Things that happened today

1. A. innocently asked with concern: "Ms. V., What's that red bump on your lip?" I thought about making something up, but hey, it was 8:30am and I wasn't feeling too creative in that department, "It's a pimple," I replied. He gave me a sorry kind of grimace and we continued with our reading strategy lesson.

2. I had two extra students who had not been allowed to go on their second grade field trip. One of these students could not sit in his seat for more than 20 seconds. Everytime I turned around and looked back, he would be arched over his seat looking underneath or midway off of his seat, or forgoing the seat altogether and just kneeling on the floor while "doing his work" on his desk. This scene seemed familiar to me. It took me a minute and then I realized that this was exactly how N. used to be at the beginning of the year. He's still squirrely- don't get me wrong- but he's definitely calmed down A LOT. He doesn't put on a circus act on his chair throughout the day, for one. It was nice to get that perspective of how far N. had come and it was also exhausting to think of the energy it had taken to travel the trajectory from chaos to calm in my class this year.

3. The title of "quickest to sit down in a line and close our mouths when we hear the end-of-recess bell" belonged to my class yet again today. Again, I was escorted out to the recess line ceremoniously to be crowned. In addition to this honor for a second day in a row, we also received a scented candle as a prize for our classroom- french vanilla. My students were excited to point out that "It came from France, just like you!" (I apologize to all the middle school teachers who may be reading this, for whom the cheesiness and la-di-da-ness of elementary produces a gag reaction- I know it's cheesy, but I love it).

4. We are one chapter away from finishing the book "Matilda," which although it had some pretty challenging language, my kids all enjoyed. The plot of small and clever defeating big and evil never tires. A couple of chapters ago, when we had just read about Matilda's powers, Little Capone leaned back and sighed, " I wish I could have those powers...." I remember feeling that way when I was reading the book for the first time in elementary school. "I know..." I said. I guess that's what makes Roald Dahl such a great author.

My big fat classroom 7th birthday party

Or C's big fat classroom 7th birthday party to be exact. C is turning 7 tomorrow; Friday. His mom called to schedule a pizza party in our room a week ago and it looks like it's panning out to be a big production. C had already been talking about this party months ago. He sat at the cafeteria tables in the morning, meticulously writing up lists of who was invited to his party and letting all invitees know, as if he were giving them backstage passes to the most exclusive show of the year. He also told some people that they were not in fact privee to this selective celebration. The old "you're not invited to my birthday party" insult is alive and well it seems.

I didn't give it much thought, since C often embellishes the truth and sometimes straight up fabricates stories. I just played along when he ceremoniously informed me that I was in fact invited, along with Mrs. R.

Last week, however, I found out that C's grandiose party plans were not all fantastical when his mom called to ask if she could host it in our class. I negotiated a time with her: 2:30 and assured her that they would be plenty hungry for pizza and cake at that time. From the few things that she told me, it sounds like she's planning quite a production. She wanted to make sure that the kids would be at recess before the party, so that she could come, helium tank in tow, to blow up balloons and decorate the room. Since the start of the party planning, I have received two phone calls on my cell phone from C's mom- the first to request a list of names of all the students in the class, and another to ask how many table covers she should buy (she was at the store and needed immediate consultation). I had no idea how much to do there was going to be over this birthday party. I'm expecting something big. A party to put all other 7th birthday parties to shame... should be fun.

In the meantime, holding the birthday party over C's head hasn't seemed to curb his behavior in any way. Today, he already ran away during recess, forcing two adults to go looking for him and I just got a report that he lost his instrument priveleges in music class because he wasn't listening to his teacher there. Sigh.

Maybe he sees through my empty threats- I wouldn't have the heart to call up his mom and tell her that it's off, when I know how much work she's done to get it together.

Burger Playground Queen For A Day

Every time I go out of town or more precisely, every time I take one of my sick days so that I can go out of town, I get the sense that my students thought I was going to leave for good. This weekend, I had extended my already long holiday weekend to go visit my Italian grandma who is visiting my family in Chicago. Although I don't regret taking the time to go see her- which is, afterall usually a once-a -year occasion, I did feel like I was walking into school on this Wednesday, with my tail between my legs.

I got the warmest welcome, however, when I met my kids at our line where they couldn't wait to tell me that they had a surprise for me amidst hushed whispers.... "we wrote you letters" someone finally blurted out, to which came angry replies: "Why did you tell herrrrrrrr!" It felt nice to be missed.

