Hugs and a Cheesecake

Yesterday I told my students about my mom dying. I also warned them I would be gone from school next week.

My first block students were horrified that 1) I'd be gone ALL next week ("Who will help us?") and 2) that my mother had died.

Andrea looked at me with real concern. "I'm so sorry," she whispered.

"Thank you," I replied.

"My mom died, too," she added and her eyes pooled with tears.

At that, so did mine. "I'm so sorry," I repeated to her. And we held hands for just a second.

Johnisha asked what she could bring me. I told her that her good wishes were enough.

"No. I will bring you something."

Today she showed up first block with a huge strawberry cheesecake. And a letter. It was the letter that was priceless. She had written it in pencil on thin lined paper and she had filled the page with deeply heart-felt sentiment. She quoted the Bible, she quoted her mother, and she told me she loved me. It was the sweetest letter I've ever gotten from a student. I may frame it. I will certainly treasure it always.

We will eat the cheesecake 4th block with her fellow students. That will undoubtedly be the best cheesecake in the world.

In first block, World History, as I was preparing my kids to be ready for a quiz on Monday (because I would not be there), the kids were glum. Then the teacher told the kids that their homework assignment was to tell their parents that they loved them. My crew, all ten girls, looked straight at me.

Megan said it first. "I love you, Mrs. Wiggins."

"Why, sweetie, I love you, too."

The bell rang and as each girl filed out, they leaned over and hugged me and whispered in my ear, "I love you Mrs. Wiggins." One from Iraq, two from Nepal, one from someplace Asia, and the rest SPED.

I could barely get out of the room without breaking down.

So much love from kids who live a harder life in one day than I've ever really had to face. That much affection, offered so freely and without any encouragement, simply must make one feel -- I'm not sure what to say. Feel overwhelmed? Yes. Special? Certainly. Lucky? Beyond a doubt.

The gift of love is the most precious one you can receive. Today I was loved beyond measure.

Thank you world for this opportunity. The work may be hard -- but the rewards are beyond compare.

And so it begins . . .

Year 2011 - 2012. In teaching, it's my 28th year. In dog years . . . why I'd be dead.

Went to the school today, carried a load of stuff up to my room. It's in disarray but not as bad as I expected. I looked around, unloaded the crap I had brought over (summer magazines, a couple of new posters) and tried to decide how I felt about being "back." I didn't break down and cry. I didn't need to sit and compose myself. So I guess I felt, well, okay.

Downstairs on the first floor I mailed off my sealed transcript for my salary boost and felt, well, next to nothing. Talked with the registrar and tried to find out where this nice luncheon was that I had been invited to attend. Found out that it really wasn't a nice luncheon at all but a whole district affair with way too many people and was being held in our uncomfortable and inhospitable cafeteria.

In the cafeteria it was a zoo. Too many people and way too hot and noisy and loud. Finally found my school group, met my mentee (I'm her mentor), and with my principal's lead, we got in line for food. But they had just run out of food. Honestly. Can you believe that? They still had cookies and brownies which the new folks loaded up on, but in that heat I wasn't about to load up on sweet things.

All the new teachers hired by my principal are white. Jeez. The woman really does not have a clue. White. For a school with less than 10% white students. Everyone of us advised her at the end of the year to start putting some color into her staff composition -- but nope. Every single new hire is lily white.

Tried to decide how that made me feel and well, I felt tired. Not mad or upset. Just tired. Somethings just never change.

After our non-lunch I walked my mentee around the building and introduced her to the counselors, showed her where her room was located. We talked and talked. She's young. She seems to really want a job as a teacher -- she's been a paraprofessional for the last five years or so. She also seems a bit scared. She asked me four times if I was going to be at school on Monday to help her figure things out. "When will you get to school on Monday?" she asked twice.

Today I arrived at school at 11:30 and gratefully left at one. I departed very hot, very sweaty, and very tired. I had briefly met my two collab / co-teachers and each one seemed, well, okay. Even though I hadn't had lunch I wasn't hungry, though Hubby thoughtfully took me out and made sure I had something to eat.

I'm not sorry that school's starting, I guess. I'm certainly not thrilled, either. I'm, well, okay with it. And I'm still tired. Some things don't seem to change.

Almost There!

It's not time to pop the cork yet but the glasses are chilling and the ice is in the freezer.

I'm O N E day away from finishing up the two grad papers I put off until summer.

O N E day.

That day is for the final re-reading to a make sure no gross errors exist and that I covered most of the topics demanded by the rubric.

