Year Four

'Twas the night before year four,
and all through the apartment,
nerves were running high,
excitement in every department.

Okay that's the best I could do with this fried brain of mine :)

Tomorrow is the FIRST DAY of school! Again! I thought this whole beginning-of-year thing would get easier as I get more practice, but no. With Brian and I both starting tomorrow, the Whartnaby household is just a leeeeeeettle up tight at the moment :) Along with the stress, though, always comes excitement and I just am so thankful for a chance to meet my kids and get to know who we all are as a class.

One big change, of course, is my move this year to Timothy Christian School. It's just a few miles from our place, so I'll no longer be weathering the tolls and long stretches in the car every day. I said goodbye to my kids at Calvin with lots of tears (on my part) on our last day in June (but you need to understand...they were the best class ever though!), and yet here I find myself in a place where God provides for me, where God allows me to occupy a space that uses my gifts and passions. He keeps allowing me to find joy and challenge in my work, something I don't take for granted. I am a fortunate girl. Here are a few pictures of my classroom; it's all set for tomorrow!

   

Overwhelmed

Today is the official first day of my summer! Last year, on the first day of my summer, I was exhausted and SO SO SO relieved to be done with the school year. If I recall it accurately, I scheduled a facial and massage for myself and then slept the rest of the day. I was worn down to the bone and could hardly make it to the end. I had my wedding to look forward to as well, so I really was itching for that checkout and last drive home. This year was different. This year I got to teach at Calvin Christian School in the community of South Holland, and it has been the best year of my life.

For one thing, the year is so much better because Brian is in it. Our first year of marriage together. I love living life with him, trusting him, learning from him, and growing with him through all the excitement and lulls of life. So he is a big factor in this year. Another thing happened, though, too. This was the year I found out that I was a good teacher. 

I said this to my kids and families gathered in my classroom on the last day of school, amid ridiculous sloppy tears (as per usual). I always I knew that I was passionate about kids, equality, and achievement. I knew I loved people and I knew that it challenged me immensely to help kids learn in all kinds of ways. But...I didn't know if I was good at it. In fact, I felt like I sucked at it. I was so weighed down in the muck of a broken system, overwhelmed with the responsibility of carrying my kids' burdens with them. My principal and coworkers, also passionate about kids and their achievement, had to bear way more than they should have been given, too. I couldn't handle the responsibility. I would cry and say to God all the time, "I can't do this on my own, so help me!" I loved my kids so much but never had a feeling that I was really good at this whole teaching gig. I didn't see my impact and felt defeated by the end of the year. As a school we would crawl our way to the last day of school. I felt like a total failure.

Then I went to Calvin. I figured I would give this teaching thing one more year, just to make sure. Then, something amazing happened: my kids showed up! They are kind, hilarious, outgoing, joyful, obedient, thoughtful, sensitive, talkative, brilliant, cooperative, and just all-around wonderful. Suddenly, I looked around and saw that all of the weight wasn't just on my shoulders. I stood with my coworkers, with my students' families, with my principal, with the local churches and we all took on this job of raising and teaching kids together. Of course it isn't a perfect system, but let me tell you, it's beautiful.  My kids grew together and ate up everything I had for them to learn. I could just feel the difference in the air. Our end of year tests confirmed what I saw in the classroom: that we had learned a lot together. The same kind of growth was going on all over the school too. I finally felt like I was a good fit for this teaching profession and I have my students to thank for it. They are such a special class of kids.

Now, for next year, I am leaving Calvin. Timothy Christian School, a school three miles from us where Brian also teaches, had an opening in second grade that I will be filling to be closer to home. The nearly 2 hours in the car each day was wearing on me, and it makes sense for where Brian and I will be in the future. I was overwhelmed at the prospect of leaving Calvin, my coworkers, and my kids. With the past few weeks though, it's been okay. It's been a bittersweet but good time of wrapping up the year and saying goodbye. There is a veteran teacher (who is so great!) taking my place. Calvin will continue to be awesome and grow as the family that it is. I'll be joining another great family, with a slightly different flavor, but still one that serves the same powerful and good God.    I am overwhelmed with the blessing of doors opened and faithful people that were put into my life this year.

As wonderful and sad and joyful and emotional as it was to say goodbye to my kids, I am looking forward to a little bit more peace. This will be my fourth classroom in four years of teaching, and the prospect of stability and routine sounds divine to my mind right now. A little less time in the car. A little more time with Brian. I'm looking forward to ending school years with a little bit less drama, because I want to find my spot and settle down. I am all done with tears because this past year has been so incredibly good. This was the year I discovered that I was good at teaching.

Do you know how it feels to discover what you're good at? Completely overwhelming. 

My Kids

Brian and I don't have kids. We don't plan to for a while at least. That conversation is a funny one to have when you're not ready to have kids yet (Well, when are you ever truly ready? Do you ever become ready? YOU GUYS I FEEL LIKE I WILL NEVER BE READY.). I'm all like "Uh, no kids on the horizon, right?" And Brian's all like, "Uh, yep. Let me know if and when you change your mind and I'll do the same." And I'm all like, "Great. Same page! Wanna go out to eat without having to book a babysitter?" **High five!!**

I went through a phase earlier this school year where I was so tired, so worn down, that I proclaimed to Brian every day on my return home from school that HOW COULD WE EVER HAVE KIDS? I HAVE 23 KIDS ALL DAY LONG AND I NEED A BREAK. WE ARE NEVER HAVING KIDS. He, being equally tired, was all good with my proclamation. We aren't so militantly against children now (hey the doldrums of January really get to a teacher's brain) but we really are toast by the end of the work day. How do you people do it? How do you manage the feelings, spiritual growth, academic goals, and social development of two dozen small humans all day and then have an ounce of patience left in you by the time you get home? How?

As long as my brain is wandering in this direction, what if we never did have kids? My mind freaks out: would my parents or Brian's parents be devastated? Would people judge me? Ack! All the silly insecurities that come with adulthood decisions seem to pile up if you let them. I've had random pangs of that guilt or the potential of letting people down and decided to ignore them. A perk of adulthood is that you get to make those decisions based on what works best for you, not on the obligations projected upon you by society. So I suppose that's the game plan for Brian and me at the moment. We don't have a timeline, or really even a set plan. We just know that the next best thing for us is to not have kids right now.

