Say Something Nice

"If you can't say something nice, don't say nothing all."  Whether you were a Disney child and heard that from Thumper, or just a child at all and heard a rendition of that from your parents, we've all heard this expression one way or another.   However true, it seems as though people seldom remember the catchy motto.  In my year and a half of teaching in Camden, New Jersey, I have found the ratio of good comments to bad comments to be proportional to the ratio of the 9 square mile city to its nearly 9,000 square mile state. 

A former South Jersey resident paid for this sign with the intent of facilitating a more positive discourse about Camden.

Yet I must say, the good comments seem to outweigh the bad comments when it comes to the conviction and action behind them.  Sure, you can quote crime statistics and murder rates all you want. You can blame said violence on bad parenting or poor education.  You can even make jokes about how the kids know how to use a weapon better than they can count. Yet, while your comments are grounded in finger-pointing blame and passive criticism, every single positive comment I have heard about Camden has a foundation of life-changing action that is driven by passion, love, and hope for the city.

At the beginning of December, I had a chance to have a candid conversation about Camden with some of its biggest supporters: three fifth graders who call the city invincible home.  Usually my conversations with the kids revolve around decimals and vocabulary words, and the regions of the United States, but field trips allow me to interact with more kids at a more casual level.  This particular trip was to a puppet show whose message seemed to mirror the message these kids conveyed to me that day.  And both messages, in their simplest terms, come to one easy-to-follow conclusion: Be nice.

Just like anyone who has ever stepped into Camden, or the discourse thereof, these girls have seen and heard it all: the put-downs, the accusations, and the assumptions.  One young lady, an aspiring dance teacher who voluntarily helps with the cooking at home, recalled a time when her well-off cousins came to visit from their enormous Pennsylvania home.   Her home, which is full of love but lacks space, was received by her cousins with comments about its small size and dirty appearance.  There was paradox in her eyes when she was relaying the memory, as you could simultaneously see both the love she had for her cousins and the sadness that their comments left behind.  

Another student attends church in a town outside of Camden and hears negative things about Camden on a regular basis.  People constantly say to her, "I know you have to live in Camden, but you should go to another school." What's worse, people often mockingly ask her, "You haven't been shot yet?"  The conviction in this young lady's response to such comments is overwhelmingly mature, confident, and inspiring.  "I am in a school where I learn a lot," she said with all her heart, "and I will be ready for college."

In an assignment where students were asked to write about Camden, the same young lady who received criticism from her own family was wise beyond her years in saying that Camden in and of itself is not bad, but that there are people in Camden, just like anywhere else, who make bad choices. 

The student who couldn't even escape the negativity at church went on to say how she understands what it takes to work hard to get what you want and where you want in life.  Innocently, she spoke of her desire to have a cell phone, and how she works hard in school and at home to earn it. 
 
Why should these kids need to justify their homes? Their education? Their lives? We've all felt that pang of insult when someone walks all over something or someone important to us, and these kids and their families deal with it every single day.  These girls, who were eager to talk about their younger siblings who are learning sign language and Spanish in their Camden day cares, just want people to see Camden like they see it.  Why should they have to feel like their treasure has to be everyone else's trash?

Now, these kids are smart. They do not look through Camden with an ignorant, all-is-well lens.  At the same time, they don't wish to leave Camden just because their families and peers dismiss it with the rest of society.  They just want what all of us want: to make their hometown a better place for everyone and to be the best they can be.   Quoting trash clean-up, tree-planting, and house-fixing as things Camden needs, it is very clear that these kids see their city as their own community of which they want to be part.  Say all you want about Camden, but it is their home, and the actions of so many wonderful people will continue to speak louder than your words.

I hope that the amazingly positive movement in Camden -- because you better believe there is one -- never stops and that the people who call it home continue to embrace their city.  And I hope that the next time you speak about Camden, you have something nice to say.

Happy Thanksgiving

I am thankful for numerous people and things, but today I can't help but be thankful for having a job that brings me joy and pain, successes and failures, all of which add up to learning experiences that I will hold with me forever.  To have a full time job at the ripe, young age of 23 really means, as I have come to see, that you have yet another influence shaping the way you will live your life forever.  I am happy to say that my job helps me to appreciate small steps toward improvement, small amounts of extremely important people, small moments where you see people at their best, and small, seemingly forsaken places.  

Yesterday I had the privilege of awarding one of my students with one of our grade's "most improved" awards for the first marking period.  The look of excitement on her face radiated throughout the whole cafeteria, and her mother, who was in tears with concern for her daughter's future at conferences, was beaming with joy.  This student works so hard, day in and day out, beating the odds that everyone else seemed to think were not in her favor.

After the assembly I went up to another student of mine, who started out the school year doing exactly the opposite of the aforementioned.  This student barely worked at all, day in and day out, and would make any and every excuse for not completing work, whether in class or at home.  After a tremendous struggle with making up work, she was left with the remnants of a marking period gone terribly wrong.  

Day one of marking period two arrived and I had my hopes, but I also had my hesitations.  I've seen many "clean slates" get lost in the mess time and time again, and I was worried that, intent aside, my student was just not ready to change.

Yesterday we completed day seven of marking period two.  I am happy to report that this student is not missing any work and, according to her mother, has stopped asking for help with her homework because she "gets it."   What's more, this student has adopted a slogan that I just happened to mention during a few tests.  She seems to have really taken it to heart, and it is making such a difference in her work ethic, which will make such a difference in her life. "I'm not letting the work beat me, Ms. Bonanno," she'll say.  "I'm beating the work."