After lunch, J. came to get me and asked if I could be the one to come pick them up from recess (usually my paraprofessional brings them back), adding, "We have a surprise for you." I walked out onto our playground to find my entire class sitting in a near perfect line on the asphalt- a little giggly and squirmy. They had won the 2 day old, schoolwide, daily playground contest of getting into a perfect line before any other class at the sound of the end-of-recess bell. Mrs. R- my classroom para- presented me with their prize: a Burger King crown adorned in rhinestones, for me, the classroom teacher to wear the rest of the day, to boast my kids' accomplishments. It was being presented to me like the head of a slain dragon and I reacted with as much enthusiasm as if my imaginary kingdom had just been rid of such a beast. "Wow!" I exclaimed, adding exaggerated gestures of swooning and cheering in celebration of their victory. There was a lot of giggling and excitement at having given me this gift- currently, the newest and therefore biggest honor in school. We paraded back to class, my head the trophy.
"I'm gon do all my work, 'cause you a queen," said N. "Great," I replied.
"You're a queen! You're a princess!"
"Ms. V, that's just a Burger King crown with jewel things stuck on," T told me in a low voice, maybe to make sure I wasn't letting all this talk of monarchy go to my head.
And just so I didn't get too attached, at Read Aloud, I passed the crown on to J., who had been doing a great job all day.
At the end of the day, I returned the crown to its cardboard box in the copy room to await the crowning of a new monarch at the end of tomorrow's recess.

working in an elementary school allows you to overhear some pretty hilarious conversations. As I was turning in my attendance to our counselor, I see a student who is frequently in trouble looking around to avoid eye contact with her. She is asking him as seriously as if he had stabbed another child:
'So, if someone calls you a 'booboohead' does that give you the right to hit them? Is that something that's written in our rules in the office: "If someone calls you a booboohead, hit them?!"'
The kid was cornered and solemnly answered 'no' to each question. I turned in my attendance and returned to my classroom laughing to myself.

AARP

apparently I am fully elligible for the benefits offered my membership the the AARP! I keep receiving mailings from them stating this. How did I get on that mailing list??? I know I go to bed early, but come on.

One class, divided

Recently, I found a torn envelope (torn open for writing space), on JJ's desk with these words on it:
side 1:
"I hate you JJ because I thaught you were my best friend the you wan't to start a fight with me you remember the good times we had together."

side 2:
"Dear C., I thot you was one of us. But you say some nast words to L. and I am not your friend. We are not sorry for you."

then a scrunched response in the corner from C:
"then I am going to tell everbody you secret."

Drrrrrrrrrrrrrama. Who knew that they would put the friendly letter writing skills that I taught them last week to immediate use?? I'm actually pretty impressed, especially that JJ's made sense after the first sentence. Should I file this away as a writing sample? naaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah.

the bees and the bees

At recess today, I noticed that all my kids had gathered around one section of the play structure.
"A bee! A bee!" they were all yelling.
"Leave the bee alone!!" I warned
They did not leave the bee alone. A couple of them were poking and proding from above and underneath the holes in the playground platform.
"If the bee stings you............" this warning was left pending, the ending blank for them to infer.
Finally their cries changed to "Save the bee!! We have to save the bee!!"
Since no amount of warning from afar was convincing them to back away from this poor creature, I went to see what they were actually doing to it. As I peered over their huddled shoulders, I saw two bees copulating. One big female bee below and another small male bee on top, trying to follow the program laid out in his DNA in spite of the ten peering faces and 20 ogling eyes.
And my kids, as it turns out, had organized a small campaign to save the larger bee from the brutish attack of the one on top. "Save the bee! Save the bee!" they urgently cried. In their eyes, they were righting a wrong in the bee kingdom, preventing a bee mugging, putting an end to bee bullying- "This kind of behavior will not be tolerated on our school campus, bees!" they seemed to say, " Justice will be served!"
And because they just weren't letting this cause go, I rallied them up for an equally important campaign- snack time.

flytraps, pitchers, trumpets, oh my!

