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...