I've never met a teacher that doesn't have dreams about school. And by dreams, I mean nightmares. In fact, for the first five years I taught, I think I had a "school dream" almost every night. It was exhausting. When I woke up every day I felt like I'd just spent seven hours in front of kids teaching. And I had to get up and do it all again. Sometimes I taught complete lessons in my sleep filled with uncontrollable students heckling me and missing materials. And yes, all you Freud lovers, I even had the dream where I arrived at school in my underwear.
Thank goodness, every year I teach results in more infrequent school dreams. The exception to that being in August when the new school year is a few weeks away. Watch for teacher facebook posts around mid-August and you'll see them proclaiming that the "school dreams are back!" or some such reference to the start of school. This dream always sadly marks the return to school mode for us and the end of summer.
The subconscious is a funny place. Although I think of class management as one of my strengths, it never fails that my school dream is always one where the students are being defiant and unruly and I am unable to control them. Needless to say I wake up from these dreams, heart pounding and filled with anxiety, worried that I might get a class that I am unable to handle.
As the years have passed, some of the dreams are now happier, less nerve wracking dreams and I'm sometimes even able to dream up an activity or lesson that I actually try in my classroom. Although,speaking honestly, it always sounds better in the middle of the night. I take this as a sign that I am finally, after fourteen years, adjusting to life in a classroom.
So last night I had a dream that a teacher friend across the hall died. Very unnerving as this dream was pretty clear and not as jumbled up as many dreams are with time and place. She is a young, healthy teacher and of course, I became distressed and sad in my dream, awakening feeling uneasy. So, naturally the first thing I did was google dream interpretations and looked at what that dream might possibly mean. Bottom line was that it said there will be a change in our relationship, perhaps by distance or a move. This magical dream interpretation computer site declared that I was trying to deal with the upcoming change. Hmmmmm.
As soon as I arrived at school this morning, I stopped by this teacher friend's room to relay my dream. At first a little horrified by the darkness of my dreaming of her death, she clapped her hands and smiled when I informed her what Dream Interpretations.com said it all meant.
She clapped her hands together. "I'm ready for a change. Or a move!"
Way to look at the positive side.
If you are a teacher, you know the school dreams I am talking about. The places where all of our insecurities and fears turn into monsters. And my, oh my, we already have enough stress and strife in our waking teaching life.
So to all you dreamers, and teachers, here's hoping your nights are filled with sweet dreams.
The thing is, in the life of a teacher as soon as the bell rings, you take off running at about 100 miles per hour. All day. We can multi-task like no other human being on earth. For example, today as I juggled a stack of freshly copied papers with my morning cup of coffee and some laminated pictures and headed towards my room I was already planning what I needed to do in my room once I made it there. Or more like, if I made it there.
The morning arrival is an onslaught of kids handing you notes and homework and asking you questions or telling you stories. Throw in checking attendance, making sure lunch count is being done, reviewing the morning schedule, organizing the notes and lunch money for the office and by 9:15 I'm already tired. Good thing little kids are full of energy, that in turn, energizes me.
Lunch time is the one time where things slow down for a short time and I always wander around the room, talking to some of the kids or just eavesdropping on their conversations. They are so cute and interesting, innocent and positive. They are not afraid to speak their mind and watching them interact conversationally with their peers is always a treat. They are like mini-adults at a cocktail party, carefully picking topics of interest and sharing their thoughts as they sip their little juice boxes and tiny cartons of milk.
Today as I rifled through one of my classroom closets for something that would no doubt not be found in there anyway, I overheard several little ones at a table talking about burps. Sad to say, that this is not a rare conversation but what was interesting is they appeared to be competing about how much their mothers burped and selecting a winning mom. I tried not to laugh as I edged closer to the table.
"Well, I'm telling you, my mom never burps," stated one as he bit into his ham sandwich.
"So, then you lose," declared another. "Cuz my mom burps all the time."
One of the girls giggled at this point. Then she picked up a cheese stick as she added, "Well, my mom can burp, but she only does it when it's appropriate."
Her friend validated her with a nod. "Yeah. Burps are disgusting. So my mom only does it when we can't hear her."
I love girls. Somehow in this conversation they were making their moms out to be burpers, but in the most delicate way possible.
I would have hung around to listen in some more, but I could hear a nearby table talking about who could eat their lunch backwards the fastest.
And I certainly wasn't going to miss that.
So, yesterday when I pouted about not getting a snowman built outside our classroom window during recess, one of the little darlings commented, "Well we would have built one but we didn't have a carrot!"
(spoiler alert)
Today, when I packed my lunch I opened up the produce drawer in the frig and grabbed a nice, fat, orange carrot. There would be no excuses today! The temperature would reach 35 degrees by recess - the perfect weather for snowman building. These little darlings have twenty-five minutes outside to frolic and play and certainly could spare a few minutes to roll and create a snowman. It's what kids do.
Once at school, I sat the carrot on the back table and forgot about it until the kids arrived. As per usual, it didn't take more than a nanosecond for two or three of the cuties to notice the unexpected item in the middle of the table.
One ventured over and picked it up. "Is this a carrot?" he asked waving it in the air so the others would see.
I was ignoring the commotion on purpose just to see what would happen. I was trying not to smile. "Come on. Hustle up people. We have a busy day," I said waving them to their seats.
Meanwhile, there was a small crowd at the back table passing the carrot around trying their best to figure out this anomaly. A carrot on the back table just had to be explained. But I remained deadpan and somehow managed to corral them to their seats, leaving the carrot behind.
When they were settled I zoomed in my focus on the carrot commenter from yesterday.
I pointed to our daily schedule on the board and reviewed each activity as I do every day. But when I got to "Recess" I squealed, "Well, I don't know about all of you, but I simply can't wait for recess today. You can build me a snowman because I brought you in a carrot!"
The majority of them broke into a relieved laugh and nodded, mostly because they were glad the carrot was simply just a carrot and not some crazy experiment or idea that their teacher had conjured up. You never know.
The carrot sat there all morning as we worked around it for math and writer's workshop and lunch. And then, a few minutes before recess I collected the carrot and handed it over to the boy who insisted a snowman was impossible without one.
"You are the keeper of the carrot," I informed him. "You can make sure it makes its way to our snowman. Outside my window. That you're going to build."
He beamed ear to ear as he took the carrot in both hands. He had a big responsibility and he was not about to let it get away.
As they bundled up in their snow stuff, I noticed he carefully handed the carrot to a friend to hold while he zipped up and tucked in. It was handled with a careful touch.
They didn't disappoint. If I haven't yet mentioned this year, they are an amazing bunch of kids. Kind. Considerate. Honest. Curious. Helpful. Smart.
I have outside my classroom window, a 4' tall, carrot-nosed, rock-eyed snowman made especially for me.
And as any teacher on earth knows, that is more precious than gold.
