Flip to the other side of the card

Unless you live under a rock, you know that this past weekend was Mother’s Day. In all honesty, the last two Mother’s Days have not been fun. I’ve smiled and hugged my boys and pretended to be happy. I even got excited when they purchased me an Air Fryer as a gift this year.  (I’m using it for the first time tonight…so hang on, I’ll let you know how it goes).   I’ve tried to put on a pretty face for Mother’s Day, but all I really want is a phone call to heaven.  I miss my Mom more than I can say and Mother’s Day is a reminder that she is no longer here. It is just another day of seeing moms and daughters together and feeling the pain of what I miss so desperately.  Now, I know that she is with me in my heart and I know I can talk with her anytime….but it still hurts that I don’t get to hug her neck, listen to her advice, or listen to her complain about my siblings making me feel like I’m her favorite. I avoid TV, I stay off all social media, and I beg my people not to take me out to eat (which I never win).  You see Mother’s Day is hard. It is a reminder of what I have lost and it sometimes is more than I can bear to stand.

Today, a student was acting out. He was having a bad day---and it really is unusual. As I brain stormed with the teacher, we realized that this student, who is in foster care, was feeling the same way I felt yesterday. He misses his mom.  So I took him to my office and we talked and I must admit we cried together. We made a little notecard of all the things that make him sad….missing his brother’s birthday, missing his mom, a classmate that yells at him….and then we made a list on the other side of the notecard of the things that make him happy……and that list was so very long.... Grilled cheese sandwiches, Monster University, getting his monthly visit with his mom and brother, his teacher, math, and getting to play football next year.  That list of things that made him happy just kept growing. I told him that every time he felt sad, to turn over the card and read about all the things that make him happy and pretty soon the things that make him sad will not feel so bad.

As I walked him back to class, I realized that I can give great advice, but I sure don’t listen to it myself. While the pain of not having my mother on Mother’s Day is bad (and I don’t even want to talk about Father’s Day), I have so much that is good.  SO MUCH THAT IS GOOD!  Right before I turned to go into my office, I was stopped by a staff member with a complaint. Now I try to be open to listen to everything, but I found myself asking that staff member “what makes you happy here?”  You see it is easy to focus on the bad. It is easy to talk about all the things that are wrong, that are upsetting to you, or that need immediate attention, but do you stop and focus on how far we’ve come or how many things you have around you that make you happy?

You see, if I had done what I wanted to do yesterday-get under the covers and cry all day- then I would have missed out on an amazing church service. I would have missed out on a fantastic meal at one of my favorite downtown restaurants. I would have missed out on watching Clemson baseball with my people and having them laugh at my intensity. I would have missed out on afternoon ice cream at Rocky Moos (and if you have been there you need to put it on your “things that make you happy” list). Dang, I would have even missed out on reading new recipes to try in my Air Fryer.

Being bogged down in what is wrong makes us miss what is right. And don’t we have so much here that is right?  I certainly will never be one to avoid fixing the things that are wrong. We, like everyone else, have things to work on, but I focus on the things that are right. I focus on what we’ve accomplished.  I focus on the things that make me happy. Because that list is too long to even write on a notecard.

I have and will continue to speak about #maymatters. Because it does. What we are doing with our students right now sets the stage for the next two months for them. Every extra push of learning sets them up for continued success. It is difficult work. It is hard. And it is easy to focus on how busy we are, and how much we have to do……..or we could focus on the other side of the card…….what makes us happy? 

So I beg of you for how many ever days we have left of this school year to flip to the other side of the card.

Perfect Teachers

I had a tour last week with a very weepy new kindergarten Mom. In the fall, her daughter will be at “big school” (her words) for the first time. Her daughter has attended a 2 day a week Mommy’s Day out, has never spent one night away from her Mom, and has some health concerns. At one point, I grabbed her hands and I looked her in her eyes and I told her that we understand that parents give us their most precious gifts every single day and that is a trust that we don’t take lightly.  In fact, we take that very seriously. I told her that, as a parent myself, trusting others would take care of my children the way I would, was even hard for me-and I am an educator. In fact, the first time Rosebro1 went to kindergarten here at JBE, I cried…and I was in the building all day.  How must it feel to the parent who drops their child off and drives away for the first time? 