The trip to the conservatory was a success! My kids got really into the exhibit. I had them sketch various types of carnivorous plants, find where in the world they were from, and describe their color. Most of them were excitedly going from plant to plant, taking in the details... there were also those who didn't listen to the guide when she told them not to stick anything in the Venus Flytraps and got benched after repeated offenses (turns out that each trap can only close about 7 times in its life and that it needs to catch a morsel at least 3 out of those 7 times). But the majority of my students had a great time. The exhibit was set up really well, so that each pot had a magnifying glass attached to it. Kids got really excited to see bugs crawling inside the plants. They even had large models of a pitcher plant and a venus flytrap, with a crank for kids to open and close a trap.
The air in the Conservatory was hot and humid, perfect for a foggy and chilly day like today. I took a lot of pictures, but most of them got erased from my camera somehow...
Here is a non-carnivore that was pretty amazing:

carnivores

TO: C's Mom

This is what happens when you let a six year old pack his own lunch:
1. Two Peanut Butter and jelly sandwiches
2. three packs of fruitsnacks (2 of which he generously gave to my classroom aid and I)
3. two capri suns
4. one package of reeses peanut butter cups
5. one little baggie stuffed to the brim with cheddar goldfish

shall we tally up the sugar in this lunch? I would be afraid to try.


When C's mom came to school today to sign his field trip form at the last minute, she noticed that he didn't have a sweater. She reprimanded him for not having one, since he clearly knew that he was going to the park. Then she turned to me and said, "You know, I'm not up when he gets ready for school." Well, maybe if you somehow found it in you to get out of bed, you could see that your son, who is in no way ready to take care of himself at six years of age, is properly clothed for the weather and has a nutritional lunch that will not take him down a sure path to obesity. These are (obviously) things that I refrain from saying aloud. Did I mention that C is hyperactive, which is the main reason that he was placed in a special day class? Could this in any way be related to the above list? hmmmmmmmm.

confession

carnivorous plants, wreak havoc in the park

This is the headline for the image that I think I left most of my students with at the end of the day when I was trying to pump up the field trip that we are taking tomorrow to the Conservatory of Flowers.

Usually field trips need no hyping, but only two kids brought back their permission slips and so I felt that I had to stress how critical it was for them to bring them by tomorrow and how much fun they would miss if they somehow forgot to.

I plugged the field trip mercilessly throughout the day, talking about how me and the two kids who brought their permission slips would have SUCH a great time at the exhibit and playing at the coolest playground in Golden Gate Park, until my kids pleadingly cried: "Ok, we'll bring them in tomorrow!!!!"

Just to make sure though, as they lined up to go home, I drove my point home again.
"We are going to be seeing the meat eating plants tomorrow. Plants that eat meat. Make sure you bring your permission slips."
Eyes bulged and incredulous eyes stared back at me.
I didn't say anything untrue, but I hope they're not disappointed when the plants aren't hunting down bunny rabbits in the park's meadows or gnawing on chicken drumsticks.

what a man

I finally got the nudge I needed to sell my car. That nudge was provided by Reggie, who actually made it really painless when he... took care of everything for me. When I voiced to him that I was thinking about posting an ad on craigslist earlier this morning, he confessed that he had already done so and asked if I was mad. Mad?? Heck no. I didn't know how to express my gratitude. This is exactly the intervention that I needed to handle my own snail-stuck-in-molasses style approach to dealing with anything that's wrong with my car (this has caused some real frustration for some of my family members by the way- namely, my poor dad). What is really hard to explain, because it is totally illogical on my part, is that I have a weird mental block about doing things for my car. Whenever there is something wrong with my car, I wait until the last possible minute to take care of it, while it weighs on my mind at every waking hour. Then, when I finally take care of it, I see that it was actually no big deal and wonder why I didn't take care of it earlier. yes, it's a vicious cycle.. I know.

Well, I've been thinking about selling/getting rid of my car and buying a new (or used) one for hmmmmmmm, about 4 years now, but for some reason, it was never a convenient time. I would always talk myself out of it by asking myself questions like these: What if I go teach abroad next year? What will I do with a brand new car then? What if I go back to school next year? Will I want to have this as an additional expense?- and would decide to wait just another year. Although it sounds like laziness induced procrastination, I think the bottom line is that (at the fear of reinforcing a stereotype about women and cars) this is a subject that I know very little about (and don't even really have the vocabulary to bullshit about), and that I feel extremely uncomfortable tackling. This is why I am so thankful for the nudge and all the extra help. Reggie not only posted the ad, purchased a few tools and parts, fixed the doors, vaccuumed the car, and talked to people who expressed interest. In my defense, I did replace the left headlight... but I can truly say that the thought of posting an ad for my car and fixing the small things that were wrong with it would have remained just a thought for a few more years had he not just done it for me.

sometimes a person needs a serious intervention.

