Invisible

     The other day we had an abnormal number of tardies. I decided to walk some of these students into their class. It was a nice little conversation with the student on the way to his/her class. I dropped one student off and the student was embraced by a hug (obviously before Corona hit us in the US) by two students. Another student’s face lit up when his teacher announced him entering the class. Yet, one student when dropped off went right to his desk without a word from anyone. Now, the teacher was helping a student with morning work, and students were busily working on said morning work, but not one person in the room noticed that the student came into the room.

     It hurt me for her. It upset me. It made me ensure that I found a way to see the student several times during the day and say something valuable or life affirming. I think I am still doing it in some way or another other. I am finding ways to run into the class or the student and ensure that he isn’t invisible.

     I was thinking about this student the other day and was reminded of an experience I had many, many years ago. I was challenged to Try this as a simple exercise: get a piece of paper and try to write down your whole class from memory. You’re given just one minute to do so. I was lucky because at the time I taught self-contained and only had 9 students. It was pretty easy for me, but I was with a group of teachers. On average each teacher was unable to complete their list by forgetting at least 2 students. The invisible child.

     I can’t lie. I was a little judgmental of my teacher friends who could not remember all of their students’ names. Until I became a teacher of 22 students. I tried the exercise again and realized that I, in fact, had an invisible student in my class.  The invisible student is one who does not initially stand out for any reason. This student is not extremely athletic, overly popular, or very outgoing. He/She  invariably follows all of the rules. An invisible student is compliant, well-behaved, and rarely does anything to call attention to himself or herself. I decided that he would not remain invisible anymore.

     My invisible student was great.  He was always in the right place and doing the right thing. He got along with everyone and never rocked the boat. He was never the best at any activity, nor was he ever the worst. He was great, but I wanted to find a way for him to shine. One day, I was talking to him and he told me that his older brother had recently taught him how to whistle “loud like a grown man”. Naturally, I asked him to demonstrate. It turned out that he was right! He was able to whistle in the way that people do with two fingers that I have never been able to master that was so loud it actually hurt me ears. I was so jealous.  The next morning, I announced in our morning meeting that there would be a whistling competition after lunch at recess. The kids got very excited, and my invisible student was the most excited of anyone. For the next few hours, the students off and on practiced their whistling, but he kept quiet. He knew he didn’t have to practice. At the competition, he blew everyone away (pun intended). He won easily. The other students swarmed him with congratulatory hugs and requests for whistling lessons. At that moment, he was the opposite of invisible—he was the star. I often wonder if that was a moment he will remember.

     I challenge you today to make sure that no student you’re in charge of feels invisible all the time. Find ways to help them shine if only for a brief moment. It can change everything for them.

The Impossible

I have been lucky in my career to teach a variety of grade levels, students, and schools. In one school, I was hired to teach EH self-contained.  These will always be my most favorite years in education. There are several reasons why this is my favorite. One reason is that these were the neediest of all my students I ever taught. They were EH kids. They were angry, they had zero emotional control, they lied, they stole, they fought. Most of them struggled with huge gaps in their academics. Some had a learning disability, some just had missed so much school due to behavior or environment that they really had never been taught well.  It was tough. I mean really, really tough. Some days we all just survived. Other days we thrived.

At the end of the first six weeks, we had had a particularly rough day. One of my students, who had no academic gaps, had been doing extremely well, and I was ready to start mainstreaming him to regular education for math in hopes that with a great supportive teacher and the support of his safe place-our classroom- he would soon be able to get back into the general education route by the end of the year for all core content. Yet, I could not find one teacher-there were six on the grade level-who were willing to let my student be mainstreamed into their class. Not a single one. I went to the principal and asked for his help in what I should do. His response was even more disheartening. He told me probably more eloquently than I will express in this writing that my job was to keep my kids quiet, out of the hallway, and to just keep control until they reach the time to go on to junior high school. I was told that while I was young and lived with rose colored glasses, the sooner I figured out that I was teaching “future convicts” the better I would be.

Now, I needed a job so I had to be careful about my response. But I was hurt and I was mad. I told him respectfully that I disagreed and that I would make sure I proved him wrong. He looked at me again and said, “You can’t do the impossible.”  I left his office. I left because I didn’t want to cry in front of him. That night I called my Dad. He reminded me of something that he had told me a million times…..”The impossible is only impossible until someone does it.”

