The Little Things...

...that make me happy that I am a teacher.

This Is What Happens When You Don't Follow Rules

Science. Roughly 3 weeks ago. We were working on creating conductor detectors, or "R2D2s".

My directions? "Try to create a system that can detect an object that will complete a circuit. Do not leave your seats. We will not be testing any objects yet."

I turn around to talk to a group of little scientists. As I'm turning I see motion out of the corner of my eye, but I dismiss it, assuming a student is throwing garbage away, etc.

Buzzzzzap. POP! Lights go out.

I turn around to see one of my students, a half completed R2D2 dangling from his neck, one wire in each of his hands and a look of complete horror on his face, frozen mid-hunch both arms extended toward the light switch.

I advance on the Guilty Scientist and in the calmest voice I can muster, command him to sit down exactly where he stands, which happens to be right by our classroom door. I take away the R2D2, note that the wires he was holding are burnt down to the insulation, and condemn the other two students in his science group to the same fate. I call the office to have the students picked up and forget to mention who I am or what classroom I'm in. Just that "A student has blown out the lights by sticking two wires into the light switch."

The rest of my class is being generally loud and unnecessarily obnoxious about the lack of light. Trying my hardest not to cry in frustration, I open both curtains, grateful to have my back turned to my students so I can collect myself.

All this happens in about 45 seconds. The room really is quite dark. I turn on my Read Aloud lamp and get the other 25 students back on track.

The 3 boys, including most-definitely-Guilty-Scientist are lead out of the room.

15 minutes later my students depart for lunch.

I'm left in my room, frantically collecting lamps from other teachers.

The notion that I'm a stupid new teacher and that all the other teachers will look down upon me keeps running through my head. The lights being blown out, its all my fault. I made a stupid mistake and ruined school property. How long will it take to get the lights back on? How will my kids see without lights? Can I even continue teaching? What will I do if I can't?

I sink into an inky black mood and fear that it won't go away by the time my students come back from lunch/recess. Read Aloud is next and it's my favorite. How can I read expressively if I'm so utterly pissed and downtrodden?

The lights get turned back on 3 minutes before recess is over. Apparently, "They make the breaker automatically switch off so it won't kill students such as Guilty Scientist".

My students return. I manage to pull myself out of the gutter and continue on with my day.

The moral of this story? Don't trust students with wires without very explicit instructions. And don't let one little mistake ruin your day. There are 24 kids depending on me. And that's what I told myself to end my little pity party.

The First Rule of Silent Ball: You Do NOT Talk About Silent Ball

My boys and I played Silent Ball today after recess whilst the girls were practicing their cheer for the Veteran's Day assembly.

Silent ball is simple. Throw a soft ball around the room. Success means catching it. Drop it and you're out. No moving. No talking. There is only one judge (me). Winner makes all the restrictions.

The winner? An overambitious gentleman with a heart of gold and a shaky sense of direction.

His restrictions? "Say their name before you throw it to them, spin around, in 5 seconds".

These restrictions = very difficult. I usually use one of those at a time. 2 max. But I let it slide.

The Gentleman in possession, exuding confidence. He winds up, spins, says a name and pitches the ball full speed. At the white board. 

This throw was at least 10 feet away from any other student. Nowhere close. I cannot emphasize this enough. I immediately start laughing. Which gets everyone else to start laughing as well.

Gentleman sits down. The game resumes. The restrictions drop because they are ridiculous. A few minutes later, Gentleman is standing back up and I throw it to him. A few boys point out that he is already out.  He smiles sheepishly but remains standing, a silent denial. I say, "no way, really?" because I honestly can't remember. There are like 14 boys scattered throughout the room.

Then my Soccer Star reminds me, "Remember, he was out first. He threw the ball really bad."

The throw in question floods back to me in a millisecond of sweet, sweet realization. And then I laugh uproariously all over again.

Gentleman reddens, hides a smile with an over-exaggerated frown and sits back down.