As I approached my prodigal student, I couldn't help but wonder if she had been thinking the same thing during that awards assembly as I had.  "You know what I was thinking during that whole assembly?" I said with a smile.  "I was thinking that, if you keep up the work you are doing now, your name is going to be called at one of these things."  

A small, suppressed grin started to form on my student's face.  "You were thinking that, weren't you?!" I yelled.  With a slight nod of her head, I knew that I was talking to a brand new person. 

I can't seem to get this exchange of words off my mind. Here you have two young ladies from one small, seemingly forsaken place, who have both made small (well, maybe not so small) steps toward improvement. I might complain here and there about my ever so small class, but today I am thankful for my small amount of extremely important people, and the opportunity to witness these small moments where they are at their best.

Happy Thanksgiving.

Always Remember

On September 11th, 2001, I was in 7th grade. A little bit before lunch, our assistant principal made an announcement saying that she "was sure that we had heard of the explosions in New York by now" and that, for now, the day would carry on as scheduled.  Not having any clue what explosions she was talking about, my peers I and carried on as usual and eventually made our way to lunch and then class. Only when we arrived at class business wasn't as usual.  We walked into classrooms where our teachers had fear in their eyes and, for the first time of many times that would occur over the next few days, weeks, and even months, we watched news coverage that soared above our comprehension levels.  We had questions, but our teachers, who had given us answers to so many questions before, suddenly lacked the ability to meet our concern with eloquently stated guidance and reassurance.

Now, eleven years later, I am in the role of the teacher and have found myself for two years now trying to convey the significance of this date with the perfect balance of grief and thankfulness.  Grief, of course, for the tragedy in the thousands of lives lost.  Thankfulness for the men and women who sacrificed their safety, and often their lives, so that others could survive that day.  

Last year, most of my class was born either just before or just after September 11th.  When having a class discussion about what happened that day, one of my students began crying.  He hadn't known someone who was directly affected, nor was this the first time he had heard of September 11th.  He was simply feeling, so strongly, for all of those affected by the tragedy.

This year, with my small class, our conversation started with us viewing a video outlining the events of the day and paying tribute to the heroes that arose from the hardship.  Before diving into the heavy topic, I like to get a feel for how much my students already know about the day.  Today I was surprised to learn that one of my students had not ever heard of September 11th. Whether or not this was true, I'm not sure, but what can be sure is that perhaps this student hadn't been informed about the day in a way that conveyed the effect it has on Americans today.  In my mind, as important as it is for those of us who were around for that day to always remember, I believe it is just as important for us to do our job to ensure that even those who were not around learn about that day: what happened, what it meant for those directly affected, and what it means for Americans today. 

Today, all of the fifth graders at my school wrote letters to police and firemen to thank them for the service they do for our cities.  If the sincerity and excitement for the task that I saw in my students was at all similar to what the other teachers saw in theirs, then today we did our job to convey at least one small way to pay tribute to the memories of September 11th. 

Ten Things...

...that you just have to laugh at or else they'll make you miserable because they didn't make the first day of your second year of teaching go as you envisioned it.

1. After taking Nyquil and beginning to feel its drowsy effects the night before the first day of school you ask, "Should I have showered tonight?"

2. After waiting to shower until the morning you find that getting ready takes longer than you remembered it taking before, setting you way behind your ideal schedule.

3. Taking quite the leap from bagels with cream cheese spread just the way you like it as one's morning sustenance to a bowl of plain, instant oatmeal.

4. Doing the potty dance all morning because you forgot to use the restroom before you went to greet the kids.

5. Playing Radio Disney softly in the classroom because you realize that it is really too quiet with only two kids in the room.

6. Having to literally drag yourself out of your desk chair to go upstairs and eat with your colleagues because you are just that lazy.

7. Opening your lunch to find that the ravioli you were so looking forward to consisted of no more than six one-square-inch pieces, leaving you hungry for the rest of the day.

8. Mixing up the names of your two students at the end of the day.

9. Staying until after 6 p.m., all too closely mirroring many an afternoon of your first year.

10. Getting home to find that both Jeopardy and Wheel of Fortune are reruns to which you not only remember the questions and puzzles, but also the people and their personalities: what they're wearing, their names, what you like, what you dislike about them, etc.

All that being said, I am laughing at these things because, although my day did not go as I envisioned it, these things and the great things that happened throughout the day made it what it was.  And although I would  love to have a Nyquil-free night and am anxiously awaiting the growth of my class, both in size and knowledge, I am excited for what this year will bring.  I think that being able to say that in my half-asleep Nyquilness and after an 11-hour visit to work says a lot.  

Here's to another great year!

Bieber Fever

When Justin Bieber first hit the scene, I was initially impressed with his youthful talent and his momma's boy persona that seemed to only mirror his actual close relationship with his mother.  However, as time went on, I grew tired of the Bieber Fever, and eventually swore him off when the students I taught seemed to have all been "sick" to the point of delirium: carrying lunch boxes with Bieber's face, composing fake practice letters to the Biebs, and singing all of his songs word for word with a sort of admiration that I can really only compare to Gaston's girls in Beauty and the Beast.

There have been other musicians that I have seen elicit the same sort of behavior from the kids that have not been as... annoying.  One Direction, for instance, has reminded me why I loved NSync and the Backstreet Boys so much in my midlde school years.  I can't say that I've been writing them letters or carrying them on my lunch box, but I do know their popular songs and have, in the past, impressed some 5th graders on a field trip by singing along to one of their favorite One Direction tunes.  

