Can You Hear Me Now?

I'm blaming it on the round tables in my room.  The fact that it seems so much louder this year in my classroom.  By now, the fifth week into the new school year, loudness is usually not an issue.  By now, the kids know the signals for quieting down when the volume gets too much.  But every day, several times a day, I'm using every technique known to teachers to shush my class and quiet them down.   

A good teacher friend actually suggested the idea of the round tables allowing more noise to travel around my room.  I was perched in my doorway during lunch, watching the kids eat, and in all honesty, trying to get a little quiet in the hallway/doorway.  My friend passed by, and as us teachers usually do, I called her name so I could have a few precious minutes of adult conversation and simultaneously not have to watch the not so appetizing table manners of a few little ones.  Case in point, one boy trying to shove the entire hot dog into his mouth at once while three others looked on with a combination of intrigue and disgust.

So, after heading over to the hot dog eating boy and quietly telling him there was not a hot dog eating contest today, I scurried back to the doorway before my friend could disappear.  It helps that this teacher friend's darling little boy is in my class.  It was a win - win.  I knew I would get a few good minutes of conversation from her and she could check-in and see her child.

"Is it just me or does this room seem really noisy?" I asked her, throwing my hands in the air. 

She peeked in, scanned the room and made a concerned face.  

"Well, it is lunch," she said, trying to bail me out.  "Lunch is always noisy."  

But I could tell she was looking for an escape.  She wanted to go join her teacher friends in some peace and quiet.  But I wasn't going to let her get away so fast.

"True," I agreed.  "But my room sounds like this the better part of the day, it seems."  I shrugged.  "I will say, though, that they are almost always talking about what they should be during class - it's not like they are just talking to talk."

"Well, I think it's because of the round tables," she said.  She waved her arm back and forth in the air.  "There aren't any big desks to absorb some of the sound.  It's all open in here - which is great - but it may create more noise." 

"Of course!" I exclaimed.  "I think you're right."

I was buoyed by the thought that it had nothing to do with my classroom management and was more to do with science. 

We both looked across the hall into the fourth grade room with large desks grouped together around the room. Then we looked back into my room.  

"They really aren't talking that loudly," she continued.  "It just sounds like they are."  

At this,I was interrupted by a little one tugging on my arm asking for assistance opening a package.  Naturally, my teacher friend used this for a perfect escape and headed down the hallway, waving and smiling. 

I helped my little friend open her carrots, reminded two others to wash their table off, and smiled and nodded at another who was telling me a story about the macaroni and cheese she was eating.  

When the kids went to art after lunch and I sat in my still, quiet room, I thought about the noise level and the tables and kids.  Could it be that it really was noisier but it was due to the set-up of the room?  I know my class management is what it has always been.  I don't mind talking, and love a good discussion, but it's the volume this year that seems out of sync.  

Today, during chess, which is supposed to be a quiet game, I listened to the noise.  I walked around the room and as the volume seemed to increase, I sat in on conversations and watched the kids play.   

Here is some of what I heard:

"You can't move the knight there.  It moves on a diagonal!" explained one little girl.

"Check!" exclaimed another.  And then he followed up with, "But you can block me with your rook."

"I didn't like chess before, but now it's so fun to play!" said another, talking loudly.

"Can you help me?  Does a knight move like this?  Or like this?" asked another player.

And round tables or not they were all engaged.  And they were all talking about chess.

And even though it sounds like loud noise sometimes to me, I'm thinking that what it really sounds like is  learning. 

The Few... The Proud

It was a bit of a difficult week, positivity wise.  Probably just the month of September in general, with all the crazy, hectic things taking place as we returned to school.  Thank goodness for all my wonderful teacher friends who wouldn't allow me to wallow in self pity or negativity.  I received gifts on my desk and even some flowers.  So, how could I not feel happy and positive?  

This week I've been thinking about what a teacher does.  How we put all our problems or

worries aside each day when the bell rings to devote our attention, and ourselves to the kids.  We teach and nurture our students - that is our focus.  The morning bell signals "game on" and not until the end-of-day bell do we return to our own lives.  We don't get to leave the building for lunch or come and go as we please.   We can't get phone calls or schedule doctor appointments during the day.  We have more important things to do.

Who else but a teacher can manage twenty-something students of all abilities, personalities, anxieties, and make it look easy? Five days a week.

Who else but a teacher can quiet a room full of kids down in under ten seconds flat? Anytime.  Anywhere.

Who else can supervise a classroom full of kids eating lunch, while opening pudding for one, monitoring the microwave operator for safety, and eating their own lunch at the same time?

Who else can make studying geography feel like a trip to Disney World?