Hardest I laughed all week.

The High Five

Every day as my students are departing for home, I receive a high five from each of them. This could be considered the highlight of my day, as I get to have a one-on-one personal connection with each of them. Say their name, tell them to have a good day, smile magnificently, compliment their excellent high five technique, etc. I love it.

Last Friday one of my students decided that he no longer wants to give me a high five. I was devastated. I followed him and tried to talk to him and he simply shut down. He has a habit of doing that. Not my fault necessarily.

And then on Monday one of my students used the following sentence as an example of a vocabulary word we were learning:
Student 1: Mrs. Moffatt is a grand teacher.
Mrs. Moffatt: Thank you. And that was a wonderful way to use the word grand.
High Five Hater: [under his breath] No she's not.
Sudden and intense look directed at High Five Hater. Amongst the din of children talking, a quiet cracking sound can be heard. The origin, Mrs. Moffatt's heart breaking.


The reason I no longer get a high five? The kid hates me.

This has never happened before. Children love me. I'm goofy and relatable. And then High Five Hater enters my life.

I tried everything. Talking to him. Reasoning. Trying to be extra super awesome to him. Bargaining. Asking him to go to the back of the line so that no one else has to see him not high five me (This was for my sake, as I didn't want any other students to get the impression that they could opt out of this ritual). Crying (not).

And then today, as we're lining up, I allow High Five Hater to stand in the middle of the line, knowing full well that he won't high five me and that everyone will see it. I sigh and follow my class out the door and down the stairs, where I plant myself to administer high-quality high fives.

He approaches, growing ever closer, care-free, unaware that his approach causes me severe disappointment. As he passes, I raise my hand half-heartedly, telling him good-bye and have a good day. And he high fives me.

Joy! 100% participation once again. Let's hope it lasts.

Group Hug!

I was out of the classroom for a half day on Thursday for a Data Meeting. These meetings generally depress me because I have to look at all the red that signifies where my students are behind.

When I got back I peeked my head in the window, and only one student spotted me. I could hear her saying that she saw Mrs. Moffatt. So, I peeked again. More students saw me this time and started to move towards the door. So I finally just walked in. And got a hug. And then another. And another. Until 3/4 of my students were surrounding me in a group hug. The first student in the pile was at the very bottom, but still holding on tightly. It was so cute. I haven't gotten a student group hug since I volunteered in Mrs. Classen's 1st grade classroom 3 years ago. It made me so happy.

And then I had the one student join the hug and lean on everyone so that 16+ people almost almost fell over. Of course. Hug complete.

I <3 my students.

An Epiphany Of Epic Proportions

Yesterday, during a UW Math Lab, someone explained something to me that totally blew my mind. Prior to this, the concept of breaking up both numbers of a multiplication problem by place value was something I never understood.

I am positive that I have incorrectly answered such a problem every time I've faced it. That's 12+ years of not knowing how to do this. Being terrible at story problems. Sucking at math and hating it because of my ineptitude.

Then it all started to click into place. So, I asked my partner, Becca,"but how do you explain this to KIDS?" Because at this point I believed down to my very soul that I was witnessing magic and alchemy unfold before my very eyes.

And then she showed me. (Please refer to attached picture for tangible evidence)

Imagine a cataclysmic explosion, silent to the universe, save me.

I wanted to spontaneously curse. I wanted to jump up and 'whoop'. I wanted to high five someone. But, all I could do, sitting amongst my distinguished colleagues, was sit there silently, my mouth agape.

It was as if I was crouching in a dim room, Golem-like, hoarding what little light I had claim to. And suddenly, Becca walks into the room and flips a dust-caked switch, illuminating everything I once pushed aside. It was always there, that switch. I just couldn't access it. I gave up, and was given up on, time and time again.

In the moments between my question and her explanation I stopped hating the unknown, the thing I never understood, the subject that eluded me throughout my life: math.

