Sleepwalking

I must have been in about first grade when I walked in my sleep in the middle of a New Hampshire winter. We lived in the woods in an idyllic little spot on 2 Goodfellow Road with a creek that wove by our house and a cobblestone fence. It just so happened to be Robert Frost's house. It may as well have been the place where he wrote "Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening." 

The darkest evening of the year the woods were filling up with snow with the only sound being the sweep of easy wind and downy flake. (Thanks for the borrowed words, Mr. Frost.) I creaked down the old stairs and found my way to the mud room door. I placed my hand on the knob, and it started to turn when my mom placed her hand on my shoulder. She guided me gently back to bed. 

I've wondered before if I would have kept walking into the dark and lovely woods had she not caught me. 

I've awoken frozen in deep woods many times over the past two years. Ask me how many times I've been in a waiting room or on a hospital bed. Ask me how many times I've gotten straight into bed when I came home, not to sleep but to lose myself in mindless television. Ask me how many times I've counted down the months and days until the end. Ask me how many times I've cried on my way to school. 

Just when I've gotten comfortable and okay with where I am, once again I find myself between the woods and frozen lake. I don't have control over my body. My mind is not waking. I don't know exactly how I got there until I'm shaken awake. Am I ever awake? Or will I look back on this to find that I was more awake in Holly Springs than ever before or since? What if this is just the second coming of age, another realization that Christmas and your birthday feel just like every other day? No, this is unnatural. It's not the real me. Even worse, what if this is what I'll be like for the rest of my life? What if I get stuck here in this waking sleep?  

I have faith that I will find my way back. At times I feel a hand on my shoulder guiding me back to my senses."The woods are lovely, dark and deep. But I have promises to keep, and miles to go before I sleep, and miles to go before I sleep."

Picking Favorites

I really like a lot of my students this year, and so it's hard to pick a favorite. Part of it is not wanting to single out a favorite. Is it the girl who can hardly sit through her Do Now because she's so anxious to show me the latest simile she's found in her  book? Or the boy who always says with a smile, "Good afternoon, Mrs. Gray" every afternoon when he leaves my room? Or the pudgy, elfish blonde boy the girls call "Lil' D" and who told me, "I really like this tutoring stuff, Mrs. Gray"? There are some great kids in the sixth grade. 

I had to go with a gut feeling, though. And there's no doubt there. When I see her in the hallway, I can't help but smile. When Mr. Gioia and I talk about her, I adopt a gentle tone. Marie. Cue John Lennon's "Beautiful Boy" but sing "Beautiful Marie." Marie's a SPED student who really haunted me at the beginning of the year. She shuffled done the hallway and would come in with her head down, eyes on the floor, and she would barely make eye contact with anyone. Forget about getting a peep from her. I described her as having the look of a wounded animal. When you asked her a question, she would just look up at you with a sideways glance and then avert her eyes back at her page. 

I remember the first day she raised her hand to answer a question in class; I delightedly called on her. I was worried that she would get the answer wrong and then would never raise her hand again, but she got it right! Then she kept on raising her hand throughout class. When the buses left, I told Mr. Gioia about Marie's triumphant debut in class, and he said the same thing had happened in his class! "Wow, Marie had a great day!" we exclaimed. Marie kept on having great days, and now every day is a great day for Marie. She gives a shy smile whenever I greet her at the door, and the wounded look in her eyes has become a sparkle of wonder. I love giving her praise because for Marie it seems that her lightbulb moment comes the instant you tell her she has gotten the question right, that she has done an excellent job, that she understands. She tells you the answer timidly but steadily, and I am so proud of her progress. She does as well as most of the regular ed students and better than many.

I know all this sounds really cheesy, but this girl fills me with genuine joy.  Sweet Marie. 

Poem

monday comes too soon

sunrise in the rear mirror

wake me up in may

Pets mark the spot

 We came to Holly Springs with one dog. Add a cat, lose the cat. Add a dog. Add a cat. Now they number three. Follow me now through a year in the life of my pets.

September 2010: More Mississippi than we could have ever imagined

November 2010: Dog foliage

December 2010: The lurker

December 2010: Two wise pets

January 2011: Eppie the Snowspectre

January 2011: "What an inferior oaf."