But for some reason I just can't provide the same entertainment when it comes to Justin Bieber.  In fact, my singalongs are generally replaced with eye-rolling and head-shaking, much to the dismay of many of the kids.  

This year, however, I may be turning over a new leaf.  Part of being a teacher is having the ability to be authentic and able to relate to the kids, which is exactly why I authentically exuded my 98.6 degree feelings about J. Biebs and justified the "relating" part by implying that I knew who Justin Bieber was.

My new leaf has to do with nothing more than the simple fact that I now feel conflicted, and it's because of this song.  I guess what I'm trying to say is that my temperature on the Beiber Fever scale has gone up a few tenths of a degree, and I can no longer pull the head-shaking, eye-rolling card.  I can't say the 11-year-old girl in me has fallen for the Biebs himself, but I can't ignore how catchy this song is, and how likely it is that I'll be singing along with the kids if the opportunity  predicament arises. 

This is my "I'm back" post.

I don't want to be a Negative Nancy, nor a Positive Patty... So I think I'll just be a Factual Franny.  And then I'll let all the Analyzing Alejandros figure out how I'm feeling.

1. I haven't written a blog since June, at which point I decided that I'd continue writing throughout the summer in order to use that time as a "reflection period."

2. The majority of my summer was spent gallivanting around Europe.

3. While I thought of my previous students from time to time (whether while seeing things that I thought they'd like, or remembering how I forgot the paper with their addresses on it to send them postcards), I did not give much thought to school at all.

4. Today my summer ended and year number two began.

5. The kids come in 12 days.

Alright Smart Susans... since I don't have enough energy to eloquently convey how the previous facts are making me feel, it's up to you and the Intelligent Ivans to draw some conclusions!  I promise that I'll be an Emotional Ethel in my next post!

Until then, I'll be alternating between being a Sleeping Sharon and a Working Wendy.

It went well.

Now that the school year has been said and done, I've had some time to sit and mull over how I feel about my first year of teaching.  The overwhelming consensus of my brain's daily variety is that it went well, but that it was lacking in a few areas.

For instance, my hectic schedule provided the lack of fresh cuisine in my palette that still has yet to find its way back.

The schedule also provided the lack of visitations from and visits to old friends, something of which they have been more than understanding and that has improved with time.

Lacking in conversation pieces that do not relate to school does not phase me, but many around me seem to have had enough, especially when I am around other educators.

In the classroom, it is lacking confidence that comes to mind the most.  I know for sure that this area changed throughout the year, and I am excited to see what entering a school year with at least some confidence can do for a classroom.

Consistent extracurricular activities were also missing from my life this year, which is a first for me.  As the year went on, helping out with the after school program and watching Wheel of Fortune helped with this (trust me, I know how sad that sounds), but I'm looking forward to having some more structured me time next year!

My biggest feeling of lack this year, though, comes from none of these.  A year ago today I lost one of the people who would have been one of my biggest cheerleaders in the work I've done this past year.  I can't really put words to the feeling associated with missing my grandmother, but lacking such a role in my life has been truly difficult.  I often think of things that I just know she would love to hear, and while part of me believes she knows, I'm just a little too selfish and want to tell her myself.  I'll never forget rushing to the hospital from my training to say goodbye, finding her smiling and asking for assurance that I truly do like where my life was heading.  At the time I wearily told her that I loved it, knowing in the back of my mind that it was and would continue to be the hardest thing I'd ever done.  I kept hoping that it truly would be something that I loved so that I could stay true to  my word.

I'd be happy to tell my grandmom today that I did, in fact, love it... and that it went well.  I just wish I could have shared it with her.

The end is HERE!

Today is the last day of my first year of teaching! 

Bittersweet doesn't even begin to describe how I'm feeling, but within the next few hours I know that both emotions will be hitting me at full force.

Oh, and by the way... For a limited time:

Meet my class here!

One more thing: What will I write about? Oh, I'll write.  This summer is the time when all of this year's memorable stories will come back to me, and all of the thoughts about next year will be formed.  

Until then, time to get to work on time!

The end is near!

Only 3 half days left of school.

On the agenda: Playing in a student-staff softball game, watching a video that I filmed/edited/made for/of my class, and completing the tear-down of my classroom.

It's crazy stuffing this year into boxes.  I still can't fathom that a mere ten months ago I had no idea what I was getting myself into.  Now I not only have experienced my first year of teaching, but I am on my way out of it. 

There have been many successes and shortcomings along the way.... probably more of the latter, but one success story in particular has been on my mind for a few days now.

All of my students came to me this year as low-performing students.  Most of them struggled across the board, but those who tried and completed the tasks I put before them improved greatly.  One student whose presence in my class has been overwhelmingly enjoyable probably came to me with some of the most primer skills of all.  For most of his life, this student was moved from school to school because he was not getting the help that he needed... and this student truly needed individual attention and so much patience.  I have been blessed with the patience of a saint, or so I have been told, and I was also blessed with a small classroom that allowed me to get to know each student individually.  Combine those factors with my genuine love for this kid and his family - the strongest family support system I've seen in my time teaching - and you have created a place where he feels safe and eager to learn.  The student certainly has more growth to be done, but his success this year has been monumental.  I couldn't believe it myself until I saw the numbers that indicated that, after entering fifth grade with reading scores that match students who have received no schooling, he ended the year with nearly a fifth grade reading level, which places him in the average range for students his age.

