sewing lessons

For the past several months, I have been taking sewing lessons from a lady at my church, Mrs. Mary Ann Reese. She is a retired Home Economics teacher, and although she is 85 years old, she is still in very good health and her mind is sharp. She often states that she is not old yet because she does not feel old and I have to admit that she doesn't act very old either. Overall, she is very pleasant to be around, but my favorite thing about her is her laugh; she has the type of contagious laugh that leaves me searching for more funny things to say just so I can hear her laugh again.
I have to admit that at first I only agreed to sewing lessons because I thought it would be a good way to build a relationship with her; I didn't expect to actually like it, but I do. So far I have made an apron, a tote bag, two skirts and a pair of capri pants. I spent about an hour and a half yesterday making a head scarf out of some scrap fabric. Next, I plan to make a shirt. I think I like it so much because it taps into both my perfectionist and my creative sides. I also like the idea of adding more clothes to my wardrobe without having to go shopping.

While I am thankful to Mrs. Reese for teaching me how to sew, I have learned so much more from her. I have learned that it's o.k. to watch Judge Judy and laugh at it. I've learned that it usually takes about four times as long to fix a mistake as it does to make it. (So it's better to take your time the first time.) I've learned how to throw my head back and laugh while walking like a model in my new skirt. And I've learned that if you want to give someone something, you don't ask them if they want it, you just give it to them. (Every week I leave her house not only with more knowledge of how to sew, but also usually with a Wal-Mart bag full of her home-cooked food.)

Mrs. Reese is part of what I call my "old lady club." It's basically a running list that I keep in my head of older women who exhibit qualities that I want to have when I get that age. I try to spend as much time with these women as possible so that I can soak up all of their wisdom. Hopefully, if I live long enough, one day I will be a part of someone else's "old lady club."

My dream job

Last Friday night, some friends and I were playing with some conversation cards. One question was asked "What is your dream job?" My response was "the job I have right now." Some find this hard to believe. In fact, I have a hard time believing it myself. I have heard so many horror stories from first year teachers about the frustrations they experience that I always expected my first year to be horrible. However, I find myself in a situation that can only be described as a "dream." I have a manageable number of students, great co-workers, wonderful support from the administration and my kids are making progress. I couldn't ask for anything more.

Last Monday while at a training session, the leader was trying to convey to us the importance of the IEP (Individualized Education Plan). At first, she said "If you were to drop dead tonight, the IEP needs to be written in such a way that someone could come in and take over your job and understand the student and the best way to work with him." Then she thought that was too morbid so she changed "drop dead" to "win the lottery." Obviously she assumed that if we won enough money from the lottery, we would not need to work for money any longer and would therefore quit our jobs. I tried to imagine what I would do if I suddenly had enough money that I didn't need to work for a living. That is when it hit me again that I truly do have a dream job because, if put in that situation, I would keep showing up for work. I'm glad that I get paid for my job because, right now, I do need money to pay my bills and to buy food, etc. However, money is not my main motivation for going to work. If it were, I could easily find a job that paid twice as much where I had to work half as hard. But when your actual job is your "dream job" you don't really think about how hard you are working in relation to how much you get paid. You work as hard as you need to to get the job done because you truly love what you are doing.

Is it honesty or rudeness?

This past week I have had several incidents where my students have blurted out rude and/or disrespectful statements either to their peers or to adults.

On Monday morning, one of our girls, who usually has lots of braids and barrettes in her hair, came in with her hair all done up in two big puffy balls on the top of her head. "I went to the beauty shop yesterday" she said with obvious pride. Soon, the boy who sits next to her came in. He calmly went about his business, putting away his bookbag, getting out his snack, making his lunch choice and then "AAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!," he exclaimed as he sat down next to her. "What happened to your hair!?!"

On Tuesday morning, as the students were getting settled in, a mother walked her daughter into our classroom and said to one of our students, "Wow, that's quite a hair-do, buddy!" Without pausing he looked at her and said "Um, would you stop talking, please?" (As I was making him apologize, she also admitted that her statement was quite rude.)

Later in the week, while trying to coax a sad pre-schooler to participate in play time, I said "Come on, let's go to the gym. It will make you feel better." He looked pensive for a few seconds and then said "No, it won't make me feel better, it will just make you feel better."

I know that none of these students were trying to be rude; they just said the first thing that came to mind. In a way, I find this honesty refreshing, charming even. It is one of the reasons that I don't think it is my job to "fix" them, but rather to give them the tools necessary to succeed in a world that often is not very compatible with their way of thinking. While they are in the "school world", they will be somewhat protected by teachers, IEPs and parents who can fend for them. However, even as a Kindergarten teacher, I always keep the "real world" in the back of my mind. I picture one of my students being pulled over by a cop. Somehow, I don't think the cop will find it charming when he says "Um, would you stop talking please?"