And so that is what I did. I would not allow anyone at that school to believe that my students could not be successful. I challenged my kids. I was honest with them-they knew. I showed them statistics. We worked hard. We celebrated hard as well. I spent more money that year than probably all other years on rewards for my kids. At the end of the year, my little class of 8 students had the highest percentage of MAP growth in the entire school (it was the 2^nd year we had taken MAP in the district), not one student had been suspended after my initial meeting with the principal, we had only 1 fight-it was because a gen ed student called me fat and one of my students hit him (love that kid), and 3 of my 8 were taken out of my classroom and put back into gen ed with resource support, 1 was placed on consult, and 2 were being mainstreamed for ELA and Math. I did the impossible.

But it wasn’t the impossible. It is what every teacher should do……..believe in their kids.  Do the impossible. Never give up on your students. Never. They are one caring adult from being successful. And I really would like to find that administrator and let him know that out of the 8 I had that year only 1 served time. The rest are doing very well-two are in the military, one works for the city of Union, one owns his own landscaping company, one works at a daycare, one I lost touch with but I know he graduated SHS, and one completed her degree at SMC and is working at a business here in Spartanburg.

Do the impossible.

None of dat

When Rosebro2 was in second grade, he was a math wiz. Because I’ve paid for a geometry tutor all year, I wish I could take him back to these 2^nd grade years. He just got math at a level that most of the kids in his class did not. At the time, the second grade level a timed test on fact families. He breezed past the addition one so fast he could have run a mile after completing the 100 addition problems and still have time left. Until you passed addition, you could not go onto the subtraction test.

Yet, he could not seem to pass the subtraction timed test. His teacher and I met and couldn’t figure out how he could not finish and how he got so many wrong. I talked with him, but he just said, “subtraction iz bifficuff.” I continued to be so very baffled. I bought flashcards. I downloaded a ridiculous rap song that we sang in the car- which by the way will occasionally sneak up in my head and be there for hours.  Still, he wasn’t finishing the subtraction test in the allotted time and was making tons of mistakes.

Fast forward to student led conferences. I was unable to attend. His Dad attended. During this conference his Dad started questioning him about this subtraction issue. Rosebro2 could never lie to his Dad. This is not a gift that I share. His Dad started digging deep and discovered that he was purposefully not passing the subtraction test. He was failing and not finishing on purpose. He had heard that if you pass the addition, you had to start multiplication timed test and in his words, “I not haffing none of dat!”

Digging deeper. Rosebro2 got hurt during wrestling. He hid it. I knew he was spending a lot of time in his room but I, well, I left him alone. I mean, um, he is, um, a teenage boy…..I don’t go snooping in their rooms. I only found out when I went into his room one night to turn out his lamp and found an ice pack on his knee. I could not understand why he was hiding this from me. He knows that I would get him to a doctor. He knows that I would stop at nothing to make sure he was okay. Then, I dug a little deeper. He hid his injury because he didn’t want to go into the training room. He hid his injury not because he did not want to get better. He hid it because he refuses to go into the training room He misses his Dad just too much.

Digging deeper. There is always something behind every behavior. I had a student one year that would start acting insane around 1 every day. It took me forever and many behavior charts later to figure out that her parents didn’t have a phone. If I sent her to the office, the assistant principal always called Grandmother and she would pick her up. Turns out her StepDad was home when she got off the bus and he was doing awful things to her before her Mom came home from work. There is always something behind the behaviors. I regret so much how long it took me to dig deep for that one. This is one of my greatest educational regrets.

Digging deeper. I recently had a parent who was so angry. At one point in our meeting, I was scared she would come over my desk and beat me. She would not listen. She would not stop yelling and seeing past what happened. I finally was able to ask her to take a breath. I told her that we would fix the problem and then I just said, “I feel like there is something more than you being upset with Mrs. XXXX?” The mom immediately starting crying. She reached into her purse and pulled out a letter. It was past due notice on her power. Then she told me she got fired a few weeks ago. She was behind on her rent. She literally had no idea what she going to do. At that moment we started making a plan. We forgot about how mad she was. In fact, at the end of the meeting, she apologized and told me not to even talk to the teacher.

Digging deeper. It takes time. It takes patience. It is not always obvious. But there is always something behind every action. We, as educators, have a responsibility to figure it out. Failing to do so, in the words of Rosebro2, “I not haffing none of dat!”

Forgive my obsession

Okay, I admit it. I’m a bit of a Frozen II nut. I’m a 46-year-old mom of two boy teenagers, and I’ve been listening to the soundtrack by myself. Without my any kids. I love Frozen II so much that my boys purchased me the soundtrack for my car. I love this movie and watched it late into the night Friday night. Saturday on my way out of town, I annoyed my children to no end listening to these songs without stopping.