I wish I could say that five years of growth was the average for my class, for my kids need so much more than that, but this success story for my student leaves me with much hope for next year.  I started this year knowing nothing.  Sure, I had common sense and trial and error, but I felt as though I spent a lot of time learning on the job, which is generally the nature of any new position.  Knowing that I could help facilitate growth even with such a struggle in the beginning makes me both excited and anxious about my new challenge: to take what I've learned and make next year a far more successful year for my kids. 

Thank God I'll have two months to rest up for that endeavor. 

Brian

Last night, I attended a high school graduation.  Not just any high school graduation, but the graduation of my (baby) brother Brian.  This was a momentous occasion for a lot of reasons: high school graduations are generally a big deal, he's the last of the (4) Bonannos to go through Octorara High School, he's had numerous accomplishments throughout his high school years, he's headed straight to college to pursue a degree in something that he loves... the list could go on. I couldn't be more proud.

The thing about Brian is that he is not only a spectacular kid in and of himself, but he also helped make me the person (and teacher) I am today.  See, Brian was one of the main reasons I wanted to go into education in the first place.  Let me explain.

For his whole life, Brian has often had to work twice as hard to get where he needed to be.  Needless to say, he got there.  And I would say he got there with flying colors.  This was certainly not without the help from several amazing educators and arts directors who made a difference in his life.  Seeing the growth Brian has made in his life made me all too eager to be that support, in one way or another, for any child who needs it.


I'd have to say, though, that Brian's influence on me started way before I was able to see such monumental growth.  On the day Brian was born, the day I became a big sister, I was changed forever.  For the first time in my life, I became a role model, a protector, an advocate, and an educator.  Although I probably didn't realize this at the mature age of 4, Brian's life has been one of the prime movers of my own.  

Anyone can be a big sibling, but not everyone chooses to live up to that role wholeheartedly.  I can't say that my decision was deliberate or even selfless, for that matter.  I can say, though, that at one point I subconsciously decided that Brian was my brother and that what hurts him hurts me, what makes him laugh makes me laugh, and what he succeeds in is a success for me.  


It is with this love that I entered into the teaching career.  I even find myself talking to my kids as I talked (and still talk) to Brian so many times.  I am a role model, a protector, an advocate, and an educator to these kids.  I am more than proud to say that I learned each and every one of these roles through the life of my amazing, not-so-little-anymore brother.

 

It's been a while, but...

...this is the first day I've gotten home from work before 5 in months.

To the average person, this probably seems silly. With 9 to 5 being the traditional work day, it's hard to see how someone who can technically leave work at 4 could find any room to complain about his or her schedule.

I'd like to take a few minutes to walk down memory lane: first-year teacher style.  Please keep in mind that my contract and official pay stubs cite 8 to 4 as my work day. I have broken my year into two parts: September to December and January to May.  Although my work days have not changed, the time surrounding my work days has changed drastically.

A (school) day in the life of Ms. Bonanno:

September - December

5:30 a.m. - Alarm goes off.  Time to get ready (and tweak lesson plans).

6:15 a.m. - Leave for school.

6:30 a.m. - Arrive at school.  Review lesson plans and make appropriate copies.
                    Vent to mentor/cry occasionally.
8:00 a.m. - Greet the children as they arrive. 
4:00 p.m. - Help dismiss the children after having them for about 7 hours (that 
                      includes Homeroom, Science, Reading, Writing, Math, Recess, Social
                     Studies, and the last period of the day where I inevitably have a 
                     few lingerers. It also includes the 50 minutes a day spent with another 
                    class).
6:30 p.m. - Leave school after over 2 hours of grading and getting ready for the 
                     next day.
6:50 p.m. - Arrive at home, eat dinner, continue grading and/or getting ready for 
                     the next day.
11:00 p.m. - Most likely give up on something and resign to get up early/in the 
                       middle of the night to finish.
3:00 a.m. - Alarm goes off. Time to try to finish.
4:30 p.m. - Eyelids refuse to stay open any longer. Sleep.
5:30 a.m. - Repeat.

January - May

5:30 a.m. - Alarm goes off.  Time to hit snooze repeatedly.
6:00 a.m. - (ish) Get up. Get ready.
6:30 a.m. - (ish) Leave for school. Eat bagel en route.  Drink tea. Be happy.
6:45 a.m. - (ish) Arrive at school. Grade stuff, make copies, get ready for the day.
8:00 a.m. - Greet the children as they arrive.
4:00 p.m. - Help dismiss the children after having them for about 7 hours (that 
                     includes Homeroom, Science, Reading, Writing, Math, Recess, Social
                     Studies, and the last period of the day where I still inevitably have a 
                     few lingerers. It still also includes the 50 minutes a day spent with 
                    another class).
6:00 p.m. - Leave school after 2 hours of after school program.
6:20 p.m. - Arrive at home, eat dinner, nap, plan ahead and/or grade.
7:30 p.m. - Wheel.
8:00 p.m. - Grade, plan ahead, read, watch a movie or TV, and/or relax.
9:30 p.m. - Bed.
5:30 a.m. - Repeat.


What these schedules do not include are time spent at my certification class, time spent at TFA professional development, time spent lesson planning on the weekends (12+ hours from September to January, 2+ hours now), and time spent at other school events.  


I wanted to write about this for several reasons.  First of all, judging by the drastic change I've seen in the way I spend my time (notice I did not necessarily say the amount of time I spend, but the way in which I spend it), I am assuming that it will continue to get better as time goes on.  Having these memories (although often difficult to reflect on) will help me appreciate the growth I've made as a teacher.


