Some might think that the yellow leaves, scarves, and Halloween
decorations are what makes me realize that fall has arrived. But, that
is not the case. The presence of dogs in coats around my neighborhood
is what makes me really know that fall is here.
As someone who grew up with a dad who played a drum set much bigger than this one, I was amused. I am concerned that the paper/balsa wood model would loose some of the fun. But this is still funny to me.
[Warning: The following material may not be suitable for all audience due to it's cranky content.]
[Oh yeah, and it's also very teacher-y. Those of you who don't really like the kids should just skip this one.]
I have 12 students. There are 8 periods in each day. Two periods are for special classes (taught by another teacher) or lunch each day. Except for Tuesday; Tuesday has two special classes and lunch. I am in my classroom, with children, for 29 periods a week. In those 29 periods, I have 27 pull-outs (a time when someone comes into my classroom and takes a student out for a special service). Some of those do happen at the same time (i.e. Physical Therapy and ESL teachers take different students at the same time). But, sometimes they are taking 4 students out at once.
All of these numbers made me want to cry as I looked at my planbook. I feel like I am not given time to teach the students. If my class were the US Congress, we'd never reach a quorum. Even if I had my students in there seat, the time that we'd actually be learning would be grossly overshadowed by test prep I'm required to teach so my class can pass the 3rd and 4th grade tests.
I spent lots of time trying to think of all of the ways I can get my class excited for our upcoming visit to the NY Botanical Gardens to see Chihuly's sculpture installation. Tomorrow, we'll be looking at maps to use the information to learn about where we are going. We will also be looking at some pictures and maybe a little video.
I think he is the most amazing sculptor. He makes big things out of blown glass. He envisions these things, then a team of helpers blow, streatch, swing, and cut the hot hot 
glass into what he imagined. The sculptures look organic. They make the space they are placed in completely different. I love it. I want my student's to love it.
So my Smart Board will be bringing them the video and pictures. The gardens will allow us to experience it first hand. Then, if I can find the right squeeze bottles for paint and sheets of plastic to cover a huge section of floor, we'll be making our own art inspired by Chihuly when we come back.
After several days of alternating naptime with exhaustion, I finally broke through my sickness-imposed agoraphobia and made my way to a movie with my roommate/fellow Teaching Fellow. We went to see the new Robin Williams movie. I have loved Robin Williams since he was Mork. I had the suspenders...with the pointing finger. Tonight, I loved him when he was being himself. All of the other stuff I was a little /eh/ about everything.
But, that's not what I'm here to write about. My friend and I came up with a big plan for the upcoming movie season. We want to have see all of the movies nominated for a best picture award at the Oscars. Which means we will have to anticipate which move will be nominated. Which means we'll see lots of movies so we have a little wiggle room. Which also means we will be doing something other than going to school and/or teaching school. Woo hoo!
It appears that several hundred people took to the commuter rail station to dance the night away. A flash mob turned communting time into Dance Party UK (I was going to say USA but that would be incorrect). Think about what this must have looked like. One man described it by saying "Soul Train arriving platform one." Funny.
This morning, I woke up sometime in the 4 o'clock hour, happy to know that it was Saturday and I could sleep and sleep and sleep. Of course, it is not Saturday. It is actually only day two of my school week. I didn't realize this until my nice alarm blared it's buzzy/radio noise combo only my alarm clock can make [it used to just be radio and then i shocked it to a buzzer when I walked accross my room in Arizona and picked up a lot of static]. Thank goodness I remembered to set it last night.
Today is the third day of my weekend. Time off like this is a completely lovely part of teaching. At 6:19, I woke up from a dream about teaching one of my students how to generalize her understanding blends (when two letters work together and they keep their individual sounds such as "bl") and digraphs (when two letters work together and they make a new sound such as "ou"). Writing and reading are still mysteries for many of my students. Nothing comes automatically for them—it is all a struggle. The ability to generalize a rule is something the need to learn.