February 2011: Tracks

March 2011: Sir Fenian Dondero, Lord of Earth and Sky

March 2011: New dog on the scene

April 2011: "One last look before I go."

April 2011: Squinty-eyed passengers

September 2011: Double stuffed Oreo

September 2011: It's clear who's the dominant one in this house.

September 2011: This reminds me of birds in flight. 

September 2011: Dog, y'all.

Teaching, Take Two

The only thing that was the same about the teacher who showed up for her second year was the dress. A slick black and white geometric pattern, a stripe of color in a wide belt circling the waist. Last year I chose a bright pop of green; this year the belt was a seasoned, more diluted red. Professional, put-together, fresh, just enough of a statement to say to those kids, “Hey, I got it going on. I know how it is. You better listen carefully.” It will forever be my first day of school dress, stamped in my mind as much as the photo of myself on the first day of kindergarten. 

The woman who stepped into the dress this year, though, could not have felt more different than the one last year. A year ago my stomach was in knots the whole eve of the start of school. I groped into bed at midnight because of a horribly timed lack of toner that drove me to Oxford for a replacement cartridge. I had a few toss-turn hours of "sleep." At 4 a.m. I gave up on rest because of the wringing in my gut and my sticky clamminess. I got stomach sick. Lloyd made me force down breakfast. I put on the dress to make myself feel more polished and confident than I actually was. I don’t know who I was trying to convince more that I could play the part--myself or the kids. 

The day itself last year was a smashing success. Everything went as planned; kids were compliant and didn’t try me once in any kind of memorable way. The best part was walking into the cafeteria for morning duty and feeling a huge grin take over my face. I may have even chuckled. Kids. I would be teaching kids. Children. Small children.   Sixth graders seemed smaller than I had remembered. Then again, I had probably been imagining some oversized mutations of the towering, broad, shadowy figures of my 11th and 12th grade summer school class.  No. These were little humans who were for the most part under 100 pounds. They had their first-day-of-school haircuts and new shoes! Some were smiling. Others were unsure and shy, living inside themselves. I would be teaching these angels. “Yes, I am Mrs. Gray. Oh, you’re in my homeroom? Wonderful!” What am I doing? I’m supposed to be intimidating. Wipe that smile off your face. 

This year when I saw those little monsters from last year I still burned with rage as I prodded them onto their buses. “Mrs. Gray, you miss us?? These kids good as our class?? I wish I was in your class!” Tight smile. “Oh, teehee, I--you’re going to love seventh grade! Especially Ms. Buccilla!” 

Internal rage and putting on a face that was not my own pretty much sums up my first year. This year I was joyous on the first day! Hardly nervous. I got a full night of forgetful sleep. Oh, I can’t wait to see the lambs! Marc Farmer is right; they are lambs! And I am here to teach them! They will respect me and come to love me, and I will teach them how to write! My room is beautiful and organized; wow, is it really the first day? I feel like I already know these children, and they haven’t even entered the building yet. 

Whole Brain Teaching has entered the building. “Class, I have five beautiful rules in this room. Rule 1: Follow directions quickly. Rule 2: Raise your hand for permission to speak. Rule 3: Raise your hand for permission to leave your seat. Rule 4: Make smart choices. Rule 5: Keep your dear teacher happy!” I got them to chant my rules and to do silly gestures to go with them! Not only did I smile regularly and often on the first day, but I also made a fool of myself, and the kids did, too. I encouraged them to do so. They even (gasp) laughed! And so did I! Oh yeah, I’m living in teacher heaven. That’s right. You heard me. You may be thinking, “Wow, Mrs. Gray, I’d love to see your room in October! Or better yet, February!” Yes, I’m pretty anxious to see how it looks then, too. But don’t worry, it’s not a hunky-dory free-for-all. I dish out the consequences. I have the most beautiful, silent, attentive lunch line I’ve seen yet this year. And most of our walk happens outdoors across a parking lot with no line for guidance! No one can pass my line without complimenting it. I call parents. 