Secondly, I want to apologize for, but also attempt to justify, my inability to be the friend/relative I once was.  I wouldn't trade this past year for anything, but I would give anything to reconnect with the people I love and give them the time that they so willingly offered me.  For all of the times I left outings a little early, said "no" to hanging out, spoke about making plans but never followed through, and lost touch completely, I truly am sorry.  But please know that the time we lost was time gained by eight 11-year-olds who so desperately needed my time and attention.  Yes, it was excessive.  Yes, I probably could have made it by without so much time spent outside of the work hours.  Yes, I might have been a better teacher had I just given myself some "me time."  Yes, my efforts may have amounted to nothing at times.  But I can't chalk up this year to time poorly spent.  Even the nights of tears and the enormous amounts of stress that were poured into my first year of teaching helped to make it what it was.  

At the beginning of the school year, I talked with my students about how it doesn't matter where they are now, it matters where they go.  I started this year in a very difficult place, and I'm not saying it's been easy since, but I'm saying I'm still going.  I'm not sure if I'll ever  get to my destination, or if I even have one, but I do know that it  has taken, and will continue to take, time to get there.

I'm not saying I'm a hero, but...

I would like to preface this blog post by saying that it is being constructed during the commercial breaks of Wheel of Fortune, which has been my sanity for the duration of the school year.  At times, the only thing that I have to make me feel good about myself in a day is solving puzzles before the contestants.

Not today. Nope, I have far more to feel good about myself today than a silly Wheel (as I affectionately call it) puzzle.

Today I was a hero.  Not because we finished our NJASK (standardized test) review and my kids feel somewhat prepared, not because I had a heartwarming discussion or two with a kid, but because I saved my kids from... a moth.

Because we have NJASK testing all next week, all educational posters and reminders had to be taken off of the walls in my classroom by this afternoon.  God forbid a child needs a little reminder to "line up the dot" when adding decimals.  Anyway, I had my entire class (voluntarily) stay in for recess today to help me with the task.  The kids are off doing odds and ends of clean up when, all of a sudden, I hear a few concerned voices say, "Uhh, Ms. Bonanno... there's a bug."


A bug. Anyone who grew up with me knows that I have mixed feelings about bugs.  Throw a caterpillar or ant my way and I'll entertain it, but throw a spider my way and I'm out the door.  


I look over to where the students were pointing and see a moth about the size of a golf ball sitting on my desk.  Perhaps because they were startled, or because I didn't know what to expect, or maybe just because moths tend to fall somewhere in the middle of my 'bug-entertaining-or-ditching' spectrum, I began to grow very nervous.  At the time, one of my students was standing on a chair that was blocking the door in order to take down some old cause and effect posters.  I feel bad admitting that if he took any more time getting off the chair and out of the way I might have pushed him. (Kidding, but really. I was that nervous). 

Standing in the doorway, I summoned a student to assist us, but saw that the student was planning on killing the moth.  I personally don't feel too much attachment to bugs, but between the mess and the potential of the moth flying and 8 screaming children just didn't sit well with me.  I was almost out the door when I stopped and said to myself, "Karen Ms. Bonanno, you are the adult. You must be the responsible one."


I didn't know it at the time, but my kids will now forever look to me as their hero.


I can't remember another time when I planned and executed a heroic act so well.  I turned to the kids and (at this point I was saying the above mentioned things out loud) said to them, "Alright. Here is what is going to happen.  You are all going to line up in a single file line.  I am going to pick up the moth in my hands and walk it outside.  You will follow me in your single file line as if I am your mother and you are my ducklings.  You will not talk."


Sure enough, after asking them to not watch me several times (I knew if I missed and it flew they would all scream), I was able to work up enough nerves to scoop up the moth and carry out the plan.  As the moth released from my hands outside, there were a few little screams, but then an 11-year-0ld with hand sanitizer (unrequested) and a handful of smiles standing by.


A hero.  I was a hero today... and I solved a Wheel puzzle or two.

Spring Break

The words "spring break" have been in my vocabulary for quite some time now, but never had the implications that they hold now that I am a first year teacher.  It seems silly to be using my last few moments of spring break to write about it, but I can't seem to ignore the significance of this past week.

To give you an idea of how my week was spent, quality time was had with my closest friends and family first at home, and then for a few days in New Orleans.  I was able to relax for the first time in months and I even picked up a book to read for pleasure (if you haven't met Katniss and Peeta yet, I would get started).  You'd be surprised how many times I think to myself, "If my kids only knew how little I read, they would completely shut out my pleas for them to keep reading."

Regardless of how I spent my spring break, though, I cannot ignore the milestone it is for me: a first year teacher. I have survived.  I have made it to spring break. Two months stand between me and a year of teaching under my belt.  Myself and all of the other first-year teachers have weathered many storms: storms for which we at first lacked and then acquired the proper gear.  We have made little differences, but differences enough to keep us going.  Most importantly, we will return to our jobs tomorrow, because our rejuvenated spirits allow us to do so.  

To say I needed spring break would be an understatement.  This milestone had me thinking back to the very beginning of my "teaching career."  Between finding out about my acceptance into TFA and teaching at Camden's Promise, there was Institute.  Institute, which I described as "teacher boot camp," served as a snapshot into the planning, process, politics, and even the pressure of being a teacher.  As if the training wasn't hard enough, I lost my grandmother at the end of the first week.  I remember thinking that the stress was just too much, that I wasn't strong enough to grieve and learn so much at the same time, and that I wanted to quit, or at least defer.  I even made that decision a few times, but it only lasted temporarily.  With the help of those around me at the time, the knowledge of the fact that my grandmom would want me to see it through, and a little spark of the reason why I joined TFA in the first place still in me, I made it through Institute and now -- I've made it through almost a full year of teaching.