I went on to tell that mom of some of our security and supervision policies. I explained fire drills and lock down drills. I explained our policy of handling discipline but focusing mainly on what students do right. I told her about our teaching pedagogy (because as you would know….her child is already gifted). I explained about field trips, our full-time school nurse, and our guidance counselor who is always there to support students with anxiety and separation issues. I told her about our authorized pick up list and our precautions in car line. 

Then, I told her the real truth. That even with all those measures that we practice and we preach and we go over in every faculty meeting, we will at some point in her daughter’s six years here, fail her. It may be that I forget to call her name on the loud speaker when she earned recognition. Her teacher may forget a parent conference or an email may go unanswered. I told her that another student will probably say something unkind to her daughter and the teacher will not notice. I told her that she may get served the wrong meal in the cafeteria. I told her that our teachers are human beings. I told her of something that I had done recently that was simply a mistake. It hurt a child’s feelings. I told her what I did to make it right. I told her we do all we can to avoid them, but I wasn’t going to lie to her and tell her that anyone in this building was perfect.

She started crying more.  I thought I had really made a mistake. Then she told me about dropping her daughter on her head when she was just a few months old.  Her crying turned to laughter as I detailed the story of me breaking Rosebro1’s nose when he was 8 months old or the time I was helping Rosebro2 after a bee sting and ended up slamming his hand in the car door. After a few minutes, she stopped her crying/laughing and asked for a registration card. She said she was not going home to think about it because I was the first principal who was honest with her. She said, “I am not a perfect parent. How can I expect a perfect teacher?’  I reminded her that here at JBE she will come close to having some perfect teachers-albeit nowhere near a perfect principal- but that any mistake a teacher makes is NEVER done to harm a student.

You see this week isn’t Perfect Teacher Appreciation Week. It is simply Teacher Appreciation Week. But there is nothing simple in terms of appreciating a teacher. My first-year teaching, I had an IEP meeting with a parent and discussed a child that didn’t belong to the parent.  Now, I am unsure why the mom didn’t stop me when I kept referring to her son, Christopher, as Demarcus, but I had the entire IEP meeting- Cognitive, testing scores-the whole works with the wrong parent.  Just imagine how that went when upon her way out the door, my principal asked me why Christopher’s mom was here for a meeting and I realized what I had done.  I made a mistake.  I am less than perfect, but I beat myself up about that for years. To this day, I probably make parents feel awkward the number of times I use their student’s name in a meeting. I am paranoid of making the same mistake twice. I learned from that mistake. I learn from the ones I make now. I continue to grow.

You will never be a perfect teacher. AND that is okay. You are appreciated anyway.  I learned after my Demarcus/Christopher debacle that no one wanted to hear my pity party. My principal was done talking to me about it the day it happened and that is when I became a reflective teacher.  Greatness always starts with reflection. In fact, a pity party helps self-doubt creep in-and we need confidence to do this job.

I tell you all this today to say even with your imperfections, even with your mistakes, even with your self doubts, you are appreciated. You are given the greatest trust by our parents and 99% of the time you do it flawlessly. And some of those 1%’s are big, terrible, and sometimes plain dumb mistakes, but you’re still appreciated.

You are appreciated for the hard work you do each day in your class, for every parent phone call afterschool, every meeting afterschool-RTI, IEP, Parent meetings, committee meetings, for every difficult student you’ve learned to love, for every field trip, every assembly, every program, every evening you’ve graded papers or worked on lesson plans, for every moment you took away from your own family to attend to a student or our school, for every early morning duty, and car duty in the pouring rain, snow or temps below 20, for every sleepless night worried about school, and for every minute during those summer months working on school.  You. Are. Appreciated.  

Our PTSO, and we are lucky to have them, will spoil you this week as your waistband expands after every delicious meal, breakfast, and treat prepared for you. Duty free lunch-and if you're not a teacher you just can't understand- is so very rewarding. The little gifts, notes, hugs, pictures drawn are heartfelt. But I hold your hands, look you in the eye and tell you the truth---you are appreciated.