On Friday I expect I'll deliver the papers to the college center, pop the cork on the carbonated grape juice and collapse in a heap with doggies frolicking in glee that no more curse words and ugly voices are hollering from the computer room.

So Much Harder than Even I Expected

Friday was the first day of summer vacation -- meaning the first day away from the dreaded 5 a.m. "grumbling out of bed" routine and putting on "business casual clothing" and combing my hair. Instead I stayed up Thursday night until 3 a.m. -- and got out of bed at 8 a.m., lolled around without my underwear, and ate when the mood struck me. I designated myself a three day weekend before I even began to tackled the "paper writing hell" that awaited me on Monday.

I must admit though, if I thought about the papers ahead of me, my stomach churned and my heart raced and my brain said, "Ho! Ho! You KNEW it would catch up to you!"


This morning I stumbled out of bed at 9 a.m. after finishing a Kindle novel and reading the KC Star on the Kindle. I swallowed the blood pressure meds and two strong aspirin "just in case" and opened the file for the most challenging of the papers. And . . . promptly realized I was in deep dodo. I honestly don't know how to do this stuff. I know I sat through an entire semester doing all these webinars about functional learners and strategies for them -- and gagged through almost all of it, swearing I'd never do this stuff.


Here's how bad are the case files for the students I have to write inclusion plans for: one 15 year old (in the 6th grade) had to have eye drops at 7 a.m. 11 a.m. and 2 p.m. The only way to get him to lie still and take the eye drops was to pretend the drops were a train and go "choo choo choo" as you put them in. That was just one of his problems. Another uses picture language to communicate because she's bi-lingual at home and her teachers claim they can't understand her.


How in the world do parents, clinicians, teachers, paraprofessionals, home care providers cope with all this?


I could not. Ever. I know that's probably a deficit in me. But I was never cut out to do this kind of work and I don't want to waste my time at this stage in my life pretending that I can / could / or even know how.


So . . . since I had already chatted with the prof for permission to elevate the students I had to plan for to high school level -- I put them all in MY high school, explained the building and our scheduling in an introduction -- and dropped the poor "choo choo" kid from the program, even though that was discrimination. Poor kid couldn't cope with our five story building with no elevators under any circumstances and I didn't want to figure out how to make it happen. I decided to let the chips fall where they may.


This means I only have four students to schedule and write lesson plans for. It's cheating, I know. But at least I'm recognizing the limitations facing some kids -- and where they should not be placed. Maybe I'll get some credit for that. And maybe not.


I'm studying the rubric for the paper closely -- if I can pull a B on the paper, I'm just fine with that. I'm actually figuring out what portions of the paper I can either avoid or skim over. I've got two weeks to figure this plan out (internal schedule that I set). The one after this one is not nearly so hard (fingers crossed) and I've given myself a week for that one.

If Rumpelstiltskin showed up about now, I'd have to think hard about trading something dear for two completed papers.

Finals Finally

I dragged into the last of the first of my grad classes last night.

Confused? I've been that way all semester. Let me see if I can straighten out that sentence.

My Thursday class held its final session last night. I have one more last class to attend on Saturday morning - the other three hour class of the semester. The assignment for last evening was to present a part of our big project to the class. Except, of course, I have taken an incomplete in the course so I can start, write, and complete the project in June once teaching is over for the year. The prof asked me present information on co-teaching (for which I won the award way back in December). I presented, it went well, and at the end of the class, the professor announced that anyone carrying an A in the class would not need to take the final exam. I sighed and waited to be told that because I hadn't done any of the major project, I must take the exam (I do have a mid-level A for the work I've completed -- 94.75% of the grade). Patting me on the shoulder, the professor said to me, "You're currently carrying an A. No need to take the final."

Imagine me running through the hallowed halls of the office building that houses the Pitt State metro campus pumping my fist wildly in the air and singing "DO-DA, DO-DA! Of course I didn't do that, but I did create the scene in my brain. I hugged the woman! "Thank you for your patience! And thank you for NOT making me take the dreaded final. I'm forever grateful!" I exclaimed as I dashed out of the class -- just in case she was about to change her mind.

For the first time since February of this year, I didn't carry a dreaded weight right in the pit of my stomach. Oh, that's a lie. The weight is still there because two projects have to be completed in June -- but it's a lighter weight and I could sleep the night through with this one, not wake up and worry and plan how to survive another test and another weekly assignment.

For the Saturday class, I did complete the Intervention notebook -- one of the two big projects for that class (the other one is waiting until June). On Saturday we present lessons from the notebook but I've already been graded on the book -- got 100% on it. My lessons have been copied and stapled since the start of May so I'm ready to go for Saturday morning.

