Blogging and Teaching

When I came home today Lee asked me if I had heard about the teacher who was on paid leave from her school for things she said about her students on her blog.  I panicked a little and told him, no, I hadn't heard about her, but that I was going to seek out more information.

As someone who always blogs about her students, it's a little unsettling to hear that another educator is being punished for doing the same.  I was seriously worried, and I found an article on cnn.com that gave a brief explanation of what all the drama is about: cnn.com article

So in an effort to deter some of the heat her blog has since been blocked, but being that it is the internet, the entries have been cached and the posts are still available.  She went on the Today Show this morning in an effort to defend her position.  She claims that the blog was only intended for her friends and, "taken out of context."

I'm all about free speech and, quite clearly, I'm all about sharing stories about my students, so I was a little put off that someone could be persecuted for what they say about their students in a personal blog.  That is, until I read some of her cached posts.

Please read the following post here:Crazy Lady Posts About Students
(The rants about her students start after the asterisk divider)

I'm in complete shock.  I just read her post out loud to Lee and he is in shock.  How in the world can she try and defend what she said?  She is a TERRIBLE person, to say nothing of her interaction with children, and that became evident after reading just ONE of her blog posts.  Seriously, I'm sick. Why in the world did this lady become a teacher?  Of course students are going to give you attitude, especially kids in high school, and ESPECIALLY if you treat them like you hate them.

Every teacher has moments of frustration.  It is inevitable. Teaching isn't easy, and kids are unpredictable. As far as I know, this information is not a secret, and hasn't been for awhile. 

My heart aches for her students.

I Love Teaching

I had to spend all day in a meeting at work. I hate leaving my kids with subs; I feel like I'm abandoning them, and it doesn't help that if I do have to sneak into my room to grab something they all swarm me and grab my legs and cry, "DON'T LEAVE US!  WHY DO YOU HAVE MEETINGS!?  CAN I GO TO THE BATHROOM?"

What's even worse is that today was the 100th Day of School, the veritable Mardi Gras of Kindergarten, and I had to miss it.  I knew ahead of time that I wouldn't be with the class for the big celebration, so we made our 100 Day snacks yesterday (which consist of 10 pieces of 10 different snacks in one baggie. Get it? 100 pieces of snack!) and I saved their snacks for today, when they would make their 100 Day Crowns and have their 100 Day snacks without me.

As I walked back to my classroom after the meeting I passed one of my students leaving with her mom. "I left you a note about the day on your desk!" she told me. When I checked my desk this is what I found:

My job is freaking awesome.

Adventures in Dirty Underwear

When one signs on to be a Kindergarten teacher there are many things that are not outlined in the job description.  A Kindergarten teacher has to be a therapist, a social worker, a parent, a professional singer, make good hand-puppets, be able to "take her thumb off" and, sometimes, if no one is throwing a tantrum, teach.  Also, check underwear for poop.  Oh, did you catch that last one?  That's right, I said CHECK UNDERWEAR FOR POOP.

Today when one of my students was in the bathroom he started screaming from within the stall, "Teacher. Teacher!"  While this would alarm most people, I didn't bat an eye, as this particular student ALWAYS screams my name from the bathroom stall because he is not able to snap the button on his pants.  It is my job to snap the snap, but definitely his job to put on his belt, as he reminds me every time I come to do the snapping, "Teacher, you do the snap, I do the belt!"  Right, got it.

So while the cries for help from inside the bathroom stall were not out of the ordinary, today's screech seemed slightly more desperate.  He was SCREAMING, "TEACHER!!!! TEACHER!!!!!!!!"   Not wanting to keep the snap un-snapped for more time than was necessary, I went into the bathroom and attempted to open the stall door.  It was locked.

Knock, knock, knock...
Me: "Um, Johnny*" (*name changed to shield this child from possible future embarrassment).
Johnny: "Who is it?"
Me: "Well, it's me, Maestra Robin.  You were screaming my name.  Do you need me to snap your pants?"
Johnny: "No. I think I went ca-ca in my pants.  But my mommy taught me how to wipe myself."
Me: "Great, I'm glad you know how to wipe yourse- wait...did you poop your pants?"
Johnny: "I don't know.  I can't see."
Me: "Why can't you see?"
Johnny: "Because they're stuck."
Me: "What's stuck?"
Johnny: "My underwear."

