Caterpillars to Butterflies

We have had lots of excitement this past nine weeks. Our science kit for this period is Life Cycle of Butterflies. (Our district provides kits, most from Carolina.)

I told them we would be getting caterpillars and one day this box arrived.

Anytime a box arrives, we always open it as a class. Well, that day they just knew it was the caterpillars. It was.

In the afternoon, the kids scooped "caterpillar food" into a small cup and I helped transfer a caterpillar into the cup, too. We covered it with some thin paper and a lid.

Every day the kids would come in and look at the caterpillars. They ate and ate and ate. Some even ate the paper at the top of the cup.

They grew bigger and bigger.

We came in one day and a few had changed. They were hanging from the paper (or lid) in chrysalises. The change had begun.

"When will they open? " We looked online for more information.

One afternoon, I carefully transferred the chrysalises to the butterfly house. (I thought I could accomplish this much easier than with the kids in the room.) When they arrived the next day, they could see the forming butterflies all taped along the walls. (I taped the paper, careful not to touch the chrysalis each time. For those who ate their paper and attached to the lids, I taped the lids to the top of the butterfly house.)

"Which one is mine?" they would ask. I didn't know for sure. We drew and wrote to document what we saw and what we thought was happening.

Each day kids would go check the butterfly house. So much excitement. Excitement that had to be contained so we could accomplish other things. But excitement that I didn't want to contain (at least too much).

These kids didn't see this type of thing much. They may have yards or parks but they don't see much nature in action.

One day we came in and a butterfly was sitting on the wall of his house. "He's just flapping his wings." We talked about the need to the butterfly to strengthen his wings.

That morning a couple more appeared. We just noticed them from time to time. Then, a crucial moment.

"One's coming out now!" a student near the butterfly house called. Everything stopped.

"Okay," I said. "Let's put away our books. Then let's watch." (I knew little else would be accomplished at that moment. Besides, I wanted them to see what was happening.")

After a few days, the butterflies were out. They would fly from time to time around the butterfly house. We made "butterfly food" (sugar water) and placed in on sponges in the house. We enjoyed observing our butterflies.

"Do butterflies live for nine months?" a boy asked. I didn't know exactly how long they lived. We looked online. TWO WEEKS! These butterflies had a life span of two weeks.

One day, we went to the school garden and released them. One girl tried to take one home, cupped and hidden in her hands. So much excitement. (Too much? I'm sure we disturbed classroom in the building.)

Throughout the experience, we drew pictures. We wrote words. We talked about life cycles. We read about butterflies and caterpillars. We made our own butterflies, too.

As I think back through the excitement and interest, I realize. Caterpillars weren't the only ones who transformed these weeks.

There's the Plan and There's Reality

One of the first things I learned as a new elementary teacher is that you make a lesson plan and everything is great until the students show up.

Now, now. I just mean that you can plan great lessons but when you mix a plan with real kids, things always change. The writer of that curriculum book or blog or activity from Teachers Pay Teachers does not know your kids. (And your kids don't know what the plan says they should do.)

Something I've gotten pretty good at is noticing...listening to the kids' words and behavior...and adjusting what I'm doing. Maybe we will move from place to place to practice writing words with a certain pattern. Or we'll have a drumroll before revealing the answer to an addition problem. Or we'll draw our answers instead of writing them.

Well, I've just experienced this same "plan vs reality" scenario on a grander scale.

Last week was Spring Break. As the break wound down and I contemplated coming back to school, I thought, "Hmm. Only nine weeks left." And I made a broad plan for the rest of the year. Nothing really written down but some broad strokes of what we would do from here on out. I'm more comfortable with the schedule and the curriculum expectations and the wild group of students I have. So I sketched a few changes and plans to carry us to the end of the year.

I thought, "Yeah, I've got this." (Friendly advice: Never think this.)

On Monday, when I opened up the attendance program, a new name was on my list. Hmm. A new student. But no new student appeared that day.

On Tuesday, a parent and child appeared at my door with one of the support staff. "Mr. Wiley, this is your new student."

"I saw your name on my list. I'm so glad to see you," I said. Mom smiled at me and said good-bye to the student. I took her hand and we walked into the room. No other students were there yet.