What’s so different? Well, now I don’t try to make my room a silent, sterile asylum of learning. I’ve recognized that sixth graders have a difficult time sitting still and a nigh impossible time keeping their mouths shut for 50 minutes. So I funnel their movement and talking into where I want them to use it: as part of my instruction. Sounds so obvious, right? We do a lot of call-and-response, chanting, and they get to move their limbs to mimic my purposeful gestures. 

Now when I give out consequences, it doesn’t feel like me versus the student. It feels like the class and I are together trying to get everyone on the same page. It’s not personal. We just have an agenda, and you’re interrupting it. As Marc Farmer says, “If you’re not in here for business, you have no business being here.” Get with the program. 

I feel like I have much better rapport with the kids than I did this time last year. Part of it is Whole Brain Teaching. Part of it is not being afraid to show them who I am, to blend my teacher self with my “real” self. I didn’t know how to do that last year because my teacher self was so far removed from who I am. I feel that the students really want to please me and listen to me more than they did last year. Yeah, yeah, it’s the honeymoon period, the put on our Sunday face period. But I don’t think it’s just that. I gotta feeling. 

Letter to the First Years

First Year Letter 1
May 27, 2011 Written in my classroom while my students took their final exam

Dear First Years,

You have a wild ride ahead of you. Before I started the Teacher Corps, I talked to teachers in the program who told me, "There's really no way for you to understand what this will be like until you experience it for yourself." Virginia Woolf's character Clarissa Dalloway says that "Love makes you solitary." I have found that teaching makes you solitary. It is an intense experience that you can describe to others all you want (and more than they want), but there is no way to infuse in them the feelings you have experienced in your classroom. It's a lonely journey. No matter how many supportive people you have in your life and at your school, you are the one who has to walk into that classroom alone every morning.

You spend your day talking more than you probably ever have in your life and repeating yourself over and over again. You are constantly surrounded by beings--oodles of kids, teachers, administrators--each one with a different kind of "talk."

You get used to a constant hum of noise and movement. Your eyes scan the room constantly like a predator's. Knees tapping, pencils balancing, hands rifling through bags, heads turning, papers falling, backpacks zipping, chip bags rustling. CAN I HAVE AN ERASER HE TAPPED ME ON THE BACK CAN YOU TELL HIM TO GET HIS FEET OFF MY DESK CAN I GO TO THE BATHROOM DO WE HAVE TO WRITE THE QUESTION WHAT TIME DO WE GET OUT OF HERE UGHHHH SOMEONE FARTED WHAT PAGE IS IT ON CAN I GO TO THE BATHROOM IT'S HOT IN HERE I DON'T HAVE ANY PAPER YOU FEELIN' IT TOMORROW'S MY BIRTHDAY HE JUST SAID THE B WORD ARE YOU AND MR. GIOIA COUSINS MY LEAD BROKE CAN I GO ASK MR. WILLIAMS A QUESTION WHAT'S THIS WHITE STUFF ON MY DESK CAN YOU TELL HIM TO STOP LOOKING AT ME KEYANA'S TALKING ARE YOU ON FACEBOOK CAN I GO TO THE BATHROOM IT'S COLD IN HERE THAT WASN'T ME SOMEONE WROTE IN YOUR BOOK CAN YOU SPRAY SOME FRESHENER DO YOU BELIEVE IN A BLACK JESUS CAN I STEP OUT CAN I THROW THIS AWAY I NEED SOME TISSUE THEY KEEP CALLING MY NAME CAN I EMPTY MY SHARPENER CAN YOU STAPLE THIS I'M ABOUT TO USE IT ON MYSELF HE MADE ME RIP MY PAPER HOW OLD ARE YOU JAMES HAS FOOD IT'S HOT IN HERE CAN I GO TO THE BATHROOM.

