| Voices from the Classroom |
[Sep. 14th, 2006|01:54 am] |
When Gary was kind enough to kick me in the tush about getting a LJ of my own, it was simply so that I could stop posting anonymous responses to his journal (what? stalking? pshaw.) However, I quickly moved into panic mode when suddenly faced with the prospect of having to fill all that blank cyber-space. I was then reminded that I've many, many time spoken of needing to collect all of the "classroom" stories, and I've decided that this is as good a place as any. Given my proven track record of poor-interfacing skills with computers (no, I don't play well with others, obviously), being able to put these things somewhere else, away from my jinxed fingertips, qualifies as a Very Good Thing.
So, allow this to be my introduction to the Voices.
A post from VJ in alt.callahans reminded me of the importance to laughing, many times, every day. Fortunately, I'm pretty good at either laughing at myself or getting my students to laugh at themselves, or both. We're a pretty relaxed crew, Ms. Alex and her band of merry fourth graders, and back when it was Ms. Alex and her band of merry kindergartners (surely there's a better pirate name for us), I spent even more time just being goofy and encouraging my kiddlets to be goofy. I've never subscribed to the "don't smile for the first six weeks" theory of classroom management.
But even the most light-hearted of us have bad days.
Which reminds me of a Story.
Last year I had a very adorable, very sad-case little boy in my
kindergarten class -- we'll call him Mike.
Mike's mom was a long-time alcoholic and addict and poor Mike (and his
older sister) had spent the majority of their young lives just a few
steps above feral. Shortly after school started, he was placed into
foster care. Unfortunately, the home in which they were originally
placed was little more than a bed, a roof, and dinner (breakfast and
lunch were provided at school). There was *no* love or support or
assistance or, we discovered later, actual conversation. As one might
imagine, neither Mike nor his sister blossomed there.
But Mike was (and still is) unfailingly All Boy. Silly, active, silly,
adorable, and very, very loving. As much as he contributed to my
overall end-of-the-day exhaustion, seeing him feel safe and happy in
the classroom was always a highlight of my day.
Well, one day shortly before the winter holiday break, Mike and his
sister were staying after school (his sister attended an after school
math tutoring session held by one of our teachers, and Mike spent that
time hanging out with me until she was done and they could be picked
up). We had our staff Christmas Cookie Exchange after school that day,
and I had a big plate of leftover cookies. Mike and I decided to
deliver them to anyone still in the building.
Being the helper that he is, Mike offered to carry the tray. "Gee.
This is really heavy, Miss Alex."
"Yes, Mike, I'm sure it is. Would you like me to carry it instead?"
"No. I can do it."
(quiet, obviously thinking)
"You know what, Miss Alex?"
"Yes, Mike?"
"I could eat a few of these. That would make the tray lighter."
"Mike you've already had four of them. That's enough for this
afternoon, but you know there are some back in the room I'm sending
home with you."
"K."
A few minutes later...
"Miss Alex, this tray is pretty heavy still. Think maybe you could eat
a few of them?"
"Well, Mike, I'd love to, but I've already had quite a few, and if I
eat any more, I think my stomach will explode."
"Oh. We don't want that."
So, we delivered cookies and managed to rid ourselves of all of them.
Once the tray was empty, Mike had no more interest in carrying it, so I
held it while we walked back to the classroom together. I was
exhauted, my feet hurt, my head hurt, and honestly I didn't want to
still be at school (by this time, their ride was about 20 minutes late,
and it was well past time for me to be going home).
As we approached my room, Mike stopped, looked up, put both arms out
wide, and *fell* flat on his face. An absolutely perfect prat-fall --
I know of no comedian who could have done it better.
I stopped, look at him, and waited for him to get up. Nothing.
Still nothing.
Finally I started to giggle. Just giggle. Until it turned into a
chuckle. At which point it turned into an out-loud laugh. And more
laughing. I was too tired to stop.
THEN he stood up, dusted himself off, and said, "Okay now. You haven't
laughed all day today, so now it's better."
What can I say? He was absolutely right.
So, my advice to anyone who stumbles across this, find something that will -- without fail -- make you laugh. Or, if that's too threatening, something that will make you smile. A joke, a picture, a story. Anything. And then hold on to it. Keep it close and pull it out when you haven't laughed during the day.
Can't think of anything? I'll give you my two favorite jokes. Favorites because you can tell them to *anyone* from ages 4-444 in any company without worry of offending. And, frankly, they're sorta funny (old, and used, but funny).
First. Why is six afraid of seven?
Because seven eight nine.
(yeah, it works better verbally)
Second. What do you call a fly without wings?
A walk.
Now go tell that to a kid. It will make you smile.
And Jordan, know that you're being thought of. |
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