On my way

I recently accepted a teaching job in Istanbul and have been letting it all sink in. I'm knocking things off of my 'to-do' list that are getting me closer to making the move a reality: fingerprints sent to the CA Department of Justice for a background clearance, 24 passport photos (I had to double check with the principal that this was the accurate amount, because I couldn't think of why on Earth anyone would need that many!), scheduled a physical examination to ensure that I will be able to perform the duties required of me in my new position, and most importantly, perhaps, signing the contract. Signing the contract and sending it in has really made the whole adventure official for me. I set that as the marker for when I would tell my current principal that I am for sure, 100% not going to be here next year. Telling my principal remains on my 'to-do' list. I have decided to let her know the week after Spring Break. With all of the other teachers leaving at our school and all of the funding-related uncertainties in the district, I probably shouldn't give her another thing to worry about over break.

"See ya later!" said H, heading out to recess.
She was already out the door, but I yelled back, "Alligator!"
Without skipping a beat, she yells back, "YOU a alligator!!!" She was hidden by the door frame, but I could picture her: hands on hips, slight neck twist, one foot in front of the other. Always ready with a quick comeback. Warmed up for the school yard awaiting her.

Nanny 911

On the plane yesterday, I was forced to listen to a painful dialogue between a young boy and his hip young dad, who was bordering a little too much on the friend side and not enough on the dad side. The dialogue sounded a lot like bickering, where the dad was trying to prove the kid wrong and everything was negotiated. All the while, the dad tried to insert valuable life lessons into the exchange.

When I first started listening in (for the record, I wasn't intentionally trying to eavesdrop- I was trying to read my book, but they were being so loud, as if the dad thought everyone on the plane would find this exchange endearing instead of repulsive), the kid was pretending to break his dad's fingers and was actually trying to pull them back. The dad said, "Don't break Daddy's fingers. Dad needs his fingers to work. I'm very protective of my hands. How will I cut hair without my hands?" The kid, still yanking on his dad's fingers, replied, "I want to break them!!" "If you break them, how am I going to make any money to buy you things? I need my hands to work," the dad explained patiently. I frowned at this twisted logic. Shouldn't the kid not want to break his dad's fingers simply because it's the wrong thing to do? Was he teaching him that only in situations where it's financially profitable for you should you do the right thing? I tried to focus back in on my book, but at the same time was fascinated by their dynamic and couldn't help but listen.

At one point, the child said that he was not going to ski- clearly trying to get a reaction from his dad who wanted him to ski, but wanted him to go to ski school. Except it was all framed in the form of questions: "Don't you think it would be better for you to learn a little more and get a little better in ski school? Do you think you remember the pizza and french fries? Don't you think you need to practice a little more in ski school?" To which the child answered "no, yes, no." He was headstrong and adamantly opposed to going ski school. After a lot of back and forth, the dad tried to slyly change the subject and talked over the kid, who was still repeating that he was NOT going to ski at ALL. The dad squashed the kid's words, wack-a-mole style with his own words, and changed the topic of their conversation to the map of the United States on the complementary airline napkins. "That's where Daddy lives and that's where we came from. Here's where we're going," he explained. I have to say that as a teacher, I appreciated his attempt to infuse the flight and their ear numbing back and forth with some educational value. The kid paused for a second and said, "I want to go to Texas." He must have been pointing to the state, because his dad replied, "Wow, how did you know that was Texas?"
"I just know what shape it has."
"You're so smart! Is there a particular thing about Texas that interests you?"
"Dirt."
"Dirt?"
"They have a lot of dirt.... and if we were there, I could kick it at you."
The dad starts to change the topic again, but the kid continues, "I would make a big pile and just kick it at you!"
My jaw dropped. He could talk like that to his dad and get away with it?? I waited for the dad's reaction. I wished that one of those sensible British nannies from Nanny 911 would drop in, like an emergency oxygen mask, and give him a little guidance... but no such luck. Finally, I managed to tune them out and drift into sleep.

applications

I am knee deep in research for international schools abroad. I am casting my nets far and wide. Far into the Pacific at a school in the Marshall Islands, far South at a school in Sao Paolo, BR, Trinidad and Tobago, and wide to the UK, Morocco, Spain, Tanzania. My search is a little trickier, because I am looking for special education positions and prefer elementary (though honestly, if a school in Barcelona offers me a high school position, I'll throw my arms around it and won't look back). I was surprised to find that a lot of international schools do have special education programs and imagine that they must look a lot different than your typical special education program in a public school here. So, I am throwing darts at a map, bouncing around on the little roulette spinner of fate and hoping one of my nets comes back full.

ANTS

Our school is overrun by ants. This has been an ongoing problem since the beginning of the year, but the last few weeks have seemed particularly bad. At any given moment, I'll notice an ant creeping along a student's sweater or the whiteboard. I'll feel a slight tickle on my arm and look down to see brave little pioneer ant, who has strayed from the pack to look for food in the most unlikely of places. My students will point them out and I calmly say, "Oh, no big deal," as I flick them off. My countertops have become marching grounds, where ants, who plod along in determined and disciplined lines, look for food. It is a living Dali painting. We spray, clean, wipe, put things away... but they have a way of sneaking into everything! Even the opened bag of lollipops on my desk, with its lollipop each individually wrapped plastic wrappers was infested with ants!
On one particularly gross incident, the teacher next door came in one morning to find her defenseless mealworm pupa being devoured by ants. She had unknowingly left a succulent feast for our little guests and set the scene for a mealworm massacre. Her class' science project went straight for the compost bin. Incidentally, my class was reading a book about ants, so I was able to share that story to demonstrate that ants eat other insects, to a loud chorus of "ewwwwwwwwwwws." As pesky as they are, the ants have become a common part of the day to day, scaling the furniture and walls of our classrooms- a terrain with a constant supply of treats. It looks like they're here to stay for a while. Maybe I should build on that and do an ant unit..... maybe.

Santa Claus

When I taught middle school, I would respond to inappropriate questions about sex by telling kids to go ask their parents. ie: student: "Ms. V, what does it mean, "do it missionary with your toes curled." Me: "Ask your grandma when you get home." Now, I respond the same way to kids asking about Santa Claus. Student: "Is Santa Claus real?" Me: ".......??...... ask your mom?" I don't want to build the myth, but neither do I want to be the one responsible for demolishing it.

A sense of wonder

For the last several weeks, my class has been learning about the Solar System and how we fit into it. We've been using the FOSS science kits, which are exploration-based and are very good. The "Sun, Moon, and Stars" unit starts by observing how the sun "moves" across the sky from East to West. Students used compasses to find East and West and traced their shadows throughout the day while standing on the line. Back in the classroom, we used a globe with a slightly raised piece of tape symbolizing a person and the overhead projector to observe the same phenomenon and to explain and visualize that it is the Earth that is actually moving, and not the sun. We have also read several books on the Sun and the planets.

During one of these Read Alouds, while looking at a picture of the Solar System, and pointing out the blue and green ball that symbolized Earth, L raised his hand. "But, how... I mean... How did we get on that ball??" he asked incredulously. He seemed to be grappling with the immense concept that we live on a gigantic sphere, perpetually spinning around in a vast emptiness. At that moment, I was reminded of how amazing it all really is and let him know so. It's easy to walk past the things in our world that happen every day and forget how fascinating they really are. I feel lucky to work with children and to be constantly inspired by their raw sense of wonder.