The way I just described off of the thoughts I had is a little misleading. I was not thinking about all of this in an abstract way. It was as if I was there, sitting next to her, making all of these crazy sounds. Teaching seems to work its way into my subconscious and it likes to come out while I sleep. The upside is now I know exactly what I want to teach her tomorrow. I just kind of wish these thoughts would come a little later in the morning of my day off.
Today, I had big plans for productivity. I was going to go to the gym, go to the library, do some type of major household maintenance, and, oh, rid myself of any less than ideal personality traits. All before noon. Sometimes I make lists like that--over ambitious and unrealistic.
Now, it's 6 minutes from noon. Since I woke up, I've reintroduced oatmeal to my life, made some very good coffee, talked to sisters, and that's about it. While mentally ambitious, my body is not willing. Why get up and run around crazy like when you can sit down and enjoy the day.
When I have a tough day, sometimes I need to think about the funny stuff that happened in an effort to counteract the hard:
*While struggling to open a window, asked if I needed some muscle (he was referring to himself). I told him I was fine.
*When one of my students asked if my former co-teacher was my sister. My former co-teacher is a 50-something year old African-American woman. I'm a 20-something white girl. When he asked her, she said yes.
*When a student had a serious conversation with me about why she was not going to hit someone. She said it was because God knows. I had tried to convince her it was a bad idea for quite some time. Then, she made sense of it in her own mind.
*When another student fell as we were coming out of the door, all of my other students told stories about when they fell and/or walked into something. The one who fell moved from tears to laughing in just a few moments. Even the student who is having such a hard time today stories to make her feel better.
Oh good. I feel better now. Better.
Today, I saw one of my old students. I was his teacher in kindergarten
and first grade. He is now a big second grader and has a new teacher.
For the two years he was in my class, I saw his language abilities
progress from almost all pantomime to using a sentence or two when he
had something to say.
As I was walking to my car, I ran into him on his block. I went over
because I thought he was not looking before he crossed the road. [He
assured me he wasn't, FYI]. As he and I talked about his new class, he
greeted several of his friends with a perfect boy wa'sup. He even
added a head nod. It was perfect. No hesitation. No thinking about it.
Just fluent speaking.
It was great. But, I didn't teach him that. It must be the new teachers.
This is about to be added to my list of time wasters. It's google fight. I fought blog vs. book. Blog won by more than 600,000,000.
P.S. This little bit of magic came into my life because I followed not one but two degrees of (link) separation. I'm turning over a new leaf.
Yesterday, I ended my long weekend of wedding. My DC friends , who had been so committed to maintaining their status as freedom friends, practically ran down the aisle and exchanged their vows in whispers. It was a very happy day.
The weekend was fun. We played HORSE--I made a very nice bounce-in shot that ended the game and let us eat the pesto pasta I'd been waiting for all night. We gave a whole lot of love to the dog (specifically those who do not have direct access to pets). We tied napkins, stickered up jams, set up some flowers. And, dance-kicked our way to happiness for more than a few hours at the wedding. Good. So good.
On the drive back, I ran into some trouble. Turns out, while moving my car for the game of HORSE, I ran over a curb and knocked my muffler pipe off of the manifold (which is very bad). I didn't realize I had caused this problem until the horrid noise of pipe scraping on street at 70 miles an hour at the Delaware/New Jersey border began. The nice man at the service stationed jimmied it up with a coat hanger. Then the Honda sounded like a muscle car for the remaining 150 miles.
After I dropped my friend off at Penn Station, I was less than 10 miles from home. After 6 hours in the car, I was ready to be done. But then, Polska pride got in my way. The Polish Day Parade was making its way down 5th Avenue. With a little shout of, "Perogi Power" once I made my way past the street, I pulled up to my apartment 7 hours after I left NOVA.
My computer was turned on again. My world is very close to returning to the world I have become quite attached. It's always good to be home.