I was thinking of that next best thing, and having a time without having kids yet, because it allows me the energy, creativity, and opportunity to call my students "my kids." I love my kids. My kids are all different shades of skin, all different types of brains, and from all different types of families and churches. My kids love each other, mess up together, love to learn, and crack me up on the daily. If Brian and I one day decide to have kids, I hope they turn out to be true individuals, just like my kids now. I hope they like singing, dancing, clapping, and selfies just as much as my kids. I hope they love reading, building, and writing letters just like my kids. I hope they love Jesus, live kindly, and show a care and concern that says when you are hurting I am hurting too, just like my kids.

Sometimes I come home from school exhausted from helping to raise other people's children, but then I remember that they're partly mine too. As a teacher, you're constantly helping little people navigate the social transition between their home environment and a school environment and how to do that. It can be hard to help children translate what it means to share, encourage, compete, and grow together when they all come from different places themselves.

But you know what? The differences? And the rich diversity that happens when all 24 of us step into our classroom each day? That's what I love about my kids. I'm so glad God gave them to me.

 

Teacher Drama

I type these words to you from my couch. It is 10:05 in the morning. On a regular Friday, my kids would have already had 100 minutes of class time, read with partners, learned in a guided reading group, taken a spelling test, completed an end-of-week reading assessment, and would be currently getting their snow pants and jackets on for morning recess. As much as I wish every Friday could be as productive as that, this Friday I'm awfully glad to be typing on my couch.

Let me tell you about the psyche of a teacher during weeks with treacherous weather. You have a back-and-forth series of emotions strong enough to give you whiplash. This is kind of how it went for me this week:

1. On Sunday night the Husband casually mentions that it's going to be below zero on Wednesday this week. You get sudden flashbacks of two blissful cancelled school days from last year, which you spent making silly trips to Target for frivolous things with your roommates, watched 9.5 straight hours of television, read an entire book, followed a 30-minute youtube yoga video to feel like you'd actually done something productive, and never changed out of your pajamas. Sweet nostalgia fills your mind and you start to hope that maybe, just maybe, you'll be able to indulge your indulgent side again to start out this new year.

2. You proverbially slap yourself and snap out of it, remembering the plans you've made, the ready-and-waiting classroom that's full of learning materials, and the end of year goals your kids have to reach. HOW ARE THEY SUPPOSED TO GET BACK INTO THEIR ROUTINE WITHOUT A NORMAL SCHEDULE?! You start to actually want school to go as scheduled, no, you start to NEED school to go as scheduled. You have too much to do.

3. Monday and Tuesday go by, cold but not too cold, and you are into the swing of regular routines and procedures, you realize how much you missed your kids, and feel ultra productive after having two weeks off for Christmas break. You get observed. It goes well. You feel like Super Teacher and accomplish a million things, including a health screening for life insurance, making dinner, and running on the treadmill before going to bed at a responsible hour. You are very nice to the Husband.

4. At said responsible bedtime hour, the Husband reveals that his school is, in fact, cancelled for Wednesday due to cold temperatures. Your school, in fact, is not cancelled for Wednesday. You turn into a whiny child who feels entitled to days off of work for no reason. You may or may not cry a little. He is nice about not rubbing it in your face that he doesn't have to go in to work when you do.

5. You self-righteously say goodbye to the Husband the next morning and carry on with your school day, surrounded by vacant area schools, Calvin Christian School the lone reed in a sea of quitters. You call yourself and your students "tough" for coming to school against all odds, valuing education above all else, braving cold and winds and treacherous roads (side note: the roads aren't really that bad) for the sake of your children's minds. You scroll through Facebook and mercilessly judge everyone who stayed home from school today, knowing that you've accomplished so much more than most of America alongside of the smartest kids ever. You rub this in to the Husband just a little. You even go to a dentist's appointment to prove your valor.

6. You repeat this process for Thursday, the coldest day yet this week. Nothing can stop you. You are SO GLAD that we didn't cancel school and tell this to your coworkers.

7. While making copies during your prep period, you hear murmurs from the office of a potentially cancelled Friday due to bus issues. The prideful feelings of #5 and #6 melt and give way to a desperate desire to stay in your pajamas all day tomorrow. No official word of a closing comes before you leave for the day. The roads actually are that bad on the commute home and it takes over an hour to get there. You start to bitterly make dinner. You are not very nice at all to the Husband, who innocently asks how the day went. You are grumpy for the next few hours, inexplicably. You may or may not cry a little.

8. The call and group text goes out from your principal that Friday, is indeed, cancelled due to bus issues. You are a little embarrassed at how excited you are about bus issues. You are ashamed of being happy. You sheepishly tell the Husband that you have school cancelled Friday, knowing that he has a full day ahead of him. You stop being totally mean to the Husband, who is not in fact responsible for the weather or for school being closed or for school staying open.

9. You wake up on Friday at 8:30, after an additional three hours of glorious sleep. You come to your senses and realize you have not been so nice to the Husband this week. You send an apology text, offering to start his laundry today and buy him some beer as a peace offering. He responds with an "I love you" and you remember to stop blaming him for things like the weather. He doesn't rub it in that you were crabby. Not even a little. You promise him that you will be more mature in the future, then go to the couch and turn on Netflix.

In conclusion: Teachers like routine, but they love missing school. Also, Brian is the nicest husband.

The fruits of my laundry labor.  

 

Currently...

I was telling a veteran teacher the other day that I still totally ride the first-year-teacher-roller-coaster even though this is my third year of doing this gig. The beginning of the year is allllll jitters and nervous energy. Then, after the first fresh unit plans are over, the cold comes and I start to lose steam, get buried in the piles of grading, and feel the weariness of 5:00 alarm clocks. When stuff starts to feel like it's too much, I think it's a good time to take stock and remember all the good things. Because there are so many good things! Here we go...what I'm currently up to:

Loving: being married to a certain Brian Whartnaby. I got him a gift for Sweetest Day (and I take full responsibility for the obnoxious perpetuation of Hallmark holidays, but I found a great chambray shirt that would look great on Brian, so sue me) and included a Kit Kat bar in the gift bag. After being away in Michigan at a conference for two days, and spending 4 and a half hours in traffic in the effort to get home, I opened the door to our apartment to find a smiling guy, a big hug, and two of the four Kit Kat pieces saved in the wrapper for me. Ahhh. What a guy.