Spring break.  I We have made it past spring break of my first year of teaching. 

Field Trips

There are many perks to teaching a lower grade level... my favorite of which being the field trips.

This year the fifth graders have had a variety of trips.  In fact, we've had one each month and have gone everywhere from plays to colleges and museums and more!  Although each trip has been unique in its own way, there are certain things that, for myself as a first year teacher, make them all stand out.  I will try to compile this list of "certain things" here.

1. The teacher comradery.  One of my favorite parts of this year has been getting to know the teachers with whom I work.  I have learned so much from each and every one of them and have come to truly enjoy their friendship.  That being said, the fifteen minutes (give or take) for lunch that we are allotted daily doesn't seem to cut it to foster such friendships.  On top of the short amount of time, we are also generally stressing out about something. It's nice when we have a little more time together in a more relaxed setting to really have fun.  I can really only remember one or two trips where we were actually all sitting together, but from those trips came a lot of laughs and fun. 

2. The bus rides. Well, most of the time.  When the kids aren't screaming across the bus from one another and hanging into the aisles the bus rides aren't all that bad.  The reason I really appreciate the bus rides, though, is that they have provided teachable moments, both for my own kids and for some fifth graders that I don't often interact with.  Usually I'll have a few of my own plop themselves in the seat next to mine so that they can chat with me.  I remember making small talk in the beginning of the year with some of them, trying to learn more about their lives.  Then when our destinations were in Philly, I took pride in teaching them everything I knew about what we were passing as we were passing it.  I had the privilege of talking to them about some places in Old City, the murals on the buildings, China Town, Temple, and I've even been able to point out my street from a distance.  Is there a saying, "Once a tour guide, always a tour guide"? Because if not there should be.

3. The kids' excitement. Who doesn't love field trips? Never do you get to see kids be kids more than when they are discovering and learning during a hands-on, new experience.  Especially when surrounded by these kids, some of whom have already been given a more difficult hand of cards than most adults, it is amazing to see how what some may view as simple can bring someone so much joy and interest.  Yesterday, we took the fifth graders to the Philadelphia Zoo, which had a special zoo-wide exhibit for The Lorax. One of my students has been talking nonstop about The Lorax for the past month.  Needless to say, his enthusiasm was contagious.  

4. Okay, so #4 might not be a theme across multiple trips. It may just be that I got to take my kids to Temple. Yes, Temple University.  Although, I'm not sure what was better: the actual trip of the build up to it.  The build up included dressing up in college gear (first mine and then their own!), learning the Temple fight song, reading about some of the school's programs, and studying questions to ask college students.  Then the actual trip included a women's basketball game and visits from some of my nearest and dearest college friends, and even the executive vice president! Can you say "WIN"?!

5. Having a day off from teaching. Enough said.  I can go in at 7:15 instead of aiming for 6:30. If blogs used hash tags this one's would be #firstyearteacherproblems.

6. Letting your "you" side come out in your "teacher" side.  The day to day happenings of the typical school day don't generally allow for you to interact with your kids in a way that lets you get to know each other as people.  Sure, there are certain times here and there, but field trips allow for you to spend a day being yourself (in your teacher role, of course) and therefore let you get to know your kids even more.  Warning: You may pay a price for this, such as being on the receiving end of sarcasm, being told that you are like someone's mom, and/or having your arm suddenly linked with a 10-year-old's.  

I could probably go on and on about things I like about field trips (and many other aspects of this job, for that matter), but these were just a few things that stood out for now.  Needless to say, I'm looking forward to the last two trips of the year: another play (we've already seen Charlotte's Web after reading the book) and a trip to this cute little place known as Dorney Park.

10

The number "10" is significant for many reasons.  For today, however, it signifies the number of weeks left in this school year.

Yes, 10.

Count the full weeks from now until mid-June and subtract Spring Break and there you have it. 10.

To say I have mixed feelings about this number would be an understatement.  For starters, I can't even imagine what a wreck I will be when saying goodbye to my kids.  Call me a sap, but after spending 10 months with 10-year-olds you kind of grow accustomed to their company, therefore making the 10 weeks seem even more daunting.  Especially in the small classroom setting we have, you can almost liken us unto a family.  (Cue the visual of me, the mother duck, walking down the hallway with my 8 ducklings following.  Can you see it? Yea... I'm not even the one who came up with that one.)  

In all seriousness, these kids really have become my life and, in a way, I think I have also become a huge part of theirs.  I suppose the next 10 weeks will consist of a release of ties and, hopefully, a capturing of the essence of what I hope I have instilled in them: the desire, and willingness, to do whatever it takes to learn.  Meanwhile I can look back on the little triumphs along the way and hope that in some way, shape, or form that these small successes can at least amount to stepping stones that lead wherever each child wants to go.  I suppose that is every teacher's dream, but for some reason the 10-week mark has magnified this hope in me.

And even so, I can't help but think of how free I will feel in 10 weeks.  Free from grading.  Free from lesson plans.  Free from the day-to-day dealings.  Free to go to the beach. Free to spend time with the family and friends that I've put on the back burner for a year.  Free to sleep in (more like free to just sleep).  Free to go explore Europe for a whole month.  Free to spend my time however I want.   Free to just be.