"Here's your desk," I said. "Now, let me show you where to put your backpack." We walked to the cubbies and she put her backpack in place.

She touched her head and said something to me that I didn't quite understand. She touched my hand and her head again. "Hair," she said. I touched her hair. "I can feel it," I said. "Curly," she said.

She said something else. I thought it was "water."

"Would you like some water?" I asked. She nodded.  I said, "Sure, go get some." Off she went to the water fountain in the room.

Hmm, I thought. Not the type of interaction I usually have with a second grader. I walked to my desk and glanced at the copy of the enrollment form I was given. At the bottom, a single word on the medical alert line. Autism.

This has changed whatever plan I had. My reality has altered. Things are now happening differently in my classroom.

I don't know what those changes are just yet. I don't know all her needs or the best ways to teach her. I don't have the information I need yet. We're trying to get information and work a plan with the EE teacher and other teachers and me.

I will say that it's been a challenging week for me - mostly because I don't know what to do or how to do it at this point. And how to help the other students understand and adjust.

But I know that I am here in this place for this moment to be this child's teacher. That's the reality and that's what we will do.

Missing Something?

Photo © thecrazysquirrel
Creative Commons License

Seventeen years ago I moved from Texas to Tennessee. I love living in Tennessee. One of my favorite things is having four distinct seasons. (I actually get to see trees change colors around October.) I love my Texas roots but I do love my Tennessee home.

However, there's one thing that Tennessee doesn't have that I truly miss. (Well, there are others but we'll go with this one for now.) Bluebonnets.

Each spring, I would see bluebonnets line the highways and country roads in Texas. We don't have those in Tennessee. We do have wildflowers that I enjoy seeing. But no bluebonnets.

I didn't really appreciate those bluebonnets until I didn't see them anymore. When I missed them, I realized how much I liked them.

And that has me thinking right now.

I wonder what I see and experience now that is valuable and I'm missing the value. After all, sometimes you don't realize how valuable something is until it isn't. Just like my bluebonnets.

What's going on in my classroom that I will miss next year?

What valuable things are happening that I don't notice?

What important milestones (students' or mine) are passing right before my eyes?

Will I look back on this year with fondness? regret?

Am I missing opportunities that will never pass again? Opportunities for impacting children's lives? Opportunities to enjoy the little things?

Do I get so caught up in the macro-view that I miss the micro-miracles?

I don't have answers to these questions. In fact, I won't have answers until next year. That's the trick with these "little things." You don't miss them until you miss them. (Profound, huh?)

This week has been Spring Break for me. I have missed seeing those second grade faces each day. I miss having odd things clutter my pockets. I miss hearing the latest WWE updates. I miss hearing them "make numbers." And read to me. And get excited about things that seem small (but aren't).

When I go back next week, I'm going to try to value each experience, large and small. In nine weeks (yikes!) these students will not be my class anymore.

I have a lot of valuing to do then. But now, I'm going to look at bluebonnet pictures on Flickr.

What's in My Pocket?

Every day I encounter various things that distract my students. Every day (or almost) I end up taking some of those things and putting them in the most convenient place at the moment - my pockets. 

And usually, those things stay in my pockets. At the end of the day, I empty my pockets and find the (often forgotten) treasures. Here is a week's worth things in my pockets. (I had nothing but the regular things in my pockets on Friday.)

Yes, occasionally my spiky balls must be picked up because they become a distraction instead of a helpful tool.

These rubber band bracelets often find their ways into my pockets...although usually returned to the owner at the end of the day.

A baseball. This was given to me during bus duty at the end of the day, so it stayed in my pocket for only a little while. And yes, I seem to have large pockets. Apparently a good thing.

The silly band was given to me as a gift. And I found the nickel on the floor. I don't take and keep money from students.

The flotsam and jetsam of second grade, ending up in my pockets. I'm acquiring quite a collection of items in a pile at home. Maybe I could create something with all my treasures (that haven't been returned) to commemorate my year. Hmm.

This Is For You

School started back this week. After extreme cold and maintenance issues, we finally went back two days late - on Thursday.