Reading: Gone Girl by Gillian Flynn. One of my biggest beefs with Veronica Roth (okay, so maybe she doesn't know that we have a fight going on, but I surely started one) was how she switched up the narrators, having Four and Tris alternate as the first person voice from chapter to chapter. In short, this was a terrible move. It sucked. I hate to even say this, but I didn't finish the book because I was so bored by it. So I find out that Gone Girl, while it's getting all of these great reviews, also does the whole switching voice thing, except this time it's awesome. The characters reveal little pieces of who they are, flawed and believable, and yet also unreliable, with their own versions of bias. I haven't finished it yet and am avoiding all talk of the movie and book on social media so I get to see for myself how these two actually turn out.

Watching: A lot of HBO. A perk of moving and signing up for a new subscription of cable and internet is that they throw free things at you. Like HBO! After a healthy stream of The Wire and Veep (I died every episode), and it's safe to say that Brian is absolutely addicted to The Sorpranos, I am currently watching Lena Dunham's show GIRLS. I'm somewhat wary of my admission of being its viewer. The inappropriateness is there, to say the least. I'm so drawn to it, and the characters in it, though, because it has so much to say about the hopes and talents and blind spots (oh the blind spots!) of my upcoming generation of millennials.

Anticipating: DO I EVEN HAVE TO SAY IT?! Taylor Swift's 1989 Album comes out on October 27 (THAT IS TOMORROW). It's a change in image for our girl Tay. No longer the country sweetheart, those curls have officially been straightened and the pop star look is embraced. But I have to have faith that deep down, it's our old favorite girl doing her happy, confident, truthful, thing. Did I just hear someone say "hella good hair?"

Listening To: Lin's Bin, every Monday and Friday morning at 7:15 a.m. (except sometimes I'm already in my classroom at that point and have to catch the rerun in the evening) on 93.1 WXRT. If you're in the Chicagoland, please give it a listen and laugh/cry along with me at the touching statements he makes answering the deep questions of life.

Planning: Little things to accomplish my 25 Before 26. (Go to September for that post, if you haven't seen it yet). I'm starting to wake up from the daze of beginning the school year at my new school, look at my life, and take stock of things. I'm taking suggestions for wineries, recipes, and good causes because I'm excited to roll up my sleeves and get started on it all!

Working On: Taking time to take care of myself. The past 10 weeks at my apartment have been all staring at laptops and 9:00 bedtimes for me. It's time to try new things and ideas and have a life outside of school. I've been thinking of the coming weeks and how I can get out of the doldrums of teaching in the post-beginning-of-year and pre-Thanksgiving fall. First step: yoga class :)

Wishing For: the Christmas season! I know that this holiday cheer is a little preemptive, but please let me explain the reason. My school's Bible curriculum actually aligns the birth of Jesus and all the stories leading up to it to be taught about eight weeks before Christmas arrives. I've already purchased a few Christmas gifts for my family and can't wait to pick out the others. It all makes me giddy for gold old fashioned family time, lazy snowy days spent giving presents, and attending advent services at our beautifully decorated church.  Advent season reminds me that God comes right into my messy life, the one in which I make no room for him, and changes me and remakes me and creates everything to be new again. Christmas reminds me that I am a believer in new beginnings, in hopeful horizons, and the shocking power of love to come down and change everything. That's the true story of Christmas and I love to hear it again and again.

What are you up to? What are you planning, wishing, and working for? It's hectic and hard over here, but it's all good.

Pig Trauma

My second graders and I (and 5 brave parent chaperones) went to a farm on Friday for the first field trip of the year. It was awesome and they loved it. I loved it too.

At one point, we were in the pig barn, learning about how pigs are cared for differently during different stages of life. At the end, we got to the piglet barn where tiny pigs were clamoring over one another to nurse from their (exhausted) mama pigs. It's never a guarantee that you'll get to see a baby being born, but we were lucky enough to be present for one. And if you have idyllic visions of Americana in your head when you think of the birth of a new farm animal, please think again. This is kinda how it went:

"MRS. WHARTNABY!! Okay that lady just put on a humungous rubber glove, smeared this gross sticky stuff all over her hand, reached in the mama pig, and PULLED OUT A BABY. It's all bloody and I DIDN'T KNOW IT WAS GOING TO BE LIKE THIS!"

Sorry, kids. Makes you hungry for some bacon, mmm?

On another note, here is a picture of two of the sweetest boys you will ever, ever meet.

A week.

Let's be honest, teaching 25 small humans contained to a room in 85 degree heat isn't exactly invigorating. The lack of air-conditioning is rough, people. That's a first world problem and I recognize that. But it's my blog, and all problems, legitimate and whiny alike, are allowed to be processed here. I just need to let you in on the hot mess that is my life.

It's been a week.

An exhausting week. I struggle to stay awake until Brian's home from supervising an extracurricular at his school, which ends at the dark hour of 9:00 pm. I used to mock my friend Karyn relentlessly in college for going to bed before 10. Now I'm wondering how I ever started a movie after 4 in the afternoon: how did I stay awake to see the ending? Brian comes home to a dazed and groggy wife, supremely proud of herself for barely staying coherent until 9:04 in the evening. Our life. It's riveting, people. 

It's been a week for my face, as well, as what used to be my spot treatment, specifically designed to powerfully target severe blemishes in small areas on your skin, started to be enlisted as a full-face treatment. I no longer dab, I smear. Bring on the chemicals! Full coverage time. Zap whatever you must! Wait...Benzoyl Peroxide? Peroxide? Doesn't that destroy the pigmentation in clothing and other textiles? Isn't that bleach? Well, if bleach on my face means that clearer skin is on it's way, then BLEACH IT IS! Amiright? Amiright? If you've also experienced the spot treatment turned whole-face treatment episode in your life, I'm currently standing in chemically saturated solidarity with you.

It's been a week for my brain. My eyes are blood-shot no matter how many eyedrops I use, but not because of any substance in my system as that condition often hints toward. It's just, you know, my organs telling me: We need more oxygen! Why do you mistreat us so? GO TO SLEEP EARLIER AND STAY ASLEEP LONGER! And yet those 5:15/5:21/5:32/5:45 alarms (by the way, if you make it to 5:45, get a hustle in your bustle!) aren't waiting for anybody anytime soon. And while the rest of humanity has come to grips with the harsh reality that working in the real world means waking up before 6:00, my nocturnal clock will never get used to life on this earth prior to 8:30 a.m...of this I am convinced.  I was in our Wal-Mart to buy my kids popsicles today at 6:15 (it's the only place open at that hour on my way to work) and the workers who take that shift instantly became my heroes. 

