked him if he could come in the afternoon, so that the kids could see him, and it wouldn't interfere with their day. Or interfere with mine. No dice.

He walked in this morning, presents in hand, like good-time Charlie. I let him talk to the kids alone for about 15 minutes, but spent 10 of those minutes in the hallway so I could hear what he was saying. I don't know what I was afraid of, but I didn't quite trust him. From what I could hear, everything was okay. He asked them about the good things in the classroom. He also gave them a little pep talk about me, and about how I'm a good teacher, etc. etc. The rest of the day was somewhat of a wash because the kids were exhausted and acted up accordingly. I attempted to get them to talk about how they were feeling, and I mostly got "sad and angry" from them. They are sad he left, mad he can't come back, and happy he did stop by and visit. He did confirm with them that he won't be back until the end of the year. Gulp.

It was interesting to see the reaction in some of the kids. My very spirited, not so nice boy suddenly was very somber. He listened intently to my lessons, got in line first without messing with his friends, and got his books together without me prompting him to do so. My girl with attitude who likes me most of the time talked and interrupted me constantly. At one point she was eating her snack so loud (mouth open) while I taught that I had to give her a look. "WHAT?" she snapped at me. Hmmm, I thought. Can't wait until tomorrow when I introduce the new behavior plan. (Today wasn't the best day to do it.)

I saw one hopeful thing while waiting for him to finish talking to the class. I was standing near a window to the outside space that four of our hallways look into. There is some grass, a picnic table, and a big tree. And in the corners? Small stalks of tulips or daffodils poking through the dark soil. Spring is coming. Spring is coming.

What I Love

It's 6:30 pm and I can still see the sun shining high in the sky over my neighbor's garage. Thank you, daylight savings, for once again giving me hope that spring is on its way. I needed that more than ever this year.

And spring, I know you're coming. Could you hurry it up just a little please?

Blimpy Burger

I still feel full. And we ate Blimpy Burgers yesterday for lunch. What's a Blimpy Burger you ask? It's an Ann Arbor tradition, that I'm sad to say Stein and I had not tried until yesterday. We were missing out in the meantime.

Now it's not something that I could eat every week, or every month, for that matter. But it is an experience that you have to try if you live here or visit here. They have their own system of ordering and getting your food, and in a soup-Nazi kind of way, if you don't follow along, you'll be harassed. Knowing this, Stein and I did a bit of research on what we needed to do before going. We even practiced (yes, we're dorks like that) and hoped that someone would be in front of us in line. When we got there, we were relieved. There were people in front of us. Make that a lot of people in line in front of us.

As we snaked our way in line throughout the restaurant, we were able to get the lay of the land and understand exactly how the system works. You pick up a drink, pick up a tray, order your fried stuff first (onion rings, fries, mushrooms, veggies), then you get to the grill. This is where the intimidation starts. You order the meat in quantities of patties. All of their meat is ground daily and put into little scoops. You order the amount of scoops you want, followed by grilled stuff (onions, mushrooms, eggs, bacon) and what type of bun you want. As the woman behind the grill (the main interrogator) is grilling your burger, she then will ask you what type of cheese you want. After this is all grilled, then the person at the cash register asks what you want on the burger. And then you're free to sit down (don't you dare sit down while you're waiting in line!).

We put an hour's worth of change in the meter before getting into the place. When I went out to the meter again when we sat down at the table, the hour was up. Yes, we waited an hour for 2 burgers, fries and onion rings. This obviously isn't fast food. But it is entertaining, it is Ann Arbor, and it is darn good food.

I Couldn't Resist

But then again, I can never resist these (or the cute little cherubs selling them at the grocery store the other day). I normally avoid eye contact with any people trying to get me to buy something, adults or kids. In fact, Stein has been known to go to another grocery store across town just to dodge the situation. But when I see the little girls dressed in their green or brown uniforms, I instantly say yes.

Thin mints are one of my favorite cookies, and having them straight out of the freezer is the best. Do I like them because they're not available all the time, or do I truly like them because they're good? Probably a little of both, but frankly it's not worth fretting over. I never was a Girl Scout. I was a Brownie for a day, but that's a whole other post. I am glad to give them my money in support of their programs. As long as it's thin mints they're selling, I'm buying.

Thanks So Much

Aw, shucks. I'm feeling verklempt at all the warm comments and words of encouragement from so many wonderful people yesterday. Thanks for your support, and for letting me vent here. I normally try to keep things in a positive light, but this has been so different for me. While most things are good, there are some aspects that really affect me, really get into my head and heart.

Today was much better. Much better in the sense that I never felt like walking out of the room, and connected with some kids on different levels. My kid with the big heart continued to give me thanks for things I gave them today, and offered smiles when I needed them. The Iditarod continues to amaze the class, so it has been a fun thing to talk about and follow. They are really curious about all aspects of the race, and it feeds in so nicely with Woodsong, the Gary Paulsen book we're reading. (Now that I've said that, I hope that I don't get another canned comment from the anti-Iditarod/sled dog police like I did the other day.)

I got word from Laura that the teacher on leave may come into school next Tuesday to say his goodbyes. While it's really important for the kids to experience closure with him, I can't help but think this may reopen Pandora's Box. I'm afraid that it may lead to another Monday. I really can't handle that if it does happen.

I just have to take it day by day. And tomorrow's Friday. I can take it for sure.

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.