Today a colleague of mine told me that one of her kids asked how much time was left in the school year, only to follow it with a solemn "I don't want the school year to end."  I'm sure this is due to a mixture of things. First, that the teacher is making a difference in her classroom to the point where her students do not want to leave.  Second, that the student may be lacking what you or I had to look forward to in the summer time: a safe, fun environment in which one can play and relax.  Lastly, that the student is experiencing the very human dilemma of whether the end of one thing and the start of another is good or bad.

Just as this dilemma will never truly be solved, neither will change ever go away.  The end of one thing and the start of another is a constant in life.  I will sit in the middle of this one-step-from-freedom and another-step-from-separation spectrum for the next 10 weeks.  I will watch my statements of  "I don't want the school year to end" and "I can't wait to be free" take each others' places over and over again.  I will observe and deal with behaviors that reflect both sides of the 10-weeks-left spectrum, and I will most likely reflect the spectrum with my own actions at times.  Then it will be time to gear up for next year.  

And if I'm feeling this way this time next year, perhaps it will mean that I am doing something right.

T for Temple U!

I'm on a Temple kick today after a day of volunteering at an admitted students event so I'll just update with this little gem of a story concerning one of my 8 pupils and my Alma Mater.

At an IEP meeting the other day the child study team, my supervisors, the parents of the student, and I were discussing the pupil's future aspirations.  One of the child study team members relayed this short conversation she had with my student that made me feel both proud and honored at the same time.  It went something like this:

CST Member: Do you want to go to college?

Student: [Nonchalantly] Yes. I'm going to Temple.

CST Member: Oh! Why Temple?

Student: [Looking at the CST member as if she was crazy for even asking the question; as if to say "Duh!"] It's where my teacher went.

Hey, whatever works!

Camden

I have to be honest.  I don't really know how to put this blog post or what I really want to say. 

All I know is that this week (like certain other times throughout this school year) has been a real reality check when it comes to my awareness of the environment in which I teach.

One of the first things that drew me to Teach For America, and one of its biggest foundational ideals, is the belief that every child, regardless of his or her surrounding circumstances, is capable of learning and deserves to have the type of education that will lead to higher levels of learning.  As if you don't believe this enough to simply apply, TFA does a great job at making sure that you believe in the potential of your efforts.  Sure, some bumps in the road may suggest otherwise, but deep down there are many teachers out there who truly believe that any and every child can succeed.

That being said, I have certainly shaped my educational philosophy around this notion.  This past September I was given a handful of students that needed to get from point A to point B.  Now, depending on who you talk to, those point As and point Bs could be vastly different.  For instance, one side of the spectrum may say that your kids don't necessarily have to get to point B, they just have to make progress toward it.  The other side might say that your kids need to be way beyond point B if they want any chance of succeeding in life.

So here I am stuck on this continuum, if you will, trying to make sense of all of this.  Meanwhile, my day to day routine has me encountering stories that most people only hear on the news.  Stories of tragic things beyond belief that your kids are dealing with directly.  Holding high expectations suddenly becomes as much of a necessity as it does an impossibility.  And yet, even still, so many teachers continue to work countless hours and try every last thing in order to try to help each and every child learn.  After all, nobody joins the teaching field hoping to let the ones that just can't seem to break free of their surroundings fall through the cracks.  

Sometimes I wonder if "I am a teacher" and "I am a teacher in Camden" mean the same thing.  All I know is I'm not going to let any reality of today effect the potential that tomorrow's reality holds.  A lot easier said than done, I know... But everyone (with the exception of Yoda, perhaps) seems to be a fan of trying.

The Weekends

More like the weekneverends.

I suppose it's my fault but I just can't seem to crack the code. Week after week I watch teachers crank out their lesson plans and happily place them in the dauntingly huge binders that sit in the office.  So what's wrong with me?

Trying to figure out a system for completing 20 lesson plans per week has been one of the biggest challenges of my year.  I find myself perpetually stuck in the middle of the spectrum that has "let's just get it over with and give the gist of the lesson" on one side and "I need to write out every single thing I'll say" on the other.  On top of that, I find myself constantly questioning most of the 5 W's and even the H (What I am teaching, When I am teaching it, Why I am teaching it, and How I am teaching it) even though I have maps and standards and other teachers to follow.  I suppose it's a confidence thing, and I'm hoping it goes away as time goes on.

That being said, I can't say that I entirely hate planning.  Sometimes coming up with new and exciting ways to teach my kids is fun for me, but I often feel like the fact that it is done in my free time and the excessive amount of time it takes overshadows the entertaining aspect.  I don't think it'll ever be all fun... but I do think there is an issue with referring to Sundays as my "Hell days." Until the day that Sunday sees no lesson plan templates, I'm afraid the title will stay.

Speaking of which...

Rainbows and Butterflies

I wish I could say that I had a reality check today that stamped the message "It's not always rainbows and butterflies" across my forehead.  However, the reality is that every day has had its fair share of ups and downs that has not left room for naivety (although my colleagues may tell you otherwise).  This whole year has been a learning experience, with each day contributing in some way, shape, or form.  Because there will always be tomorrow, I think I have (at least subconsciously) learned to accept what happens today as an indicator of what needs to be worked on tomorrow.