It's been a week for my head, as I so gracefully at that before-6-o-clock-hour-that-no-human-should-ever-see, was minding my own business, onto the conditioning step of my shower routine, when I turned to place the bottle back on the shelf and...BAM! Hit the MIDDLE OF MY FOREHEAD on a PORCELAIN SHELF FIXTURE IN OUR SHOWER. It hurt so bad. It left a big bump. It left a big bruise. This overly-self-conscious girl would have freaked out if it wasn't so early, but lo and behold, a benefit to being in a  I-should-definitely-not-be-awake-right-now early morning daze is apathy toward everything. So what did I do? I shrugged my shoulders and thanked God sincerely and wholeheartedly for bangs and their many uses, the latest of which I discovered in being the best tool available in covering up my idiocy to the world, both literally and figuratively. You think I pick this hairstyle because it's cute?! On the contrary. This bump on my head, as it turns out, also induced a crazy weird headache, so I now (thanks to Brian, that kind soul) have a lovely stash of Advil on my nightstand along with a water bottle.  I used to judge my mom for having headache stuff/water bottles/tissues out on her nightstand because I didn't think she was that old to need it that much. Now I'm thinking of adding my own lovely little Kleenex box to round out the trifecta. 24 never looked so good. 

And yet, it's been a good week. 

It's been a week of smiling kids, smarty pants readers, engaged mathematicians, excited scientists, and loving students in my life. I love my kids. They are so smart and thoughtful and funny and kind. They make me want to be a better teacher. And if that means the hot mess takes over my life, I guess that's what will have to be. 

So what have we learned in this lesson? 

1. Spot Concealer is our best friend.

2. Advil is also our best friend.

3. Bangs are our third best friends.

4. My second graders are the best. 

Class dismissed. 

Third Round

Hi friends!

That greeting sounds cheery, because I partly am, but I hope you also sensed a dash of nervous panic, because there's some of that going on in my voice too.

Tomorrow is the FIRST DAY OF SCHOOL. It is a special one to me. It is my third year in this teaching profession, something I never envisioned myself doing, say, 5 years ago, but am now so invested into it. God brings me to new places in the strangest and best of ways. I am at a new school, too.

This place, Calvin Christian School, only a month into working there, has become so special to me. It's a Christian school that doesn't run and hide from this world, but bravely stays put in its roots, making the ground where children meet and play and learn to be something I consider almost sacred. Real life is messy, and I think this place embraces that in this continual effort to make our way as Christians in a broken and beautiful world. I hope to contribute to it somehow, if only God will use me.

I'm honored to be a part of it all. 

The old building surely shows its age, but I love seeing the crazy dedication of my colleagues to transform it into a kid-friendly, inviting place. My room has been my second home these past weeks, hosting me for more waking hours than my apartment. It is ready for kids to come through the door and I have high hopes for it in the coming months. Check out some photos, and then come stop by to say hello to Mrs. Whartnaby if you can :)

A teacher friend gave this to me for my school year. I'm a sucker for a bunting. 

 

Crazytown

The end of year crazies set in well over a week ago here in first grade and dangit, that means time for some random activities to spice life up a bit! Below, you'll see pictures of some of the stuff I've had my kids do to shake up our life a tad in Room 25. You'll also see a picture of a pink paper mache bunny rabbit, but that was a gift that my kid Z gave me out of the blue. He said he made it in daycare. I said that it was one of the nicest things that anyone has ever given me. And it really is. So sweet.

Check out what we've been doing in Room 25. Shaving cream words, finger painting, and building our very own city out of cardboard boxes and whatever else was laying around. They've been doing a great job with it all! Anything to keep them having fun, me with my sanity intact, and all of us pushing forward to that last day of school. Just keep swimming...

The Week from H-E-Double-Hockey-Sticks

This week did me in. Please excuse the title of the post. Childhood Anna would have been slapped on the mouth for saying that one. My mother raised me better than to allude to that. But it was a rough, rough week on me, and I suppose one of the perks of adulthood is permission to write quasi-vulgar blog post titles.

In some cruel coincidence of the darkest of forces, our school's standardized testing week coincided with Teacher Depreciation, oops-I-meant Appreciation Week. 

The test, THE test, that our kids take in order to evaluate the teachers, happened this week. Can I tell you something that makes me sad? It makes me sad that six and seven-year-old children have the pressure and weight on their shoulders to perform on a computerized test for around forty-five minutes to gauge how well their teacher taught them for around 10 months. It makes me sad that in the last few months, I had to make decisions on what to teach my kids, not based on what I thought they would love to learn about or things I thought that six and seven-year-olds should know, but based on what will help them do well on this test. I was consistently put in a position of asking myself: Should I teach my class based on what's best for kids to learn? Or should I teach my class based on what's best for this test we have to take? More often than not, like most teachers, I settled for somewhere in the middle: I gave them tools to succeed on the test, hiding skills and supplementing here and there so they didn't feel the pressure of it. I couldn't live with myself and give in completely to test prep mode. It's an unfortunate situation we have put our teachers into, particularly our teachers in low-income communities. It's unfortunate that this situation also affects the students who need the most support in the most unfortunate ways. Ha. I say the word: unfortunate. As if it's unlucky, a random force over which we have no control. (Except that real people make decisions about these tests, teacher evaluation practices, curriculum choices, and support services for kids, every single day.) 

Yet here we were. Taking The Test. On Teacher Appreciation Week. That too, was tough. Each day I scrolled through pictures of my teacher friends who were rolling in gift cards from Chili's, trinkets, and handmade cards from their kids. It was a little different for me. No Chili's gift cards happened, I can tell you that. This week, one of my kids said he wanted to shoot me. I had a lot of attitude, rolling eyes, and defiance coming in my direction this week. 

I say this not to complain, but to make the one thing that happened on Friday all the sweeter. 

Here I thought: "This week is it. I am done. I can't come back on Monday, and I won't be able to come back the day after that. I just can't do it anymore." 

That's what God does, doesn't he? Right when you believe that you can't handle it anymore, he gives you grace. 