Reggie also stopped by school today, exuding a manly aura (must have been all the car repairing) that cast a spell on JJ who was mesmerized with him as soon as he set foot on the playground. He immediately came up to me and said, "C said that's your boyfriend. C said that's your boyfriend. C said that's your boyfriend.." on repeat. The strategy of playing something down or ignoring it is one that doesn't work with him- he's persistent that JJ. He then ran off to get C so that he could confess what he had said, which I only noticed when I saw him shoving him towards me with his hands behind his back. C was cracking up... I attempted ignoring them again. Then came time to round up the troops. We had a fun last hour planned of watching the movie "The Mouse and The Motorcycle" (we just finished reading the book). JJ rushed to get Reggie a chair. I asked JJ if he wanted to read to Reggie after the movie, but JJ ran to the classroom library to pick out a book to read with him right then. He sat and read a short book from start to finish, totally ignoring the movie that was playing, and not once asking to return to the rug with the rest of the class to watch it. When it came time for Reggie to leave, JJ looked alarmed and saddened. He is being raised by his mom and grandma and is definitely craving adult male attention. Maybe Mr. Reggie can make some future appearances in room 103... keep the kids happy.

21 days left

that is the word around school... offered like a drop of water to a parched mouth or a scrap of food to a starving stomach. It is pretty clear from taking a look around that everyone is very eager for school to be done. As for me, I'm making sure to follow my new policy of staying clear of the teacher's lounge, the 3rd grade pod, the computer lab, or any other rooms where disgruntled teachers might congregate. I guess it's not a new policy persay, but I never stuck to it as strictly as I should have. Although I enjoy complaining as much as the next person, I find that a group of tired teachers all in one room together can really create a whirpool of depressing negativity... and it's a thin line between funny commiseration and circular, pointless bitching.

Ironically, the 3rd grade teachers say that they avoid the teacher's lounge for the very same reason that I avoid their joint lunches. I guess they want to be able to do all the complaining and not have to listen to anyone else complain. So I am in hiding now in the last safe bunker of my school, my one neutral spot- my room, where the lights are dim and NPR is blaring... because I'd rather fill my ears with the Talk of the Nation, than with which kid did what obnoxious thing last period.

Today was awesome.
First, it was awesome, because it was Career Day, the grand finale in our Spirit Week. Because my kids are often out of the loop when it comes to things like this, I pumped it up so that they would remember and bug their parents about helping them come up with a costume. Our school today was filled with young business men and women, aspiring lawyers, police officers, sanitation and construction workers, teachers (warms the heart). My classroom, however, had the best costumes by far. M, who as long as he's been in my class has been obsessed with the Solar System and wanted to be an astronaut came dressed in a Bally's silver-colored work out suit- It was large and puffy, kind of like the garbage bag outfit Missy Elliot had in her Supa Dupa Fly video and had a raincoat like texture. He also had a headset that got confiscated by the principal as soon as he walked in to school, but his silver puffy outfit alone was a winner. Then there was N. Now, I really admire N's parents because they have three kids at our school and every single one came dressed up (nothing fancy- clothes creatively put together to make great home made outfits... and I've gotta say, I love the homemade a bijillion times more than any store- bought costume). N. was an aspiring doctor today. He had a button down shirt with a tie, underneath one of his dad's huge white button down shirts, which on him, looked like a lab coat. He had a little suitcase filled with fisher price style plastic doctor's tools and was ex-ci-ted about his costume. All day he recpeated,"I better be good today, cause I'm a doctor," a constant reminder that he should do his work and listen to his "teacha'." I dressed up as a mad scientist... 'cause, who doesn't want to be that when they grow up? I had these big goggle-like glasses with turning lenses like a kaleidoscope. They were quite a hit.

Then, we had not one, but two concerts at our school. The first was a Nigerian drumming duo, who were so much fun and got the kids up and dancing. In the afternoon, a brass trio from the Symphony's 'Adventures in Music' program came to perform. It was great.

Since it also happens to be Teacher Appreciation Week at my school, we got treated to some barbeque made by our parent helper extraordinaire (this man is so amazing) and organized by our administration. In my 4 years of teaching, this BBQ takes the cake as far as getting treated right. Parent Volunteers watched the kids in the yard and helped in the cafeteria so that the whole staff could eat together. It was great to have a delicious and relaxed non-working meal and to realize how much I do like the people that I work with (it's been so tense in our school lately). As if BBQ chicken, corn on the cob, grilled sausages, and all the fixins weren't enough to make us feel special, our security guard stopped by early in the morning before her SURGERY to drop off the most amazing peach cobbler this side of anywhere. It was truly special.