Maybe it’s because I’ve listened to the soundtrack a million times and watched the movie twice this weekend, but during that second viewing this weekend, I realized how very much the Frozen II songs remind me of teaching.

If you have never seen Frozen II (and you might want to one day), I am probably going to throw out some spoilers.

So, if you have not seen the movie, this is a sequel to the amazing Frozen movie that came out in 2014. Elsa the Snow Queen has an extraordinary gift -- the power to create ice and snow. But no matter how happy she is to be surrounded by the people of her kingdom, Arendelle, Elsa finds herself strangely unsettled. After hearing a mysterious voice call out to her, Elsa travels to the enchanted forests and dark seas beyond her kingdom. This embarks an adventure that soon turns into a journey of self-discovery. Elsa’s sister, Anna, is left to once again search for her sister and make decisions for Arendelle.

The first thing that made me realize Frozen II is like teaching is that SOME THINGS NEVER CHANGE. If you need to listen to this song CLICK HERE. This is the first big song of the movie and Anna and Olaf’s duet. The irony is that everything does change soon after they finish singing this song. But Olaf is the youthful spirit of the movie. He needs stability and the reassurance of routine. And so do our students. Rules, routines, and knowing the safety of their classroom helps our students achieve. Some of our students, and not just those who you would think, face a terrible life at 2:30 every afternoon. They hold on tight to the structure and routine that we can provide at school.  

My next favorite song of the movie is Into the Unknown. You can hear it BY CLICKING HERE. Elsa is about embark on a scary new adventure with lots of unknowns. She is using unshakeable bravery in starting this new adventure. Doesn’t this remind you of yourself? Have you ever switched grade levels? Switched schools? Implemented a new strategy? Worked terribly hard at incorporating technology into your teaching? Learned new standards? It is not easy going into the unknown. In fact, it is scary as heck. But we do it one foot in front of the other just like Elsa.

Olaf, the world’s favorite snowman, has an amazing solo. I sing it almost every day when I am wanting to lose my temper. The song can be found HERE. Olaf perfectly captures the innocent belief of our students that they can’t wait to be an adult, but it also reminds me that we are constantly trying to help our students and ourselves to be LIFELONG learners.

 And in a song we could all get behind, Just do the next right thing is my most favorite song on the soundtrack. It can be heard HERE.

Honestly, I’d love to see “just do the next right thing” hanging as advice in every classroom. It’s such a great mantra for teachers and for kids when things get hard. Sometimes, doing the next right thing is as simple as asking a student a question. Sometimes, it’s turning out the lights and doing a read aloud with a flashlight. Sometimes it’s reading one more page or solving one more problem. The trick is tuning into that inner voice that tells us what to do. Sometimes it is shutting the books and just talking with your students. Sometimes it is throwing away your lesson plans and do what it is front of you rather than what you had planned.

So, while I watch this movie and listen to this soundtrack, just know that it is Professional Development. Always look for ways that the things that kids love can inspire you. This movie sure did for me!

Not my JOB

In one of my first years teaching, a student set his classroom on fire. The teacher had just completed a science lab with the class. The class was then headed to PE. The student asked the teacher if he could get his jacket and returned to the room unaccompanied. While in the class, he took the lighter the teacher had used, poured some of the rubbing alcohol that was used in the experiment all over a couple of book bags, and then set them on fire. A janitor spotted the smoke and we evacuated the building.

The principal was on a field trip to Barrier Island (long before cell phone days) and the Assistant Principal was in court dealing with an issue we had had earlier in the year. The secretary handed everything over to a staff member who did not have a teaching position. I mean, someone, needed to be in charge of what was going on during a cold January day with almost 900 kids and over 100 faculty members outside. I’ll never forget that staff member looking at me and saying, “I didn’t sign up for this. Not my job.”

Luckily for us our PE teacher took charge. She told everyone where to go and what to do. She handled things. Remember there were no cell phones to call and orchestrate help. She worked with the teachers, she handled the firemen. Once we were able to go back into the school, she moved 6 classrooms for the rest of the day, and probably a whole lot of other stuff I didn’t know about. She just did it. She did it because it needed to get done to keep the students safe that day.