This Friday, after school, after Teacher Appreciation Week had technically expired, my grace came through a mother picking up her child, who handed me an envelope through the window. It wasn't accompanied by a gift card, a potted plant, or balloon. It was just a card, but it said this inside:

"Often teachers are unappreciated and not recognized for the work they do. Please know that not only do I appreciate you but thank you for all the work you've done with my child and all the other students you work with. You have encouraged her in so many ways and we're so blessed to have experienced your ability to help the mind grow. Teachers are blessings and thank you for being ours. The best statement you said to my daughter was, "I wish I had a classroom full of students like you." She loved that and will never forget it."

That was all I needed. In spite of feeling defeated and kicked while I was down, I know that one mother and one very sweet girl noticed and cared and are thankful that I'm in their lives. I know that one girl knows and will remember that she is smart. And that she is loved. 

And after a week from you-know-where, that was pretty great. 

I Stared at a Blank Wall Today

For 45 minutes.

Without thinking of anything at all.

To anyone who knows me very well, this is alarming, because it's pretty tough to turn off this ever-racing mind of mine. But I was by myself in my classroom today without a co-teacher, the week before MAP testing, with a bunch of restless munchkins. I felt like I was herding cats. Angry cats. Angry cats with pigtails. Hence the after-school-45-minute-no-thinking-or-speaking-wall-stare. 

But they aren't cats, they're children, and a few of them managed to sense my urgency and soften the blows of this job with some unsolicited hugs. I very much love unsolicited hugs. They are just the best.

After I snapped out of it, I managed to make myself dinner and get lost in a book for the next two hours. A great book and some hot chocolate are pretty good cure-alls. But the wall was there for me when I needed it, in all of its uncomplicated, eggshell white splendor. Best part about the wall? It didn't talk to me, or look at me, or need me to do anything for it. It just was. Just sitting there, so I could stare at it.

Thanks, wall. 'Til next time.

Mad Scientist

Last Friday the whole first grade went to the Museum of Science and Industry. If you're a teacher in Chicago, let me do you a favor and tell you to GO THERE. For Illinois residents it's free. Completely free. We had a blast touching gadgets, learning about weather, and playing with air pressure, wind, and simple machines. We sat in tractors, airplanes, and steered ships. It was such a good time. My group had some tough characters in it but they behaved like champs. 

I'm thinking we'll have to go on a field trip every Friday. Hmmmm. 

'

On Having a Thick Skin

Want to know one thing I've learned from this past year and a half in the classroom in Chicago? 

Well, I've learned more than one thing.

Obviously. 

But one thing that's on my mind lately has been a really big lesson. It's in bold letters on my mental "Things I Have Learned" list. 

I have learned that 1) You need a thick skin to survive this crazy world and 2) I will never have a thick enough skin to survive this crazy world and that 3) Maybe I'm okay with that. 

Let me explain. Someone very recently made a bold comment to me. It was a bold comment about me. It was particularly about my classroom. Now, let me tell you, I have been observed, critiqued, and evaluated so much in the last 18 months that I'm not sure many others can top this experience. I've been given feedback and reflected on my teaching practices until I turned blue. Those are fine and good things. I've had criticism of all kinds: rude, kind, exhaustive, unhelpful, thoughtful, constructive, and confusing alike. I don't mind criticism, in and of itself, when it comes to my teaching. In fact, most of the time I welcome it. Heck, most of the time I ASK for it. You have an idea that will make my classroom a better place for my kids? Let's hear it - because then I want to make that change now. I'm telling you that I've been through the ringer so that you understand, in a small way, the thick skin I have built up when it comes to taking criticism. 

Back to that bold comment. I was told by someone, in a professional setting, something that made me think of having a thick skin. I have a thick skin because if I let every heartbreaking story actually break my heart, I would cry all day and never get to the business of teaching. If every time a student walked in late without having eaten breakfast sent me down to the lunch ladies begging for extra food, then I would spend every day running the halls until 10:00 before we got to reading books or solving math problems. I've found that I need a thick skin to survive the day. But, really, when it comes down to it, I'm a big faker, because those heartbreaking stories actually do break my heart. I just have to become a great actor for them and keep on keeping on as best I can. But again, I digress. Back to the comment. 

The comment that was made to me had to do with a classroom observation. This individual overheard one student being rude to another while they were working independently. And this person asked me what I thought about students being mean to one another in my classroom. I responded by saying I model kind language and continually reinforce why we need to love one another, but six-year-old children who are sponges in a world where a lot of the words they hear on a daily basis are not nice, nor loving, will have a tendency to spit those back out in their own usage. Knowing that kids are mean to one another doesn't make me happy, in fact it does break my heart, but in the reality of their lives, I understand that it happens. No matter where you're from, you will hear children saying mean things to one another. Kids are mean sometimes. I hate it. But it is true. And I want to keep trying to change that. 

In response, I was told that I was making excuses for the behaviors described in my classroom. I was told that it was on me to control the language in my classroom. I was told that I don't believe in my kids. I was told that maybe I should consider my foundational beliefs in the work that I'm doing. 

Now. That thick skin. That thick skin that I have? The one that helps me brush off the craziness all around me so that I can keep on teaching? Keep pushing through? 

It's not thick enough for comments like that. 

To be told that I don't have a belief in my kids? To be told that I don't have a belief in the work I'm doing? 

I'll never have a skin thick enough for that. 

I kept a professional appearance and tone to finish the conversation, but as I walked away, learned that weird paradox about thick skin. I do have to have blinders on sometimes, just to keep us all moving ahead, looking forward, and learning more. I do state the realities of the harsh world that's left for my kids and look it in the face and show up to work every day and teach in that world anyway. But, at the same time, my heart does break every day. I do believe with all my heart in my kids. I am affected by every single story and hurtful word and missed breakfast. So when someone insinuates that I'm not grounded in some pretty passionate foundational beliefs, it tumbles me down completely. If only I had a thicker skin for comments like that. If only I could let that go and mindlessly move on to my next objective so that I can take on more responsibility and check my next box. 

Or maybe not. I don't want to be like that at all. I don't think I ever could. I don't think I'll ever be okay with anyone thinking I don't believe in my kids or believe in what I'm doing. 

So it's a funny thing, that thick skin. You can't survive without it. But your soul can't survive with it. 