Kids were coming in and I was working to get them to remember and follow our morning routines. One boy said, "I have something for you, Mr. Wiley." He reached into his backpack and pulled out a teddy bear. "Here, this is for you," he said.

The bear looked like one that had been around for a little while, loved and used.

"Thank you," I said. "Is this for me to look at or to keep?"

"To keep," he said. I wasn't sure what to do - but my heart filled with gratitude and warmth.

"I'll put it here for now," I said and laid the bear on the side of my desk.

The day went on...as days do. At one point, I asked again if the bear was for me to keep. The boy said it was. I told him I would keep it at school, near my desk. But, for the present, I left the bear lying where I had place it originally.

Later in the day, the boy and I were standing near my desk. He touched the bear and said something about it. I asked again if I was to keep it and he said that I was. Then he said, "Sometimes I sleep with this bear." Just stated that fact plainly, no particular emotion in his voice.

I took a couple of deep breaths to think. "You tell me what I should do," I said to him. "I can keep the bear here at school. Or I could take a picture of the bear to look at and you could take him back home. Which would you like for me to do?"

He pondered for a minute and said, "Take a picture."

I dug my phone out of my pocket to snap a photo. I started to tell him where to lay the bear when he hugged it to himself in pose. "Hmm," I said. "Do you want me to take a picture of the bear by itself or with you."

He didn't even ponder. "With me."

I snapped the photo and told him to put the bear in his backpack. He smiled and did just that.

At another point in the day, I don't remember if it was before or after the bear photo, this same boy said, "Mr. Wiley, I missed you. The only reason I came back to school is to see you."

This boy is not one of my best students...in fact he struggles a lot. He's not one of my attention-seekers or non-stop talkers. He's not one of the ones that wants hugs or to tell me his latest adventure. I am surprised by his statement and his amazing gift to me.

So many times since I started this adventure...in fact even this two-day week...I sometimes wonder if much worthwhile is happening in my classroom. I seem to fight every day to get something into their heads (and maybe hearts). I see so many times when I could do better. I hear my tone or my words and know that I have areas that need growth or mastery.

But this evening, going through my photo roll, I see this photo. And I remember that, sometimes, this flawed mid-life new teacher can make an impact.

I guess I'll get back at it for another week.

Should I Be Less Connected?

I'm thinking of becoming a less connected educator. Blasphemy, I know.

I have come to love social media. I enjoy discovering what Matt Gomez is doing with his kindergartners and what challenging thoughts Teacher Tom will bring me. I try to keep up with all the thoughts (and good natured ribbing) flying through #kinderchat and wonder again how John Spencer seems to be writing what I am thinking about (but much more coherently).

I gather ideas from a multitude of blogs and Twitter links. I lurk on Pinterest from time to time. (I still haven't joined - I'm afraid of what that will do to me.) I am so grateful for the inspiration and challenge and thoughts.

And that's the problem.

I see all the great ways that teachers are engaging their students. All the wonderful activities that are tied to standards and creativity and the most up-to-date technology that I have just heard about. I drop info into my Evernote notebooks and create bookmarks to all kinds of things.

And I look at my class and my teaching. I see so much less.

I look back at this week. I think someone distilled the "full moon effect" and put it in the water of my students' neighborhoods. We were turned up a notch this week.

And I've been so tired. Working on lesson plans and working on stuff for my university class (that seems to be taking sooo much more time this semester). So my edge has been honed this week.

I see the super teachers achieving and I see me...well...not so much. And I ponder and I wonder and I begin to think that, maybe, I'm not the teacher I think I am.

Time disappears. My kids don't seem to progress as they should. My class cannot compare to what I see  as a connected, online educator.

I love being connected to other teachers. I love learning new things and thinking new thoughts. But the temptation is to compare and come up short. Someone, I think it was Jon Acuff*, said to not compare your regular self to someone's (online) best self. Many times bloggers post what works and how it works. Their posts may not show an overall picture of their classes. (At least I'm hoping they have crazy days, too.)

So I'm thinking I may need to back off of reading 1,005 blog posts every week and comparing those ideas to my class. It's only my second year in a mid-life career change. And, two weeks after school started, I was moved to a new school and new grade level.