Today was very relaxed in the classroom too. Because there were so many extra things planned throughout the day, we just finished up all of the things that we had been preparing for Mother's Day. This is one of the only times that I let the elementary teacher come out in me (mostly because I remembered the holiday and planned for it ahead) and planned a cute project. The kids made "wish trains" for their moms and wrote their wishes for their mom in each car, covered by a little construction paper flap. It was very heart-warmingly elementary and my students loved making them. M., got a little confused about what the wishes were about and wrote things that he wished that his mom would get him: " (first car)I wish that you get me flowers because they smell. (second car) But not ones with bees because they will sting us. (3rd car) I wish that you will buy me super-heroes, (4th car) because I want spider man 3 action figures." I explained to him that since it was his mom's special day, he should try to make some wishes for her- things that she would like. For example, that she should be getting flowers. Well, M. is an only child (is it ever not his day?? How dare anyone suggest that?) and is very, very stubborn (a symptom of his autism) and only changed it after much, much coaxing. I was still suspicious about the last two cars where he wrote, "I wish that you will get a cowboy toy. I wish that you can fix your broken toy." Hmmmmm. I asked him if his mom really had a broken toy and if she wanted a cowboy toy. "Cause she doesn't have a cowboy toy," was his response. Hmmmm, 'she' doesn't huh?
Little Capone wished that his mom could "get a new really cool old school car." All the rest of them were also very, very cute and thoughtful.

In conclusion, today was awesome

broken record broken record broken record broken record broken

All I want to do today is curl up and read in bed or file and sand away at my jewelry project at home. I do not want to tell kids for the billionth time to walk and not run, to look in front of them so that they don't crash into anyone, to raise their hand before talking. On days like this, I am over the whole broken record aspect of teaching.

Mother's Day letters

Having my kids write Mother's Day cards today was an interesting endeavour. The activity is something that they were all inherently excited about- a surprise for mom... ooooooo- la-la. The results were mixed. Many kids expressed love for their moms because they buy them new toys and new clothes. Some listed favorite foods as reasons for their love- apparently C's mom's nachos are quite a crowd-pleaser. Little Capone wrote a whole page about the great present that he was going to get his mom: "Mom, you will love the present I got you. I got you two presents. I know that you will just love the two presents that I got you...." and on and on for a page. I suggested that he write a few lines about why he loves his mom. I said, "Does your mom do things with you? Does she cook something that you really like?" His expression turned somber, because since he had completed a whole page, he didn't really understand why I was suggesting that he do anything more. "I'm done though," was his steady answer. "Come on L.... You can write a little more; it'll make your mom so happy." After sitting in a pout for about five minutes, he added: "Mom, I love your beautiful hair and you cook for me when I'm hungry. Love, L."
Then there was M. His letter was very matter-of-fact: "Mom, I love you because you let me sleep with you when my toys were bugging me in my room and I slept with you and dad. I love you because you work Monday through Friday. Love, M."

T's letter, however, broke my heart. It is easy to assume, as a teacher, that everyone will love the Mother's Day activity that has been planned. Well, if you have a negligent mom, writing a loving letter to her may not actually be the most exciting or joyful thing. Had I thought it through a little more, I would have suggested an alternate activity like writing a Mother's Day letter to a teacher at school, and auntie, a grandma... unfortunately, I did not.

This is approximately what T. wrote:
"Dear Mom,
How are you doing, Mom? Are you ok? Are you? Are you sleeping? Will you get out of bed today? Are you sad or happy? I hope that you are happy. Love, T."
It is hard to give feedback to a letter like that or to read it with a neutral expression. I imagined him giving it to her and the negative reaction that it would probably get from his mom- who wants to be reminded of their depression and the fact that you are a neglectful parent? Especially by the little one that you are neglecting? T. is the kid in my class who always comes to school with dirty clothes, his white shirt a dull grey. He is often absent from school because he is allowed to "sleep in"- ie: no one wakes him up, because no one at home is concerned enough about his going to school. He makes up fantastical stories about his mom, who on one account drives a limo, or in another accounts works for whatever store we happen to be talking about or walking by. He tells stories of his dad picking him up in the early morn to take him to the beach and watch the fog roll in. Each story is rich with detail. Each story is pure fabrication. Sometimes, details of his actual situation slip into his stories: that his mom is sad, that she never gets out of bed, that he cooks dinner for his younger siblings.... and in spite of all this, the letter's tone is not spiteful or resentful, although he seems to know that he has had no luck in the draw. His letter is concerned and begs to be noticed and loved. It made me deeply sad and I am still thinking about it tonight.