Those Kids

I'm about to go on a small rant, because a few little words are bothering me lately. They're adjectives. Of the demonstrative variety. THESE and THOSE. Sometimes these two words serve as demonstrative pronouns, where they replace nouns. For example, instead of "Wow, the flowers are beautiful," one might say, "Wow, these are beautiful!" But sometimes "these" and "those" can be used as adjectives, as descriptors to nouns, as an add-on to help narrow down exactly what you're discussing. Instead of saying, "Look at the couples! They are dancing and having a great time," you might say, "Look at those couples! They are having a great time." You know, you're helping your audience understand a more specific cross-section of the whole to which you're referring. Add in these and those, the ever-helpful demonstrative adjectives, and you help people figure out exactly whom you're talking about. But I digress.

All of this is just grammar. I was an English major, after all, and most people don't care about all of that anyway. What's the point?

It's not that I'm against demonstratives. They've never done anything to me. It's not their fault. These and those are just as good as any, so I can't really say it's the words with whom I am peeved. It's the people who use them. And, in my opinion, misuse them.

It's odd, because the demonstrative adjectives, THESE and THOSE, are being unnecessarily attached to some humans (who are near and dear to my heart) on a daily basis. I'm finding more and more, especially now that my radar is buzzing for it, that people are using THESE and THOSE for some very special people. For my kids. My class of first grade kids.

Last fall, someone said to me, "Well, teaching at your school, with THESE kids, it's almost like babysitting instead of teaching."

Right before Christmas break, I went to a day-long workshop and was learning alongside teachers from all over the Chicago area. It was centering around how to run and organize the behavior management in your classroom. When I asked a question about a hypothetical interaction with a misbehaving six-year-old, the presenter asked where I taught and the nature of my school. She replied, saying, "Well, I believe this will work for most kids, but THOSE kids especially need boundaries clearly set."

During Christmas break, a well-meaning friend said, "Anna, I can't believe you're still teaching THOSE kids."

Last week, during my grad class, my professor said, "Well with the type of neighborhoods that THESE kids come from, you never know what you're going to get."

Finally, a few days ago, I overheard a fellow teacher (not from my school) saying "THESE kids are just too difficult."

Now I'm not saying my students don't need clear boundaries, or that sometimes it's not overwhelming to be their teacher, or that their neighborhoods are perfect. But I guess I want to call some people out on their grammar. Why THESE? Why THOSE?

Why words specifically chosen to call out a small group from the whole? Why do I never hear about kids from Winnekta being referred to as THESE kids? What do you mean by THESE kids and THOSE kids anyway? Do you mean naughty kids? Poor kids? Chicago kids? Black kids?

The problem, I guess, is that by attaching the THESE and THOSE labels to my students, you'd never think about B, who is reading at nearly a 3rd grade level, comes from a loving family, and asks me at the end of each day if she can "please Ms. Gesch just keep learning because I want to learn all day."

You'd never think of M, who has gone from not knowing the alphabet in August to picking up books and reading the words in them by December.

B and M and all the others aren't THOSE kids. They're MY kids.

THESE and THOSE cut out all the humanity from your brain and cause you to jump to a label instead. I'm not saying I've never in my life fallen into this mindset before, I'm just more sensitive to it now that I know and love my students. I am, however, saying it's time we start choosing words more mindfully.

I have an idea. And once I share this idea, I'll lay off the grammar and stop being so picky, I promise.

Maybe instead of talking about THESE kids and THOSE kids, we could start talking about OUR kids. When we're talking about the challenges facing education, and the topic of  kids ceases to be those, and starts to become ours instead, that's when the conversation is starting to go in the right direction.

Because OUR kids deserve better from us. 

The Search

These days I'm steeped in research.

Ever since joining Teach For America and starting this crazy ride of teaching in urban education, I've been bombarded with the research. The research on poverty. The research on racial systemic injustice. The research on boys and girls and who learns better in traditional public schools and who is favored in science class. The research on college readiness exams. The research on being ready for second grade. The research on unlimited varieties in curriculum and why certain ones are better than others. The research on phonics. The research on higher-order thinking. The research on vocabulary acquisition. The research on rewarding kids for success and moving towards intrinsic motivation. The research on character development and social-emotional learning. And a lot more.

In the past two years I've read countless articles, about 10 books, and a lot more blogs on what it means to be in this tough but important work of serving in low-income schools and the children in my community.

And with all that, I've still got so much to learn, so much to know, and so much more to understand.

I still can't wrap my mind around what it is going to take to work with people in my school's communities and others like it in order to have a holistic and healthy renewal of poverty-ridden areas so that children everywhere can grow up to be who they were meant to be; so that places like the West Side of Chicago can be places of hope, fairness, and life. There is so much that goes into an effort like that, and I am made aware every day that it needs to be an all-hands-on-deck approach: no single white girl driving down from Wisconsin is going to change anything unless she is working with all kinds of other people who are working for the same things, teaching her so many things in the process. But.

But. But. In all of the research, in all of the social programs, in all of the new ideas and curricula, there seems to be something missing. Something that I have a hard time articulating, but something that I know in my guts has to be there for anything good to happen or anything new to grow.

Here's what I mean. One Thursday night, during grad class last spring, we had a guest speaker come in to talk about social-emotional learning. She was promoting a curriculum that she has used and helped develop and was now pitching to us young teachers. Don't get me wrong, it was a good curriculum I am sure, complete with group problem-solving and peace-keeping strategies, as well as activities to practice and foster a sense of kindness and community. Her curriculum was, of course, backed by all the research in the world. During her talk, I made a note of some of her quotes that particularly struck a chord with me:

"Teach all the math and reading that you want, but we've gotta change what's going on on the inside if we want any actual change for our students."

"I'm educating my kids for life. I'd lose a few points on those standardized test scores if it meant making time for social-emotional learning."

"This kind of stuff is what matters in marriages and families and workplaces and life."

And as I read those quotes over again, I am struck again with how much I agree. Recently I just finished reading a book called "How Children Succeed," by Paul Tough that I really loved. It spoke to the skills that most successful children have in common. Surprisingly, it's not their high test scores or exemplary IQ. It is their character: their grit, curiosity, social awareness, and integrity. So teachers, leaders, and parents should all be working to teach and develop those skills in our children. And again, I was struck with how much I agree. It was completely research-based, of course, with study after study across multiple disciplines backing his supposition.