Minister arrested after jail ruckus

Who needs The Onion when your hometown newspaper runs stories like this one?

Come to the Edge

This past Thursday we went on another field trip, this time to see Cinderella. As usual, I was anxious yet hopeful for my student who did not want to go. This time we decided to have his mother along as a chaperone to see if it would help. Knowing the student and the parent, I was confident that it was not going to be any worse and was hopeful that it would be a little better. He did remain calmer longer: he got on the bus independently and remained calm until we got into the lobby of the theatre. When he broke down, I was determined to at least get him further than we got him last time. I firmly took him by the shoulders and told him that he needed to use self control and gave him my clipboard to hold. Then, with my arm around him, we walked almost to the door of the theatre before he collapsed again. I was hoping to get him into the theatre, but I was at least happy that we were further than we got last time so I found a bench for him to sit on right outside the door. I knew that once the show started, his curiosity would pull him further in.

Once the show started he calmed down, so we propped the door open. All he had to do was walk two steps to the left and he could see most of the stage, but he was reluctant. To speed him along, his mother and I began telling him about things on the stage. I even went into the theatre a couple of times to take pictures with my digital camera. Then I would come out and show them to him so he could see that it wasn't scary. But he still would not budge. Once, his mother mentioned that there was a dog was on stage. He asked me what color the dog was. I went to look, but when I came back I told him that I wasn't going to tell him: if he wanted to know, he was going to have to get up and look for himself. This still did not seem to work, so I decided to leave him alone for a while and I went in to watch the play for about 10 minutes.

When I came back out to check on him, he was standing as far away from the door as he could, but he could see the stage and he was eagerly watching the play. As soon as he saw me he smiled and said "Mrs. __________ the dog is black! Except, I think it's a cow." I laughed out loud because, honestly, that was exactly what I thought when I saw it.

As the play went on, his mother and I slowly crept closer and closer toward the door and he followed without even realizing it. Before he knew it, he was standing inside the theater. At one point, he took several steps in front of us until he was standing further inside the theatre than the very seats that, just a few minutes earlier, had brought tears to his eyes because the thought of sitting in them was so scary. After about 10 minutes of him standing there, I went and sat down in one of the seats. When he noticed me, he smiled and said "Hey, I can sit down!" and he did.

A couple of months ago, the poem below was presented at one of our faculty meetings. As soon as I read it, I looked around the room until I made eye contact with the regular ed. teacher that I work with. We both smiled at each other because we were both thinking of the same student.

Come to the edge.

We might fall.

Come to the edge.

It's too high!

Come to the edge.

And they came,

and we pushed,

And they flew.

Christopher Logue

As I was sitting in the theatre with him beside me, I once again made eye contact with the regular ed. teacher, who had been looking back to check on our progress every few minutes. We both smiled at each other because we knew that all of our pushing had not been in vain. To the average person, sitting in a theatre may not seem like a big deal, but at that point, I felt like we were the most successful teachers in the world.

I think Mr. Gecko is afraid of the Nutcracker.

Before Christmas we went on a field trip to see The Nutcracker. I went to school that day with the same combination of anxiety and determination that I had when we went on the previous field trip. I knew that the same student was not going to want to go, but I also knew that he could do it and I hoped that it would get a little easier each time. This time we still had to force him on the bus, but he walked to the bus on his own. He also got off the bus and walked into the lobby of the theatre on his own, but just like last time, he broke down once he got inside. I got him to sit on a bench in the lobby close to the door of the theatre and he soon calmed down.

Mrs. ___________

Yes dear.

I think Mr. Gecko is afraid of the Nutcracker.

I looked over at the green weighted animal in his lap. His hands had been placed over his eyes like a small child waiting for a monster to come out from under his bed. Soon a man who worked in the building came over and tried to help. I explained to him that Mr. Gecko was afraid of the Nutcracker. He asked if Mr. Gecko had seen the Nutcracker. My student said no and the man replied "Oh, well I've seen the Nutcracker and he is not scary at all. Why don't I take Mr. Gecko over to the door so he can look in and see the Nutcracker?" Then this fifty-something stranger took the stuffed animal to the door, opened it and held Mr. Gecko up so he could see the Nutcracker. (I would love to have seen the faces of the people in the theatre.) When the man came back I asked Mr. Gecko if the Nutcracker was scary and Mr. Gecko shook his head no.

We were never able to coax him into the theatre, but we did talk him into letting us prop the door open so he could see part of the stage from where we were sitting. As the performance went on, curiosity got the better of him and he got very close to the door.

This is so awesome! Mrs. ____________, this is so awesome!

Sorry

My deepest apologies to all (two) of my blog fans. I have been slightly distracted over the past few months with trying to graduate. Even when I wasn't working on my final project, I felt guilty doing anything remotely relaxing or fun until I was finished. Well, now I'm finished and I have guilt free time on my hands so hopefully I will be posting with more frequency.