big cosmic joke

It isn't often that I think the forces of the universe are scheming against me or that the cosmos hold a mysterious plan for my life that I must somehow unravel. On most days, I am content to live with no need for the comfort of a higher deity: we live, die, turn to dust, amen. That, somehow, has never bothered me.

Recently though, it seems that someone with a sort of all-knowing 6th sense and a dark sense of humor has been hurling hints at me like rotten tomatoes from up above. It's as though this certain someone had laid out a large dot-to-dot puzzle, begging to be noticed and connected. I picture this mystery being shaking their head at how obvious the puzzle is and at my inability to ascribe enough meaning to random events to link them together into a coherent picture.

This is what I'm talking about:
Part 1:

Last Friday, I talked with my housemate about a screen printing class that she is taking. I used to take a class at the same art center with a different teacher who happens to be dating her teacher. I mentioned that it had been such a long time (about a year) since I'd gone to the class and that I wanted to start again. My housemate invited me to a show that her teacher was having, where, she inferred I would also see my old teacher. I made a mental note to go to this show and have since been reminded by the postcard affixed to our fridge.

Sunday, I took a long walk with my friend Reggie, afterwhich we stopped to eat a piece of pie (key lime... mmmm- I don't think this has any particular significance in the story, but I could be proven wrong) in the Sunset. While sitting outside at the cafe, I saw a woman walk in who looked familiar. In a few seconds, after she had already passed, I realized that it was my old printing teacher. When she came out, I was having a conversation and for some reason felt awkward shouting her name. Later that day in a totally different part of the city- Dolores Park- as I stood and talked to another chance encouter, who should I see, but my former teacher and her beau walking down the street. This time I stopped her and chatted a bit. I resolved to go back to printing classes in the next few weeks.

Part 2:

While I was on that long walk with Reggie in the Sunset, we happened to pass by a large Catholic school. This school triggered memories of my gloomy days as a teacher at another Catholic school which shall remain nameless. Working at this school was definitely a low, low canyon in the landscape of my teaching experience. Here's the brief story: I taught all subjects to a class of 8th grade girls (general consensus: not the nicest human beings on the planet). These same girls had very confrontational parents, I did not feel supported by my administration, and began to feel the weight of depression and took up crocheting and drinking wine and indulged in unhealthy amounts of both. These were my dark ages, my blue period... and I felt so terrible as a whole that after much reflection, I decided to quit mid-year... probably the worst thing a teacher can do to a class. As a direct result of quitting, I regained the ability to smile and talk about things other than how crappy work was and found my current job in elementary, which was a little slice of heaven (or key lime pie) compared to where I had come from. As it so happened though, my quitting set off a series of unfortunate events whereby my old principal was ousted by the board. Although I had left on good terms with this principal- she had wished me happiness and promised to pray for me- when I tried to contact her later for a letter to waive a credential class, she hung up on me. When I called back, thinking that we had somehow gotten disconnected, I got the answering machine and left a detailed message with all my contact information. I never heard from her. Some might think that this is understandable, since she lost her job as an indirect result of my quitting, but it left me a little in a bind in terms of completing my credential.

So, I guess I didn't make it that brief. I hadn't thought about the story in a long time and the details seemed a little murky and came back as I talked about it. I told the story in the length of the two blocks that it took to walk past the school and it quickly receded into the folds of my memory.

Fast forward to this past Monday morning, during the phonics portion of my lesson. I glimpsed my principal bringing someone to my neighbor's classroom and a few minutes later, she brought her to mine. Who should this visitor be? None other than my former principal. Of course I got up and did the decent thing, said hello, made small talk, all the while thinking "Holy Shit!!!!!!! Is she applying to be principal here???!!!" (who will be principal at our school is still to be determined). I remained in a hidden state of shock as she sauntered out of the room and immediately emailed my friend Nick who worked at the same school last year and shared in the miserable experience, although he managed to finish off the year. "In what kind of sick and twisted world does this happen?! I feel very very bad for you. You clearly had some fucked up Karma coming your way," was his reply. Fucked up Karma, huh? I guess I should be keeping better track. I stayed quiet for a moment to see if I could detect any omniscient laughter from up above... "laugh it up, laugh it up," I thought... even I couldn't deny that the coincidence of it was darkly funny.