But. Again, I felt, for some reason, that all of this is research missing something. The research is, for certain, searching for something. I like the word research and its prefix "re" for the simple fact that it could mean to search again. We know that the word implies that someone is searching systematically for an answer. And all of this research in the educational and social and political world in which I exist is looking for something to answer all of our issues, all of our challenges, and all of our struggles. What is the answer? How do we help people? How do we help kids? Every year or month or even day, it can seem, the newest and latest thing comes out from the newest and latest research. A new answer to our problems. A new solution for the ills of the West Side. And while they are all very positive and even often have results and data to back up their success, there is one side that is left out.

For all of their searching and researching and searching again, I think the scientists, sociologists, and educators are missing something very important about children, and for that matter, about people in general. I wonder if they consider that a child is someone who is more than just a human, physically here with physical needs, and a physical brain that needs to understand how to achieve character and academic growth and adequate test scores so that they can maneuver about their social environment to make their own way forward. I wonder about the idea that a student has a soul, a spiritual side, that needs to be cared for; I wonder about how people expect to "change what's going on on the inside," as that well-meaning guest speaker purported to do. Is it we teachers who really change what's going on on the inside, the deep-down inside? Am I the one with the ultimate ability to heal the spiritual and emotional traumas of my children?

Or is there another answer for which we are searching? Is there another way to which I can point that fills in the missing piece to the puzzle of helping and working with low-income communities? Is there a possibility that the cycles and roundabouts of finding new and good ways to serve kids are missing something in their important search? Every day that I spend with my kids gives me the conviction that there is, indeed, more to it when it comes to children. When it comes to people. When it comes to our world. My kids, to me, are living proof that there is a never-ending depth and mystery to the meaning of what it means to be human, of what it means to have a soul. The research is well-meaning and even effective and helpful. But the search that should be taken up on behalf of my kids' souls must be addressed. It has to be. I guess all of this doesn't mean that I have an answer.

But I might have an idea of where to look for one. The search always leads me there, leads me to the same place, leads me to the very start where my hope and love and faith began. I wonder if the search will ever end. I don't know that it will. But I'm gaining conviction that I know exactly where The Search needs to start.

Oh Snap! ple.

So many apple-y things are happening in first grade. I've had more fun this year with really hitting home fun activities around more thematic ideas. So, of course, it is apple mania lately in Room 25. We made an apple bar graph, made an apple book, ate apples and charted our favorite apple color, wrote everything we knew about apples, use apples in word problems, learned apple poems, and read apple books. It's only fitting that last Friday we went to an apple orchard. It was a blast.

Going out to the apple trees

We went to County Line Orchard in Hobart, Indiana. My kids boarded the bus amongst tall buildings and concrete, and got off of the bus with wide eyes at trees, fields, and blue skies. We got a tour of how honeybees help grow the apples, how the apples are sorted and cleaned, and finally hopped on a wagon that took us out to pick our own apples. Each kid got a bag full and had a blast running around the trees. We went back, ate lunch outside at picnic tables, and ended our day at a farm and play area where we could watch ducks, pet goats, and climb on each other (the last part of the list was not supposed to happen, but it did). It was cute. I hate being that teacher who gets overly sentimental at her children, but for all of the planning, herding, wrangling, and directing they made me do, it was totally worth it to see my kids out and about in the fresh air.  This year will be the year of field trips, let me tell you what.

This is K, asleep on my lap. Knocked out. Being 6 is exhausting. 

Spaghetti Brain

I forgot to turn the washer on.

I was hungry and I had no food except a box of macaroni and cheese and I had Teach For America deliverables due tonight and I had to watch video tutorials on my vision statement and I had to do 60 pages of reading and annotating for my grad class tomorrow night and my principal asked for data on my struggling student by tomorrow morning and I accidentally left half of the math tests I had to grade at school on my desk and I had to call the apple orchard because our numbers aren't the same as our confirmation letter and I had to plan small groups and pair my kids into reading buddies based on their levels and my mom called to chat and I had to wait on hold for 25 minutes to track down missing concert tickets from UPS for Friday night and my roommate had an interesting weekend to tell me about and my stupid computer won't load the Americorps webpage so I'm in trouble with Dominican University and I have one new follower on twitter and I have to empty the dishwasher and I have to pack a lunch for tomorrow and I have an early staff meeting to prepare for and I put my dirty laundry in the washer at 5:30 and I forgot to turn the washer on. 

That is one big, bad, run-on sentence. 

It's 9:00 now. That was over three hours ago, and the washer is still not going. This is one of those nights, when the juggling act of being the human being named Anna Gesch is sometimes too hard for me to do. Just too hard to do. Teach For America, Dominican University, and the LEARN Charter School, while all great institutions in their own right, have on this evening, September 4th, 2013, combined all of their bureaucratic power to load down my brain with obligations and flaming hoops such that I am now sitting on my couch, unable to do anything. Completely paralyzed. A few hours later, it has happened. 

My brain has turned to spaghetti. 

Buon appetito, working world, adulthood, and night school. Tonight, you've eaten me alive.

But just for tonight. 

I'm going to sleep.  

Stuff Students Say: August (First Grade Edition!)

We are a full month into the school year and here are the best quotes of the last five weeks. I hope they help you enjoy the last few hours of a Monday off from work. I mean, is there anything better than getting to stay at home on a Monday? The only thing I can think of is to stay at home on a Monday AND get to read funny quotes from six-year-old kids.

Ms. Gesch your kind of face is my favorite kind of face of all the faces.

(The following conversation took place on August 1.)
Ms. Gesch I'm so excited for my birthday coming up soon!
Me: When is it?
November 22. 

Is it spring break tomorrow?
(Also stated on August 1.)

On why she was misbehaving...
I can be a leader, but it's just that sometimes I have a problem attitude.

Look at my fuzzy backpack. It's nice and soft. Like a dead bird.

You got a lot of freckles Ms. Gesch. Do birds come and peck at them because they think they sprinkles on your face?! 

He called me a crybaby!!
Me: Why would you think he might have called you that? Do you think it might be because you cry a lot?
Well yeah I cry every day but I ain't no baby. 

(We were learning the months of the year, and I was trying to get them to realize that they actually already know the name of the month they were born in because they know their birth date.) 

Me: My birthday is September 14 so the month my birthday is in is September. When is your birthday?

July 10.

Me: So then what month is your birthday in? 

Waterpark. 