To celebrate, Hubby has arranged for his family's house on Chesapeake Bay to be ours for the middle of July. All I have to do to be ready to go is complete two large projects in June. One will go easy -- but the other one is a huge sink hole of misery. Still once teaching is over, I can write at midnight and sleep at noon -- and that always makes me a better student.

Invasion

The first indication we got that something B I G was up was in the Monday morning weekly teacher announcements. According to our principal: the teacher parking lot would be unavailable to staff on Wednesday; moreover, the entire bottom level of the building would be "off limits" to staff and students. Later that morning the equipment began to arrive. Now this is not your normal load of equipment. Huge semis pulled into the loading dock. Millions of dollars of sound and video equipment were unloaded in huge crates. Enough cable is being laid to electrify downtown Kansas City, Kansas. When asked what was going to happen on Wednesday to necessitate all this activity, we were greeted with silence. "No one knows," was the standard reply given by even the most inside sources. The people who always know in advance of any really good school gossip also claimed to be equally in the dark. "We can't find out a thing!" was the hue and cry all day Monday. The rumors were rife. The top four were:

1. The President of the United States (or his wife) was coming. Well, there has been no advanced warning of his traveling. You'd think the PR people would be hyping the event. However, clearing the parking lot on Wednesday could mean the arrival of someone by helicopter.


2. Governor of Kansas Brownback was coming to make a big speech about more cuts to education. Well, he's been in this school before -- never did we have such a media circus going on just for the governor.


3. Oprah was coming -- and the reason the parking lot would be off limits was because she was going to present each one of us our own new car! Well, clearly the best of all the rumors, Oprah is in Australia and she would have had the media vans all marked with her Harpo logo.


4. A movie scene is being shot here. Well, we would probably know if a big name movie was being shot in Kansas City and the KC Star (our newspaper) has not published a thing (even in the arts and entertainment sections.

So, what's up? We don't know yet. This morning, Tuesday, it was like a huge concert venue trying to wend out way into the school. The entire lower level is lined with crates of video equipment. Wires and cable are everywhere. Strange, huge trucks line all the access points into the building - and in one this size, there are many entryways. The third floor corner where my room is tucked away is still quiet. We are in the farthest corner away from the auditorium (where we hear the action is going to take place on Wednesday) so the activity has not yet made it into our arena (if it ever will). Everyone is buzzing, though. Stay tuned. If you get a chance and we are in the news tomorrow night, do take a peek at our glorious auditorium (the building itself is on the historic register and was built by the WPA in 1937) -- it truly is a place of outstanding craftsmanship and beauty. And if the President is here -- well, you might want to hear his message, also. ____________________ Tuesday afternoon update: the city spent the day vacuuming the lawn and the football field at the high school. Then sent crews around to hand manicure the lawn in the front and side of the building. The city streets and the sidewalks were washed. More equipment arrived. We are told the AP will be in the building tomorrow. My principal came by and asked several of us to attend the "assembly" 3rd block tomorrow -- but only if we agreed to dress-up. After determining that "dressing-up" didn't entail things like panty hose or dresses, I agreed to go. We are quite sure at this point in time tomorrow's arrival will be plenty B I G! Too much money has already been spent sprucing up the area AND the school. Fun times!

Total Self-Absorption

I'm blushing with embarrassment over this post -- talk about self-aggrandizement . . .

Still is was a nice evening last Tuesday and I feel very honored to work in a district that would take this much effort to make an employee feel "valued."

The text is from the monthly district news letter. The first group of pictures show some of those people who nominated me (two are missing), the second and third groups are me accepting the award and making a small speech.

Survival

I made it through the ceremony tonight for the district's teacher of the month award. It was a lovely, warm, embracing presentation and I felt very honored.

Also I didn't fall on my face. I didn't belch at the wrong moment. I smiled pleasantly. The pants of my little velveteen sport suit did not fall down. My red Christmas shoes stayed on my feet.

I certainly didn't know what to do with my hands and desperately wanted to put them in my pockets. But I didn't. Unlike two performers before me I did NOT chew gum.

I made a little joke and everybody laughed. When asked to speak a few words, I was gracious to all my fellow teachers, especially those who had nominated me. I told everyone how proud I was of my school. I smiled at everyone until my cheeks hurt and I was sure my lips were glued into a leering grimace -- consequently the board president complimented me on my positive attitude.

I remembered to say that Hubby would not stand up when my family was introduced -- but he was the largest black man present and sitting in the aisle so nobody could miss him anyway. I felt a little lost when they asked if I didn't have other family members present . . . but I continued to smile as I shook my head no.

