Call me weird....Call me crazy....Just remember it's for the kids.

When I was a little girl I hated school. I mean really, really hated school.  I was chubby, wore glasses, had a huge gap in my teeth, and struggled with reading. I had teachers  in first and second grade who were ill-equipped to deal with a student who had the struggles that I had.  Almost every morning of 2^nd grade, I had a stomach ache. Many mornings I was throwing up in my Mom’s Ford Esquire station wagon. And, while I thought at the time she was the worst mother ever, she kicked me out of my car and made me go to school anyway. I cried many days at school. I cried in the car on the way home. I cried doing homework. I absolutely hated school.

Then in 3^rd grade, Lynn Bozard entered my life. The first day of school she had a cute snack made out of medical gloves (pre-Pinterest). She dressed up as Ameila Bedila. She sang songs to us-all the time-and God rest her soul, she couldn’t sing. She brought in manipulatives for math-something that I had never seen before. She brought in fire trucks and ambulances when we were doing a unit on community helpers. She dressed up as an Indian when we started studying SC history. I remember one day when she came to school dressed as the Statue of Liberty. She read to us throughout the day. Her read alouds always had something special…homemade puppets, funny voices, participation from the students. She was never without a smile-even when I missed every spelling word. She was never without a kind word-even when I tore up my vocabulary test when I knew I didn’t know.

She was what I strive to be every single day as an educator. Our school district uses the words Inspire and Equip in our mission statement. She was inspiring. She made school fun. She made school exciting. My mother often called her the miracle worker because for the first time in three years, I was happy to come to school. I couldn’t wait to do my homework. I loved for my Mom to talk to my teacher. I loved being in her room. It was 39 years ago when I was in her class and I remember books she read to us. I remember her costumes. I remember her funny voices. I remember her silliness. I remember how she was patient with me. I remember her asking that I come to school early for extra attention. I remember that she had me come to school on Saturday mornings for tutoring. I remember the feeling of the last day of school.

Not only was she inspiring, she equipped me every day with not only content knowledge, but with confidence. She helped me learn to read-something up until that point I had been unable to do well. She helped learn how to communicate. I remember her telling my Dad one day that I was a great writer and that I always had great ideas. She made me feel confident-something I had not found until that point. She equipped me to continue loving school and loving learning.

I often have people ask me why I dress up in car line, why when I do read alouds in classrooms I never make it boring, why I embarrass myself continually to make kids happy, why I work after 5pm, before 6am, and many weekends getting programs, activities, and experiences ready for our kids. Why do I do all of that? I do all of that because one of my core beliefs about education is that if we create an environment where kids feel safe, loved, excited, enthusiasm and appreciated, they will love school and they will love learning.  If we are not excited to be here, I kids will not be. If we are not enthusiastic about learning, they will not be. If we are not loving on our students, they will resist us. If we are not appreciative of what they can bring to our classrooms, they will feel rejected.

Be Lynn Bozard.

Thanksgiving

My father was a wise, wise man. And as I come to this first Thanksgiving without him, making that sentence past tense breaks my heart all over again.  When I was a child, my parents wanted nothing but the best for their children. Giving a strong Christian background and surrounding his children with faith-filled individuals was of the most importance. It is one reason why my father, along with others, started a private school in our town. I attended that school from 4K to 12^th grade. When I was a teenager, my mother had cancer. This took a huge toll on our finances. Paying tuition, even at a school my father help to found, became difficult. New, designer clothes and shoes lessened. I remember other families from the church bringing meals and I remember hand me down clothes from others. I also remember one student at school making fun of me to others because her family was helping my family. I wasn’t even sure what that meant but I later found out that her father had paid the tuition for the remainder of the year for me and my siblings. (How I wish Gofundme had existed back then!) I remember crying and talking to my dad about my poor life…an absent mother who was possibly dying of cancer, babysitting my young brother, working on the farm, not having cool things like others, and being made fun of because our family struggled. My father told me something that day that I’ve held onto ever since. He said that if everyone put their problems in a bag and hung them on the clothesline and were able to pick, we’d pick our problems back up over other people’s problem every time.