If you tell my daddy that I was good I get a ice cream cone. Can you just do that for me? 

Incidentally

I had a really good day at school today. Which is good, because yesterday had me thinking I should throw in the towel altogether. Isn't it funny how life can swing back and forth like that? My math lesson went well, my kids were generally kinder today toward one another, and we packed up for dismissal without any problems. Let me tell you: that was an accomplishment. Because if you think it's easy to pack up 23 6-year-olds without a hitch, you're delusional. But when I got home, after I sorted the mail and dropped my stuff on the floor with a thud, I sat and stared at the wall. Because even though it was a good day, it didn't feel like a good day.

It didn't feel like a good day because there was an incident.

An incident, of course, means that something happened with a weapon, violence, or the gangs near my school. An incident means that something unsafe just happened and now you need to react. Today's particular incident involved passersby carrying a firearm near our older elementary kids on the playground and asking them to look at it and take it from them. A ten-year-old was asked to take a gun and shoot it today. During his recess. That's the world we are living in. That's the Chicago we are living in. 

When you hear that there's been an incident as a teacher in my school, you kind of just shut up, listen to directions for contingency plans that you need to know right now (dismissal locations, Gym/Recess schedules, and other logistics), and go read your email or meet with the administration at the end of the day to get the more descriptive details after the fact and after everyone is safely home with whomever picked them up from school. It's happened more often than once in the last year, and it's even happened more often than twice in the last year. For the sake of my parents and other people who worry about me and where I work in the city, I'm going to leave it at that for the count of incidents around which I've had to maneuver my class of children. Today this incident meant that my kids had Gym in the classroom instead of walking down the street to the big space where we usually go. There are only so many running in place games, jumping jacks next to your desk games, and rounds of "heads-up-7-up" you can play with kids before they get to the point where they just need to go run around in a big space. But, because of the incident, it was the safe decision to have Gym in a classroom. And I'm thankful for my awesome principal and co-workers who keep it together in the midst of chaos for the sake of my kids. 

It's odd to me, though, that we call these things incidents. I naturally think of the words "incidental" and "incidentally" when I think of the word "incident." "Incidentally" means that something happened by chance or a random occurrence. You know, you might incidentally run into an old friend in the frozen pizza aisle one day. You might incidentally trip on the sidewalk and scuff the side of your new shoes. You might incidentally catch that you have a virus or infection on a routine checkup at the doctor. But these incidents at my school are far from incidental. They're not chance. They're not random. They're not happenstance.

These incidents are symptoms of the growing beast that lives in the poorest neighborhoods of a powerhouse city, the beast that gains momentum every time a kid loses his or her right to just be a kid. These incidents are not incidents at all, but real stories of the patterns of violence and injustice that continue to make the act of growing up and achieving your goals and becoming something new increasingly difficult for kids like mine. 

No one will hear about this incident on the news tonight. No one will read about it in the paper tomorrow. To most, it's either something you shake your head at or worse...just something that's happened...incidentally. Oops! Bummer! Another weapon incident on the West Side! Change the channel. When will this stuff start to really matter to us?

You know what's the oddest thing of all? This incident happened in the same exact spot where, exactly 24 hours earlier, there was an Anti-Violence Rally where teenagers and community leaders spoke out about keeping the peace in East Garfield Park. I suppose one could say that the rally and the subsequent day's events, so closely related and also contrasted, happened...incidentally? 

I, for one, do not even believe in the term "incidentally" at all. I believe that things happen because something or someone causes them; things don't just happen. Chance doesn't cause things. People, both broken and also redeemable in the most confusing and wonderful of ways, cause things. We cause things. And when we cause things, they are for good or for harm. We need more people to decide to cause good to happen. Even when I'm not capable of causing good to happen on my own (because believe me, I mostly just mess things up), I have to rely on the One who can make it happen for me and through me in my life. We all have to. No more incidental incidents happening incidentally. It seems to me like it's time for us to stop pretending that things happen by chance in Chicago and to start causing things to happen in Chicago instead. For good.

Until then, my kids will be living, as 6-year-old kids on the playground, from incident to incident. 

My Second First

Well people, my first day of teaching for this school year is TOMORROW. Yes, TOMORROW. August 1st. I'll bet you're thinking to yourself, "Hey wait, Anna, I thought you just finished teaching last year like four weeks ago!" And to that I would reply, "YOU'RE PAINFULLY CORRECT." Okay, enough of me whining about the fact that my summer vacation is only four weeks long. The point is this: the new school year is starting! I have a few updates for you because so much has happened to my teaching career in the last two weeks.

Room 25. Tomorrow, the lights go on and kids stream in.

The main one? Are you ready for this? I will no longer be teaching second grade. This year I'll be teaching a class of 28 first graders! So while this is definitely my second year, it will in reality be another first, as I learn the curriculum content, developmental levels, and social needs of a 6-year-old kid. As I'm reading into it, it's actually a big difference between 2nd and 1st grade. Having said that, I met a few of them today and yesterday and they are so cute. They're babies. Like literally don't have enough self-control to sit in a chair. Or sit on a carpet. Or sit at all, really.

I'm also getting a new teaching partner in my classroom this year, and I am already a big fan. She has 5 years of experience at our school, so she already knows lots of the families. She truly loves the kids and has pretty strict discipline at the same time. That's what I like to see. Although I will dearly miss my co-teacher from last year (I would not have survived without her), I am feeling really good about my new one already.

I'm a strong advocate for child labor. 

Read, read, read. 

In case you want to know what we do all day. 

I'm feeling so many things on this night before the first day. I'm feeling denial, as I really can't believe that I'm in charge of a new batch of children again. I'm feeling nervousness, because the chaos, noise, and energy that happens in the primary grades of our school is kind of overwhelming when you're not used to it. I'm feeling excitement, for all the work I've already put into our classroom and the things we can accomplish together there. I'm feeling tired, as the 10+ hour work days are starting up again. I'm feeling happy, that the beginning of a new year means that I have a job doing meaningful work with one-of-a-kind children. I'm also feeling hungry, because the grocery list has not been attended to in all of the scramble to get ready. For now, I think I'll go to sleep. If you think of it, start praying for me at 8:00 am tomorrow. Then don't stop doing so until 4:00 pm. (Come to think of it, you can go ahead and repeat that daily process until June 19th.)

Stay tuned for the FIRST GRADE adventures in Room 25. Here we go!