On Thursday afternoon as I was walking home. (Yes, I could not make it all the way to my house because of downed trees). I was thinking about the day's events and my mind rolled back to that day at EP Todd. The words of that faculty member “I didn’t sign up for this. Not my job” rang in my head. I praised God that I didn’t see that on my staff Thursday. I saw people standing in the rain helping kids into cars. I saw teachers running to the computer lab to comfort 1^st graders who were stuck in there rather than with their teacher. I saw staff members making a makeshift lunch. I saw teachers holding children who were scared even when they were scared as well. I saw teachers making kids laugh. I saw teachers staying in a building when all they needed and wanted to do was to go get their own children and check on their own homes. I saw my AP more concerned about the safety of getting every student into a car than the fact that his own car had been destroyed by a fallen tree.

There are so many parts of this job of education that are not listed on a job description. No one ever told me I would have to clean up vomit, be thrown up on, or change clothes of a student who had explosive diarrhea. No one ever told me I would hold a student’s fearful hand as they are being removed from their parent’s custody to parts and people unknown with the heavy weight of knowing that while I did the right thing I was the one that made the call to DSS. No one ever told me that I would have to listen to a student detail the sexual abuse at the hands of her father. No one ever told me that I would watch Tic Tok videos into the night trying to untangle a discipline issue. No one ever told me that I would have to figure out what was compost and what is not compost. No one ever told me that I would have more meetings that a CFO. No one ever told me that I would stay awake at night worrying about some of my kids. No one ever told me that I would confuse CVC and CVS. No one ever told me that I would secretly love when a kid calls me Mom or that when they come back and see me the pride I feel could make the hardest of hearts soften. It is not my job.

So thank you for not doing your job. It makes the world of difference.

Other 7

Last Sunday I got out of the bed for the first time in 3 days. I had been so very sick with the flu but I needed to make sure my boys had food for lunch boxes the next week and I was out of cough medicine. Did you know you have to be 18 to purchase cough meds? Me either, until last week.  I did my online grocery order and had Rosebro2 take me to Walmart to pick up my groceries. While out, we stopped by CVS for a second round of cough meds and then because I wanted it, we stopped at Sonic for my favorite drink- diet cherry limeade. While waiting in the drive through for my drink and his slushy, Rosebro2 was looking at his phone and got a horrific look on his face. I knew immediately his heart was hurt. He told me that ESPN was reporting that Kobe Bryant had died in a helicopter crash.

My boys love Kobe. Not a day goes by in our house that someone doesn’t throw something at the trash, to each other, in a book bag, or to the dog without yelling “Kobe”.  Rosebro2 really liked him. As we traveled home in mostly silence, I thought about Kobe’s wife and his kids. As someone who has lost both parents and my husband, all rather unexpectedly, my heart hurt for Kobe’s wife and kids. As the hours passed by on Sunday, it was discovered that Kobe had his daughter with him. Again my mind raced to Kobe’s wife and my heart hurt again for this women I’ll never know.

As I watched the news coverage last week about this amazing athlete’s death along with his little girl, I was saddened at the coverage of the “7 others” who were killed. I am not sure why, but I felt the need to discover who these 7 others were. One assistant coach, who coached ,alongside Kobe Bryant, young girls in their love of basketball.  She left home that day her husband and three little ones at home. There was a mom and daughter, also a team member, who left behind a husband and dad. There was the pilot who I really can’t find much information about. Then there was a Dad, Mom, and their daughter. The Dad was a college baseball coach. I prayed when I first read about them that this was their only daughter. But it wasn’t to be. They had an adult son and a teenage daughter. I prayed for that daughter. I worried about how she found out and if she was alone and how long she was alone until someone came to her.

I’m not sure why I entangled myself into the stories of Kobe Bryant, his daughter GiGi, and “the 7 others” killed in this crash. Maybe it is because I’m still grieving the loss of my parents and my husband. I grieve every single day. Maybe it’s because a giant like Kobe Bryant isn’t supposed to die at such a young age and surely his daughter at 13 isn’t supposed to die. Just maybe it is another reminder of how very short life can be and that we should make the most of every moment. Maybe because of everything I’ve been through, I wonder about when my time will be. I am so thankful to have lived 46 years. I know that many haven’t. I’m glad to have found the love of my life and had two amazing children with him. I am super excited to watch as one heads to college in the fall and the other figures out the awkward teenage years. I pray that I make it old enough to see them fall in love, get married, and have babies of their own.

And then I think about what will happen next? Will I be remembered? Have I made a difference in this world? Have I made an impact on anyone, anything, or any system? So as I ponder “the other 7” I pause and reflect on what it is I’ve done and what I can do.

Then at the end of the week a 1^st grade student came and read to me. His story was simple. His confidence was not. I may never fill stadiums and people may never pay to see me, but for a small moment of time, I was a legend to one child. And I can never ask for anything more.