My class is loud and rowdy. I'm working to keep us on track. I'm learning that a fast pace and some independent center work keeps things humming. And that losing control of my patience doesn't yield the best results.

So...I may not read every blog post and tweet. I may not comment or post as much as I may have in the past. I may love your idea and save it but not think about it again until year 3 or 4 or 5. (I'd like to think I'm in for the long haul.) If I'm not online, don't worry. I'm probably taking a nap.

[[*Jon, if you read this and it is your quote, please let me know and I'll modify this post for proper attribution. And, if you're not Jon and this is your quote, let me know and I'll change it, too.]]

It's Been Nine Weeks

My classroom - drawn by one of my kids

It is my fall break. I've been in school nine weeks. And what a time it's been. I thought it was time to think a little about this past crazy time of moving schools and working with some new kids.

When I look back, I see all the missed opportunities and the different choices I could have made. I see the noisy disrupted classroom and the times I just had to work to muster the energy to do something about it. I see a teacher that could be so much better.

So, instead of posting lots of self-reflective musings (you get those all the time here), I thought I would post a few things that have been said to me in these past nine weeks. No, not the always humorous comments of my second graders. Just a few other observations that people have said to me.

1. In my post-observation meeting with my principal, he made this comment: "I can tell that you love the children. You like the children. That goes a long way. More important than some of these other things that can be fixed." I'm glad he can see this. Or maybe I glad that it comes through when sometimes I feel so frustrated. I do like each of the students in my class. Occasionally each of them is also not so lovable, but I do love each of them and their wonderful personalities.

2. The instructional coach at my school told me this: "I see that you care about the students. And you don't just care about your class. You care about them as individuals." I thought this was an interesting observation. I had to mull it over and reflect on it. Then I realized what she was saying. I am concerned about each student and think about what his strengths and challenges are. I want to find ways to reach each one, not with a magical lesson plan that makes everyone swoon. But with small things that speak to the individual child...or to specific groups. I want to connect with each one personally, to help each one fall in love with learning because it means something to him. (Is that too much to shoot for??)

3. One of my boys...one that can be challenging at times...asked me the other day: "How long will you be here?" I didn't know what he meant. As we talked further, he said: "I mean, how many years will you be at this school?" I told him I didn't know. "I hope it is a long time," he said. Then the moment was over. I think he was telling me that I've been doing something right. (Or at least that's how I'm taking it.) If he wants me to be around for a while, surely that's a good sign.

4. Finally, I was briefly talking with a friend. Just exchanging a few words as we met and were quickly going to part. He asked about school and I said it was good. He looked straight at me and said, "You are where God wants you to be." And I know I am. Sure, there are things that need to be improved. There are things I need to do to help my students grow and progress. But I'm where I should be at this moment in time. I don't know if it will be for a long time or not. But it is for this time.

I don't want to spend all that time wishing I'd done things differently. I'm putting down a marker here. Things have been going well. Things will be better. I have been doing a good job. I can be better. I am making a difference. And I will work to make a bigger one.

Not a bad nine weeks after all.

Remembrance and New Commitment

This week has been a rough one. A couple of days this week were very frustrating and not very productive.

We've been through quite a few changes. My students had to move from their former classes into mine and get into new routines with me. (And I had to do the same for them.) Then our grade level changed how we're doing reading/language arts classes - some students move to a different class for the morning to better meet needs. We've introduced centers and some other new routines.

And this week we seemed to just have come apart.

When the class comes apart, I know it's me (my reactions or my lack of clear expectations and supports). But I still get really frustrated with their behaviors and the "out of control" feeling. In fact, this week I pretty much felt like a failure.

Then I remembered what happened this time last year. My friends lost their son. (See my post about Sam.)

It reminds me of why I wanted to make this move in the first place. It renews my commitment to being a better teacher.

We have a break coming up in a week. I'm spending that time thinking about what changes I can make in our classroom.

I've been called to be a teacher. I may fail but I'll keep trying.

Reputation

I'm getting settled in my new school. When I came to the school, I was concerned about meeting the other teachers and making a good impression. I'm still a new teacher and want others to see me as competent and effective.

I think I've fit in okay in the new school. I feel comfortable with my fellow teachers and they've really helped me get into the flow of things.