You become robotic. sit down. put that away. no you may not. warning. sit down. raise your hand. stop talking. that's off-topic. yes. face the front. get to work. copy assignment. no. sit down. no. no. put that on my desk. no. talk to me after class. read the directions. stop talking. go quickly. sit down. no. step outside. warning. raise your hand. you have after-school behavior training. no. sit down. i will be calling your house tonight. sit down. yes. do that after class. sit up. that's off-topic. wait ten minutes. open your book. no bathroom. put your feet on the floor. read the directions. no. seriously? you're late. sit down. you know better. who has my sharpener? turn around. it's just a roach; calm down. that's off-topic. sit down. read the directions. get back to work. pick up your head. no. yes. take your hood off. is that appropriate school language? take the yellow vest. no bathroom. Yet at the end of the day you feel like you haven't communicated anything. You're overtalked and undercommunicated.

You will yell even if you're not the type to yell. You will become irrationally angry at children. You will say mean, true, snarky things to kids at times just to have some sort of power and victory. You will be happy when certain kids don't come to school. You will become detached and not care if you find a note on your floor at the end of the day that says, "ms gray is a bitch. she can suck my dick."

I'm not sure if this is the letter you need to read, but it's the letter I needed to write.

First Year Letter 2
June 6, 2011

Dear First Years,

I'm not retracting my first letter, but my head is much quieter at this point, and I wanted to write you a letter from where I'm sitting now.
I look out at a room full of empty desks pushed together against the wall. It felt like this day would never come. Kids have left for the summer, my lights are off, the hall is quiet, and only Bob Dylan entreats me to listen.
I'm not sure if my students will come back next year remembering anything I taught them. I don't know if I made any difference in a child's life. I don't miss my students. I don't know if my school is a better place because I'm here, and I don't think my absence after my second year will be deeply felt in the grand scheme of things. I'm just a blip in the history of this school and my community. I'm just passing through.
The one most changed here is me. I'm not even sure if I like the changes. My kids' voices will not leave my head.
Forgive me. This letter is not going much better than the last... I'm still sorting through everything I experienced this year. I don't want to be cynical. I don't want to discourage you. You need your enthusiasm, hope, and freshness. You know it will be difficult and heartbreaking. You've heard it countless times in the past week. You know you will fail on many occasions. They've told you that, too. You'll receive more advice this summer than you will be able to process.
Just know that I am here for you and want to give you as much support as I can. Don't worry; the affirming voices of your students sneak in, too. One keeps flowing in and out of my thoughts as I write this. At the end of the year, a girl came up to me and smiled. "Mrs. Gray, you know you my teacher, right? You my teacher."
I don't know if I've changed any kid's life, but I do know that for a few, I've made at least one year of their life a little better.

A fine time for improvements

Most of the teacher skills I want to work on during summer school involve the implementation of procedures. I let many of my procedures slip over the school year, and I want them to become so routine for my students next year that they don't even have to think about them after the first few weeks. Really this is a list for improvements I want to make in my classroom next year but might as well start at summer school.

1. Class dismissal - I will not dismiss your row until EVERYONE is seated and silent. If you get up before I dismiss your row, you really will be the last one to leave.

2. Lunch line - I fantasize about having a silent, single-file lunch line with no gaps. Ahh…it will happen.

3. Consequence documentation - I want to have a better system for tracking why a student gets a consequence. So much happens during the day that by the time I sit down to call a parent, I often can't remember why that child got behavior training or copy assignments three days in a row.

4. Posture - No sideways seating in my room. Your knees will be under your desk. Why does it have to be this way? For several reasons but primarily because I like looking out at a room of students sitting the proper way in their desks. If I like it, that's how it will be in my room.

5. No you may not go to the bathroom. Ever. End of story.

6. I will accept no disrespect.

7. I won't let students get away with doing the minimum amount of work possible. Push them. Don't overlook laziness.

I basically want to nail them for everything. I want to allow zero exceptions to my rules. I have a year's worth of frustrations and failings behind me. I'm coming back to Holly High with a vengeance. The teacher entering Holly High this summer is very different than the one that taught 11th/12th grade English last summer.

Instructional skills to work on:

1. Leave time for a closure.

2. The kids should be doing much more work than I am during class. I tend to expend too much energy and to talk way too much.

All this is great in theory, but I know I'm going to be really exhausted by the time summer school rolls around. I'll leave my school and start summer school the next day. It's difficult to make myself care about summer school. The only thing that motivates me is wanting to set a good example for the first years.