That being said, today I was reminded of one cause of teacher lows: students' misbehavior.  Now, I have to put a little disclaimer on this: generally, my kids' behavior on a bad day sounds a lot like what I hear some other teachers describe as good days.  But let me tell you. I really can't stand having my kids the last period of the day.  In fact, while discussing this with a friend this afternoon, she said something along the lines of, "Maybe we should just film you reacting like this to post to your blog."  The kids weren't awful, but the lack of focus and excess of inadvertent sidetrack attempts just got to me more than usual today (Yes, inadvertent.  I don't have any Nick Allens in my class.)  In all actuality, I probably can't blame my disdain for the last period of the day entirely on them.  By the end of the day, I am simply exhausted.  Social Studies begins around 2:30, which brings me to the 8-hour mark of being at school.  

Even still, I have decided that the last period of the day just should not exist! Getting the kids to read (or even listen to and focus on a lesson) is next to impossible.  Sometimes I'll look out into a sea of zoned out faces, acknowledge the zoning, and still have to practically jump up and down to break the zoning.  So, for today's "indicator of what needs to be worked on tomorrow" I propose a cancellation of 8th period until further notice.

Or perhaps "Operation Make Social Studies More Bearable" will commence. 

In a sense...

Being a teacher can provide more learnable moments than teachable moments.

Take keeping up with preteen pop culture, for instance. Imagine where adults would be if they didn't have kids' conversations to overhear.  Thank God I have my kids' conversations to keep me up to date with the latest on Justin Bieber, "twerking" (don't look it up), and any new Disney Channel music videos like this one. 

A few months ago, I felt so honored to come to know a slang word via my children.  It was the day I began a  new organizational system in my classroom where the students were required to keep a more organized binder.  One of my kids referred to another kid's binder as ippy.  I immediately questioned the term, from which I received the 10-year-old definition of "something that looks cool."  Not quite done feeding my curiosity, I later came to view the entry at Urban Dictionary per the suggestion of a friend and found this definition:

       1. ippy: 

          Slang from Camden, NJ which means to look fly or well-dressed.

          He had on a fresh fitted, white tee, Roc-A-Wear jeans, and air forces lookin'
          ippy as hell.

Not only had I learned a new slang word, but it was also a new slang word from CAMDEN! Needless to say, I drop the word ippy in class from time to time (of course, with the disclaimer that if I see it in a paper it will amount to a zero).

What is even better than finding out about pop culture and even local slang is seeing the world through the eyes of your students.  Innocence has always been something I have appreciated, both in myself growing up and in the world around me.  What always amazes me is the innocence a child can have.  No matter what they've seen, no matter where they live, no matter how old they want to seem or be, children have an innocence about them that is contagious.  

I'll never forget one September afternoon when I happened to be the only teacher, for whatever reason, who took the kids outside for recess.  I remember sitting at a picnic table watching all seven (at the time) of my kids playing a cooperative, friendly game of tag.  I remember tearing up thinking about how adorable and innocent it was.  I didn't know then, but later came to find that the year would be full of cooperative moments such as that moment at recess.  As the year went on, I witnessed the classroom "troublemaker" graciously accepting help from the classroom "help seeker."  I see my students jump up at any opportunity to help someone out.  I watch kids look past their current situations and directly into their futures.  I entertain kids simply by having a car and a first name that they can identify as mine.  I have kids who hang on to every word anybody says to them, because to them, YOU are the hero. YOU are the celebrity. YOU are the one who can bring the world to them, and them to the world.

And, in a sense, I think that a little bit of innocence is needed for each and every one of these things.  Couldn't we all use some of that?

The Back Story: An Age-Old Tale

Just over 6 months ago, I began teaching fifth grade in Camden, New Jersey through a national program known as Teach For America, whose mission is to provide excellent education in poverty-stricken areas of the country.  Knowing that this would be the adventure of a lifetime, I had every intention of documenting my every trial and triumph via some sort of journal.  My efforts started out decently and in a black spiral notebook that reminded me all too well of my college days.  However, as teaching goes, particularly in one's first year, trials begin to outweigh triumphs (at least in emotional density) and therefore my journal quickly became an outlet for my venting.  Then the time it took to write such quandaries made my writing become more stressful than helpful.  Needless to say, I stopped.

However, I have since realized why I had so much difficulty (and how much I still need to savor this year and beyond).  In my writing, I had lost track of my reason for deciding to write (and teach) in the first place: the kids.  With a more relaxed (please note the word "more") demeanor and a refocused spirit, I would once again like to give this writing thing a try.  Only this time, I will try to make my writing less me-focused and more them-focused. "Them" being the ones that I spend the most time with out of anyone.  "Them" being the ones who drive me crazy.  "Them" being the ones who make me laugh.  "Them" being the ones who make me cry.  "Them" being the ones I care about more than anything.  "Them" being the kids.  I hope that these little anecdotes about my kids bring as much joy to your life as they have mine. 

Now for the first of many:

I am 23 years old, which is a mystery to my kids.  I talk about college all the time (I have a classroom full of future Temple Owls) but they don't know that I just graduated this past May.  One of my favorite things I've come to know more this year has been the fact that kids have literally no perception of age whatsoever.  Here is a paraphrase of a conversation overheard this past Friday:

Student 1: Ms. Bonanno is 23. 

Student 2: No she's only 20!

Student 3: No, you guys. I know that she's in her 30s.

Me: Actually, guys, I'm 40.

Student 4: I knew it!

Other ages that I've had guessed or had kids convinced that I was: 19, 25, 30, 46, etc.  Will I disclose my age to them at the end of the school year?  We'll see.