My picture was taken about a hundred times. I garnered a really lovely modern trophy on which my name has been etched -- the trophy is honestly as good as the nice ones the #3 phone company used to give out. Every board member came into the audience after the presentations to greet me and shake my hand.

It was a very nice evening -- and we were home eating dinner by 6:30.

Surprise!

The Kansas City Kansas School District consists of 47 schools, an administrative office, approximately 20,000 students and 3,330 employees (1500 of which are teachers). All employees are eligible to be named "employee of the month" - and two are selected each month to represent the entire district. They are nominated by fellow employees and their principals.

Today I was "unofficially" informed that this month I am the KCKSD employee of the month. I was also told that official notification would be sent to me through the mail to my home and that next Tuesday evening I was to be presented to the Board of Education along with the letters of recommendation that accompanied my nomination. The teachers who supported my selection will all be attending the meeting with me.

I am completely "flummoxed." I had no idea that I was even nominated. Those guys can really keep a secret!

The nomination was championed by my high school's language arts coordinator and backed up with letters of recommendation from the English teachers with whom I develop curriculum, along with my two collaborative co-teachers, and the high school's SPED department.

This is truly an honor and certainly one that I never expected to come my way.

I just pray that next Tuesday I don't have to make a speech -- and that I don't look like too much of a dork when they take pictures (good grief!) for the newspaper, the district newsletter, and the web site. Maybe I really should rethink about actually dying my hair . . .

10 Days before a vacation

First block started off with a fight. One of my SPED girls who has been spiraling down into angry despair, flew into World History where I collab with a nice guy who is never in class at the start, found her seat, raced across the room and proceeded to beat the pulp out of another kid. Honestly, for the first time in my career, I just stood there and watched.

Last Friday, the girl's aunt showed up for a conference with us and to announced that I had become the girl's "monster." The aunt has taken over guardianship of the child after a horrible transition that began last March when the family home burned. Since then the kid has been spiralling further and further out of control. I'm the "monster" of course because I'm trying to hold her in place and insist that she follow the rules and do the classroom assignments. The aunt believes the child should be allowed to make her own decisions -- regardless of the consequences. At the end of the meeting, we agreed that she could, in fact, make those decisions until they affected the learning of other students.

Yesterday, instead of agreeing to sit our advisory class, the child elected to sit across the hall in an empty room. Today, however, I allowed her to make the decision to beat up another girl which will, of course, force an entirely new series of events.

A behavior plan will now go into effect through her IEP (which has the almighty power of federal law behind it) and this child will no longer be allowed to make her own decisions. This will occur after a blessed 10 day suspension in which we all get to cool off. Then our little miss can decide to either work with me or go to the behavior discipline room where two huge guys hold sway and allow the kids out of the room only under supervision (no breaks, no lunchroom, no attending class -- all work is done in the smallest classroom possible). You get to pee only with a guard at your side.

Bet I won't seem like such a "monster" after two weeks of this treatment!

And if you detect a note of glee in my words, you'd be right.

Next block a whole stream of staff (teachers, administrators, and I don't know who all) paraded through our junior English collab to see what a real collaboration should look like. We didn't know anyone was coming until 7:30 this morning when my collab partner was called by the vice-principal to announce the impending visitation. We had, of course, planned a parallel teaching lesson -- not the best for seeing how well we actually do collaborate. But we decided to do our initial bell work unit, do a brief discussion of MLA standards in which we actually did a team-unit, and then go our separate ways. The students are writing a term paper -- and we didn't divide the class by SPED vs general ed students -- we divided it along the lines of the topics each group was writing about. Some SPED were with me -- some with the English teacher. Generally my group wanted more hands-on help -- but I also had the five brightest kids in the room with me. We have 35 in the gen ed room -- so this division means we can work with more quiet and in a more one-on-one approach without falling all over each other. We wowed our observers (of course -- we really are a great team) by using both approaches in a 25 minute span.

We spend third block standing in a long line waiting to have our sophomore students hearing and vision checked by a staff of student nurses from the local university. Because no one had planned well, all third floor teachers showed up at once and the university staff yelled at the teachers that we didn't have control of our students and everyone was too noisy. They actually got in our faces and yelled! Meanwhile the kids stood around in long, long lines for 45 to 60 minutes waiting for the tests. Clearly ivory towers have little contact with inner city public schools.

With my world history collab partner we ended the day by planning to give a demonstration tomorrow of how true communism works -- facilitated by a huge pile of really realistic paper money. The kids will love it. But we will be noisy. Money calls for noise for some odd reason.