My "Lid" is Constantly Slipping Just a Little

This week has progressively gotten more difficult for me. The MSP is looming ever nearer and I don't feel like some of my kids are ready for Math. Especially Writing.

So, I've been beating myself up. Telling myself that I'm just not a good enough teacher. Telling myself that I'm letting kids fall through the cracks. Telling myself that it's too late to help them.

And as this tempest is raging inside me and I'm trying to appear calm on the surface, I realize its much more than the MSP.

I'm typically quite calm and patient. But my facade started cracking today.

And I realized why whilst sitting in my dark classroom attempting to pull myself together during lunch.

One year ago this week was the last week of my mom's life. One year ago today I took the day off to spend it sitting next to my mom's hospital bed wishing she could just wake up and talk to me, even for a second. One year ago tomorrow my mom was moved from the hospital to an assisted living home, because it was necessary for insurance purpose (Or unless she is actively dying, the Head Nurse told me indifferently). One year ago Saturday my mom quietly passed away in the early morning hours, all alone because I was at home sleeping.

And all of this, apparently, is affecting my ability to teach. Which is unfortunate because teaching is the one thing that has kept me sane. It is the one thing that makes me happy. It is the one thing I can do that makes the little knot of screams go still.

So, I sat my students down for a SCM (Spontaneous Class Meeting) and tried my hardest to explain all of this in a way that a fourth grader can understand.

I couldn't actually bring myself to say it so one of my students, whose sister was in my class last year, said it for me.

Then I apologized, my face reddening from the effort of holding it all in, and told them it wasn't their fault Ms. M seems a little stressed lately. "My lid is constantly slipping just a little, and it isn't because of you."

After more than one student empathized and shared about a loved one they have lost, I had to dismiss them back to their desks, as I couldn't keep it together any longer.

They very slowly stood up, as if afraid to startle me.

Six of my girls, tears in their eyes, converged on me with perfect synchronicity. And as my back was to a wall and I was sitting on the ground, they surrounded me in a perfect bubble. An umbrella, if you will. And like magic or alchemy my sadness and sorrow was lifted. Just for a second. But as they lifted away and moved to their desks the feeling fluttered away with them.

But, for a moment I remembered peace.

As I stood up trying to shake off the aftershocks of the moment I heard a quiet voice say, "None of the other boys cried except Guled." The student who said it stepped to the side and behind him stood my sweet Guled, giant eyes red and watery. Without a word he hugged me and we stood there quietly, the class in motion all around us. He told me that his dad died, too. He told me he was sorry. And quietly, ever so inaudibly, I whispered that I loved him.

Similes and Metaphors

Quote of the Day

"A good teacher is like a candle. It consumes itself to light the way for others."

-Unknown

Truest thing I've ever heard.

4.18.13

Dear Fourth Graders,

I’m writing to you now because I’m afraid if I don’t, I’ll forget everything I want to say and everything that I’m feeling.

I care about all of you more than I can express. You’ll never understand how much.

You have saved me. You have helped me continue to live. Without you, I wouldn’t want to get up in the morning.

Last year I lost my mom. April 28, 2012. It was the worst day of my life. My fourth graders last year knew that. They were there for me. And when I came back they had waited for me. For the rest of the year they helped me compartmentalize, that is another way to say cope, a way to pretend something isn’t true. A way to live your life as if everything is normal and nothing has changed. That’s what they helped me with. I was a horrible teacher. I had a short temper. I didn’t do anything right. But they were my first class and I’ll never forget them for that. They forgave me my shortcomings. And I’ll always keep the suitcase they gave me. I’ll carry that forever.

This year, though, is different. It isn’t about compartmentalizing, I realized. It’s about transcending reality. It’s about knowing it’s there, saying “that sucks”, and continuing on.

And you do that for me every day. I get out of bed in the morning just to see you. Everything I do is to help you succeed. I want to give you all the gifts I can think of. Thank you.

And I know I’ll lose you soon. It’s April 18^th. We only have a couple more months together. And I’m so scared. What will I do without you?

Last year I kept saying, “It’ll be okay. They’ll be in the same school.” But, it’s not okay. It’s not the same. I don't get to see them every day anymore. They aren’t mine. I sometimes see Christian. He is the only one who still hugs me. Sometimes Ilahn, Miske and Hodan. And Kierra will smile at me in the hall. But that’s it. Everything we had last year is gone.

And now I have you. But not for long. And I don’t want to say everything will be okay because I know it won’t.

This is the best class I’ve ever had. This is the best class that will ever be. I will never have students who are so sweet, and hard working, and kind, and caring, and empathetic, and in love with reading again. Oh, and smart. And always capable of surprising me. And impressing me. And never failing me. And doing their best all the time. And being such a good example. I will never have that again. Ever.

I will miss you so much. And I wish I don’t have to say goodbye in June. I would move up with you if I could. I would. And I’m so sorry that I can’t.

I won’t ever forget you. Please don’t be a stranger. Please come back. Keep writing RQCs. Tell me about the books you read. I’ll keep track of every book you read if you want me to.

Don’t forget me either. I put so much of my heart into this year that I hope you carry it with you forever.

At lease there is tomorrow.

Sincerely,

Ms. M

Math Workshop!

This has really worked for me for the last week or so. Students that move quickly can do so. I'm free to work with individuals and small groups. Every student knows what they are supposed to be doing so there is very little redirection.

For the final option I've been asking some of my students to come up with games as well.

I wonder if I could have done this at the beginning of the year or if it only works now because expectations are so deeply engrained.

Either way I'm going to continue doing this and next year try to move toward this more quickly. More chance for independent practice.

Farewell to Fablehaven

A party to say farewell to our read aloud.