I began to think that I should pay closer attention to the coincidences in my life- was I just ignoring obvious signals. When I got to the gym after work, I took out all my clothes and realized that I only had one shoe. I started to get frustrated, but then I realized: "Maybe this is a sign from the universe that I need to gym shoes. Afterall, I have had these for three years..." So I walked myself to Nordstrom Rack down the street and bought a much needed spankin' brand new pair. Thanks universe.

Later that night, in the line at Trader Joes, I saw a girl entering the store in what looked to me to be the uniform at my former school... "Am I losing it?" I thought to myself.

I also thought about my printing class coincidence and remembered that I had started taking those classes as a relief from the stress at the Catholic school. It was a safe haven where I could forget about the girls and the 5 subjects that I had to plan for and go through the cycle of inking a plate, wetting and drying the paper, and rolling the two in perfect tension through the big printing press. Aaaaaaaah. Was this yet another confusing sign??

Part 3-

Tuesday during my phonics lesson, I catch sight of my former principal's head through the pod window going to observe a different neighbor. The effect on me was quite surprising. It was almost as if I had suddenly swallowed a hot pepper. I started feeling hot and short of breath- mini panick attack? Fortunately, I got it together by the time she stopped through my room again with our school's literacy coaches. We were playing a vocabulary game, my students were engaged, my classroom was in order... I had nothing to fear or be self-conscious about.

I approached one of the literacy coaches on Tuesday to casually ask about the visitor who had come two days in a row and what position she was applying for. "Literacy Coach.... but she decided today that she's not interested, because it's only a .5 position," was the response. "Oh, that's too bad," I said trying not to leap like a gazelle from relief and joy.

Now I can laugh. HA HA. I get the joke! I'm laughing with you, universe- that was a good one, I'll admit it. I nearly wet my pants a few times... you really had me going there... whewwwww. All these random coincidences that I was trying to attribute big meaning to and turns out it was all a big, fat joke....Well, I guess life is just a big fat joke to you, isn't it?? sheeesh..

I'll take it.

symbiosis

A few postings ago, I mentioned the burgeoning friendship between N. (who is in my class) and R., a third grader- two kids who could not be more unlike each other. Although N. expressed doubts about their friendship because R. says bad words, today, he reaffirmed his previous feelings when he announced, "That's my best fwend." Poor R. is severely overweight (300 lbs at 9 years of age) and N. is rail thin and has several body parts in constant movement at any given time. Today, at recess, a perfect symbiotic relationship was created between the two. It started when N. was put on the bench after his accidental confession of his having hit someone in the face.
"It was an accident!" he cried, "I didn't mean to hit L. I was trying to hit A." .... bench.

A few spaces away, R. also sat on the bench,though voluntarily, barely taking notice of N clutching his face in despair at having been benched. As I looked at R., struggling to get up from the bench, I decided to call N. over. I proposed to him that he take a walk with R. around the playground to cool off. I called R. over and said that N. needed a little comforting and he immediately rose to the occasion of helping his friend out. As they started on their walk around the yard, R. pulled out his folder of poetry (he is in a poetry "elective" in school) and had N., who needs practice with his reading, read them aloud to him. As they strolled, N. read the rhymes of Shel Silverstein, while R. looked on, correcting his mistakes and helping him read. Poetry in motion. Both of them were getting what they needed- symbiosis in action.

rotating deltoids

Here is an excerpt from M's Morning Journal:
(the prompt was: "What time do you wake up in the morning? What do you do before you get to school? Use the words first, next, then, also, and finally.")

"Today is Wednesday, May 2, 2007. I wake up at 6:30 am. First I do pushups. Then I do situps. Next I rotate my deltoids. Then I stretch my neck. Finally, I am ready for school."

This was illustrated with a stick figure half-an-inch tall with little bumps on his arms- his bulging stick figure muscles.

"You did a great job, M!" I exclaimed, but I'm not sure I conveyed to him how awesome his entry really was. "By the way, where are your deltoids?" I asked.
He pointed to his shoulders.
"Aaaaaaah," I said, smiling as I pictured M. going through a boot camp-like routine before coming to school.

awesome.