The other day my instructional coach and another teacher were helping me rearrange my classroom. (Long story) Another teacher stopped at the door to chat with them for a minute. The coach, who had been observing in my classroom that morning, commented that we were making more space. "He has them dancing," she said. The other teacher commented, "I've heard that."

Those words echoed across the space and into my head. Oh, great. My reputation in my new school is DANCING. I wasn't sure how I felt about that. Wait, I was. I was a little worried. I'm the "dancing teacher"? Hmm. Then I had to reflect on it as I drove home that afternoon. (You know me; I gotta reflect.)

I decided that being the "dancing teacher" is okay. It's for the kids. We energize our brains after working hard. We do it for only a few minutes. And not every day. And if we did, so what?

I definitely do some things in different ways. Coming from a preschool/early childhood background, I certainly look for ways to keep students engaged and moving. So "dancing teacher" sums up some of my philosophy.

Keep dancing! We will.

Wow, What a Week

My old classroom, packing up

 This has been quite a week. Packing up all my stuff at one school. Unpacking my stuff at another school and setting up a classroom. Meeting a group of second graders for the first time. Helping kids from two previous classrooms merge into one new classroom. Figuring out the schedule - where we need to be when - and sometimes just finding my way around. And the week has been full...and good.

For #kinderblog13 this summer, the prompts have been one word. I participated in some of the suggestions. But when "fear" was the prompt, I opted out. I had already alluded to my fear in the post about change. I mulled that my new principal may not ask me to stay next year. Well, that fear was realized quickly when I was displaced, not next year but this year...now.

My new classroom before set-up

As I settle into my new school and my new role as a second grade teacher, I'm beginning to see some possible reasons that I have moved. First, in my new school there are about 60 second graders. They were in two classes and now they are in three classes. My move should help the kids and teachers have a more productive learning year, i.e., smaller class size could allow more attention to individual learning. How could I balk at helping with that?

But I've also seen some personal reasons. I already see that I will need to grow and learn as a teacher in developing lesson plans. The team at my other school was wonderful; they were helpful and we worked together at planning. (Well, I took more than I gave.) My new team is wonderful. We talked about the plans for next week. But I'm going to need to do more work reviewing expectations and meeting the requirements...on my own. That's a great thing (even if more work). And, since it's a completely new grade level, I'm working harder to know what to teach and how to teach it.

Just a short time but I'm already seeing why this change may have happened. What I feared happened (and much quicker than I even feared) and it's okay.

Plot Twist

Sometimes the road is
twisted and tangled.

Do you like to read? I read a lot...and I love mysteries. I really enjoy when there's an unexpected (but logical) surprise to the storyline. Those plot twists make the story interesting and ultimately better than it would have been otherwise.

That's nice for books. But I'm not sure that I enjoy it as much in real life. And that's what happened to me this week. A plot twist in my teaching adventure.

Enrollment at our school is less than projected. So we need fewer teachers. So two teachers must be "displaced." So I'm at the bottom of the pecking order. Therefore, I'm one of the displaced ones. And displaced means that I'll move to another school.

I will be going to another school...to teach second grade. Yes, you read that right, I'm going up a grade level. Immediately.

I'll pack up my room on Monday...unpack at the new school on Tuesday...start teaching Wednesday. Yikes! My new first grade friends will move to a new room on Monday to be with a new (wonderful and sweet) teacher.

This wasn't in my master plan. Heck, this wasn't in the short-range plan.

I'm intrigued and nervous and terrified and just plain sad about the entire thing. But I know it will be an interesting part of my adventure. Plot twists are exciting and can give lots of insight in the overall storyline.

I wouldn't have chosen this particular twist at this point. If I were in charge of it all (and, let's face it, I'm not!), I would have chosen to move to kindergarten. But, maybe I need some broader experiences for whatever is coming down the road. Maybe I just need to practice making new friends. Maybe even more exciting dreams await in a new place. Whatever it is, I trust in Him for the outcome.

I'll keep writing about my adventures here. This next year may be lots of ups and downs as I figure out the second grade landscape. I'll apologize now for any whining (and try to keep it out of the blog).

(And, if you know any good second grade activities or resources, please feel free to share!)

Onward with the adventure!