Who else can make a kid want to do better, be better, and become better?  

Who else can get a kid excited about writing? Or math? Or reading?

Who else can push a little one to build independence and confidence to be the best student they can be?

Who else is so outnumbered yet somehow manages to be in charge?

Who else is simultaneously a nurse, a counselor, a leader, a role model, a tutor, a coach, a friend, and a teacher, all day long?  And, remember, I'm talking about with twenty+ kids.

Who else can do science experiments, quiet a group of kids by reading a book, coordinate rides home and activities at the end of each day, supervise a playground, model and teach respect and compassion, find missing homework, and smile, smile, smile!  

Friday, I had my students think like scientists and sort and organize beads into different categories and explain their reasoning.   Yes. That's right.  Twenty-four eight year olds with a cup of 50-60 small multi-colored, multi-shaped beads on their desk.  All at one time. Of course, I explained to them that we needed to try and keep the beads on the place mat where they were to organize.   Did I really think they could do it?? You bet I did.  Even more, I knew they could do it.  I told them so.   And then they began.  I watched as they carefully (in partner groups) poured the beads onto their sorting paper.  When a bead would go astray, they quickly set it back into place.  It was a true work of art.  They were so proud of themselves.  I was proud, too.  That after only eighteen days of school, my class was already becoming a true community of learners.

Did a bead or two race across the floor?  Yes.  Did some kids play with them for a bit before sorting them?  Yes.   Did they learn?  Yes.  Did they discuss ideas with their partner?  Yes.  Did they argue a bit?  Some.  But that's all part of the deal. Learning can sometimes be a messy, loud, busy thing.

I'm happy to report that my negativity did not last long last week. It's like that when you work with small children.  You can't allow yourself to not be, and give 100% to the students.  

And since they handled the beads with such care, I can't wait to see them with all the fun activities we have planned this year!

Two Week Notice

The students at my school are lucky.  They have the most fabulous Spanish teacher in the world!  Just ask them; they'll tell you.   I always try out my Spanish speaking skills, learned forgotten from way back in high school, as I drop my kids off and pick them up.  She always smiles and nods as I crudely pronounce and mispronounce words and expressions!

"Muy caliente!" I proclaimed to her one day as I motioned out the window last June and fanned my face.   She giggled.

And then she explained that it's best to say, "Hace calor" as "muy caliente" is translated more as "I'm hot".  As in a hot chick, type way.  I giggled back at yet another epic fail in my attempt at bilingualism.  

Our Spanish teacher always has a bright smile on her face.  Even though she teaches over four hundred and fifty students every week, she glides through the hallways cheerfully. Occasionally, she has to give her room up for meetings and then she takes to her cart and wheels around the school, colorful paper flowers and fun games precariously hanging off the cart.  

Two weeks ago, as I picked up my little ones from Spanish, the Spanish teacher walked with me as she often does down the hallway, chatting and catching up.   She told me that she was moving to New York and would be leaving in two weeks.  She had the brightest smile on her face.  She beamed ear to ear. I joined in, and although all I could think of was how much I would miss seeing her, I smiled back.  

"That's fantastic news!" I said, congratulating her.  "But I sure will miss you."  I made a sad face.  

With that, I led the twenty-four little boys and girls back to class, silently thinking of how happy I was for her and her upcoming adventures. 

[flash forward two weeks]

"Why did Senora leave?"  one of my little ones asked, yanking on my arm as we headed to Spanish.  

"Well, I think it was time for a change," I told her, smiling down at her head of curls, trying to cheer her.  "Things change.  People change.  Life changes..."  I trailed off, lost in my own thoughts for a few moments.    The little one looked confused at my ramblings and struck up a conversation with a more interesting friend in line about recess. 

"We're gonna get a MAN Spanish teacher," one of my boys exclaimed as we neared the Spanish room.  

"Oh, no you're not!"  I said.  "You're gonna get a señor!"    

They chuckled as they headed off into the Spanish room.  I have no information as to the new spanish teacher, señor or señora, and wondered for a moment where he had obtained his news. 

As I walked back to class, I thought of our wonderful Spanish teacher.  I envied her for getting the chance to move somewhere new and decide what she wants to do next. I loved hearing her stories of summer travels, and attempting to speak Spanish with her. I admired her stylish outfits and her sense of humor. I looked forward to seeing her when I dropped my kids off and picked them up two times a week.  Even though we work in the same school, many days, that was the only time I got to chat with her and see her. 

So, dear Spanish teacher, I know I speak for all of us when I say that we will miss you very much at Way.  After fifteen years of working side-by-side, It just won't be the same without you.  We wish you nothing but good times.

Adios.  Estamos en contacto.