And as I was sitting there, unable to express my epiphany, analyzing the triumphs and failures of my week, I thought to myself "Teaching math is no longer frighteningimposingimpossible. It has a certain elegance, a beauty to it. I can unlock those secrets, illuminate those minds, chase away those insecurities shrouded in shadow and gloom. I can flip that switch for my students."

My light is dimming regarding my ability to teach literacy, however. Not lost, but shaken. A big deal for an avid reader and writer with a literacy endorsement and a life-long grudge against math.

My literacy epiphany is next. I can feel it.

Make Haste, But...

...a little less catastrophically.

I told one of my students that he couldn't leave for recess until he turned in a writing assignment. He literally tore his desk apart to find it and then left. I didn't notice this explosion until he was long gone.

One Of Many...

...reasons to be proud of my students.

I had a full day sub during Math Lab who gave out tons of OO tickets and put all of my students but 1 "in the blue". Which is amazing.

And the two times I saw them during the day I got at least a dozen hugs.

I <3 4th grade.

No Time = Blogging via Droid

My schedule is so tight that I am forced to blog whilst Nathan is driving to Staples.

Week 4. 3rd full week. So we like to say week 3. I wanted so badly to write my first week but I didn't have the time. Now most of the details have escaped me. It went well though, I remember that much. I bonded well with my kids. I was able to step into my teacher shoes with no problem. It's like I was made for this.

And all I kept thinking is that I'm so lucky. All that classroom prep and training and suddenly, bam, I have 25 kids in my room.

This is all for now. Car sickness? I haven't had that in years...

My First Bulletin Board

Call me Miss Mis-Measurement

Lucky or Qualified?

I'm a teacher now. And I can't believe it. I've been working in my classroom since last Thursday (the 11th). And I still can't believe it. After talking to a couple of my new colleagues, I realized that I may be the only first year teacher in the Renton school district. Apparently, Renton's typical "policy" (I use quotes because this may be less of a policy and more of a loose guideline) is to only hire teachers with two years of teaching experience. I obviously do not have two years of teaching experience. What I do have is 3 years of volunteer experience and a "belly full of fire" as my new principal just told me. My heart is in the right place. And I really care about my students.

I apparently really impressed those that interviewed me. As in, they talked about it afterwards "eight times". I did a closing speech at the end of my interview. It gave one of my colleagues chills. So, maybe that was enough. And here I am. More lucky than I originally imagined. And hopefully just as qualified. There will be a lot of eyes on me and a lot to prove. That a first year teacher can swim with the big fish and not drag anyone else down. And that's what I'm going to do...my best.

I have a lot of work to do and a lot of items to purchase. And sometimes, as I look at my big, empty classroom, I feel a little empty as well, in the sense that I don't have enough to fill it. Which I don't. Yet.

Bulletin boards really make a difference, though. They fill the space and make everything look much more festive. My first bulletin board was a disaster though. I mis-measured.

But, classroom arrangement and decor are only two of the many things I must do to have my classroom ready for the 31st.

I have training for the next week-and-a-half. Reading, Math, and PBIS. These will be wonderfully helpful.

Time to begin working on my first day of school plan. Thank you, Harry Wong, for being so wise and helpful.

The Job Hunt and It's Completion

In April I became depressed and desperate. My idea? Become a teacher! Stop feeling like a failure and try my hardest. So, I began the long and arduous process of applying to school districts.

Below is the breakdown of exactly what this process entailed. 

Number of school districts I applied for: 19 (62 if you count ESD113 as separate districts, which I should)

Number of single positions I applied for: 111

Number of pools I applied for: 7

Number of calls I received: 6

Number of interviews I participated in: 3

Number of jobs received: 1

That's right, I actually succeeded! I'm officially a 4th grade teacher at Lakeridge Elementary in the Renton School District. I'm technically teaching in Seattle, if you go by my address.

But, I did it! I fulfilled one of my dreams!

School starts August 31st...