As a teenager, I really didn’t believe him. As an adult, I now understand what my Dad was talking about. It is so easy to look around and see what I don’t have, where I am struggling, how much I left to do, and how tired I am. But what I forget is that everyone has problems. No one has a perfect life. As educators we are beaten up, not well respected, work way too hard, too many hours, and are asked to be educator, counselor, psychologist, mom, doctor, and friend to students. I often remember when dealing with a difficult student that the reason behind their behavior would probably not make me made, it would break my heart.

As I thought about all of this and a message about Thanksgiving, I was reminded of a story. A man found a cocoon of a butterfly. One day a small opening appeared. He sat and watched the butterfly for several hours as it struggled to force its body through that little hole. Until it suddenly stopped making any progress and looked like it was stuck.
So the man decided to help the butterfly. He took a pair of scissors and snipped off the remaining bit of the cocoon. The butterfly then emerged easily, although it had a swollen body and small, shriveled wings. The man didn’t think anything of it and sat there waiting for the wings to enlarge to support the butterfly. But that didn’t happen. The butterfly spent the rest of its life unable to fly, crawling around with tiny wings and a swollen body. Despite the kind heart of the man, he didn’t understand that the restricting cocoon and the struggle needed by the butterfly to get itself through the small opening; were God’s way of forcing fluid from the body of the butterfly into its wings. To prepare itself for flying once it was out of the cocoon.

Our struggles in life develop our strengths. Without struggles, we never grow and never get stronger, so it’s important for us to tackle challenges on our own, and not be relying on help from others. Thank you for struggling along with us as we continue to make our school the most caring environment. Thank you for struggling along with us as we continue to study best practice in order to give every child, every chance to succeed. Thank you for struggling along with us as we develop and grow our practices of compassionate schools. Thank you for struggling along with us as work hard to develop well rounded, balanced students and offering extra opportunities for students outside of the classroom. Thank you for struggling along with us as we collaborate with each other rather than working in silos.

Thank you for what you do in our school each and every day. Our students are better because of you. Our community is better because of you. I am better because of you.

#45

I turned 45 this summer. It should be a big deal to turn 45, ½ way to 50, the idea of living more already than I have left. But honestly if I haven’t learned anything in the last year and half, I’ve learned that every day on this side of the grass is a good day.  And 45 didn’t have some crazy effect on me.

On my birthday, I read a terrible, horrible no good article on schools in South Carolina. It made me sad. It made me mad. It made me wonder how folks who have no clue what we do each day could write such horrible things about schools. So on that day I decided each week until my 46^th birthday I would write about one good thing we are doing in education. I figured on my 46^th birthday I would publish my 46 things that are right in education. Yet, last week, for many reasons, I didn’t have time to make my weekly submission to my list (hence why the list will have 46 things rather than 52).

I entered school today with a heavy heart. It was a tough weekend attending two funerals. Saying goodbye to a staff member was hard. It was a lot harder than I thought. It was so cold this morning. When I arrived at school it was clear but about 100 steps before I made it to the door, the clouds opened and a monsoon started-and ended as quickly as it began. Carline started with a car with a dead battery, two safety patrol were sick and not on duty, and I forgot my umbrella while directing traffic. When I made it into the office I had an upset parent on the phone. Seriously before 8am and I was not happy. So I pulled out my journal and decided I needed an entry in my list of things that are so right in education.

I realized I needed to share today’s entry with you all because maybe, just maybe you needed to hear something we do right also:

#16.  Education isn’t just about academics. We work so hard to ensure that each student is on grade level. We talk about reading levels, interventions, critical thinking, writing skills, RTI, and special services all the time. We want every student to reach mastery of standards, but what we focus on more than ever before is the social and emotional well-being of our students. In our school, education is not simply about feeding the mind, but it is also about feeding the heart and the soul. Many educators I surround myself with feel that if we fail our students emotionally, then we have not succeeded.  I wish for every student to  score “exceeds expectation” on every tests we give them. But more than anything I want students who say kind things, sit with someone who is sitting alone, offer to help, are friends to the lonely, encourage each other, share, look for the good in others, and offer a smile when it is needed. So what is right with education, it is right that we understand our education the heart is just as important as educating the mind.

And about the time I finished a precious 1^st grade came into my office and shyly walked into my office and said, “Hey Dr. Rose. Do you need a hug?” And people wonder why my office is in the middle of the school? Why yes, I’ll take that hug.