I did some quick mental math and realized what the stuck-ness of the underwear added up to, so I said,

"Yeah, it sounds like you had an accident."
Johnny: "Can you check?"
Me: sigh..."Yes.  But you're going to need to unlock the door."
Johnny: "OK, but don't open it all the way because I don't want the kids to SEE me."

So I squeezed my head and one arm through the tiniest sliver of a crack in the stall door to investigate just what was going on.  Upon further "inspection" it was determined that Johnny had, in fact, "went ca-ca in his pants."

Me: "Yes, you do have some poop in there."
Johnny (who has started to cry): "Oh no.  Am I in trouble?"
Me: "No!  It was an accident, it's OK.  Stay in here, I'm going to get you new underwear."
Johnny (Who stops crying, suddenly very excited): "Are you going to my house?!"
Me: "No, we have extra underwear in the office.  I'm going to call Sandy so she can bring them over."
Johnny: "Ok, but do they have super heroes on them?  Because I like super heroes."
Me: "I'm not sure.  I'll make sure to ask."

Five minutes later our school counselor (who is wonderful!) appears with a new pair of boxers, apologizing because it is the only thing the office currently has in the way of loaner underpants.  I assured her that it was fine, and she presented the brand new threads to Johnny.

Johnny:"Hey, THOSE aren't underwear!"
Me: "Yes, these are underwear."
Johnny: "NO!  Those don't have super heroes!  They are big!"
Me: "This is a different kind of underwear.  They don't have super heroes, but they are still underwear.  They are called boxers."
Johnny: "HEY!  I know about those!"
Me: "Great, well go ahead and put these on."

So our school counselor helped Johnny change into the new non-super hero boxers while I hurried all of the other kids into their coats and back-packs to go home (because, of course, an incident like this would occur right as the parents are about to show up to pick up their children).

When Johnny's mother arrived to get him I presented her with the old underwear wrapped carefully in a plastic bag, while Johnny danced around behind me and periodically grabbed his crotch crying, "Mommy, I LOVE boxers!  It's OK if they don't have super heroes!  I went ca-ca in my pants!  Am I in trouble?  Was I good today, teacher?  Can I play computer tomorrow?"

So, yeah, that was Wednesday.

Red Ribbon Week/ How to Talk to Five Year Olds About Drugs

It is Red Ribbon Week at my school. Red Ribbon Week is an anti-drug campaign that aims at promoting a drug-free life style to school children.  Everyone in the school participates by decorating their classroom door with something red, and taking part in spirit day throughout the week.

Today I had the task of explaining to a group of 5 year olds (half of them, in their second language) all about Red Ribbon Week.  First I was asked, "Why do we have to wear red?"  I tried to explain that the color red is reminding everyone that we are never going to use drugs.  That seemed to go okay, so we moved onto what drugs actually are and why shouldn't use them.  I did my best to give a stellar explanation, which included a pantomime smoking routine, and then I asked some follow up questions to check for understanding.  The answers are as follows:

"Why shouldn't we do drugs?"

"We will die."

"We will throw up then die."

"We won't breathe anymore."

"Because we are wearing red."

"What is a drug?"

"Smoking is a drug!"

"Kids drinking beer is a drug!"

"Cucumbers are drugs!"

This lady may be an addict.

So, the conversation went exactly as I expected.

If You are a Teacher...

then you should watch this video.  It is DEAD on.

Seinfeld Teaches History

I laughed so hard.

We Went to Halloween

Yes, so Pumpkin Farm, Round Two.

Explaining to a group of students that don't understand a word you say that we are going on a field trip to the pumpkin patch is HILARIOUS.  One kid shouted out, "We're going to Halloween?!!?!" Which was close enough, so I told him yes.

The day really was so so great!  All of the kids were incredibly well behaved, the bus was on time, the Pumpkin Farm is really well organized, and I had some awesome adults (including Lee's mom!) helping me out.

 Christi was great at making sure no one fell out of the hayride. 

 The ride was so beautiful.

 Near the end of our trip I told the students it was time to pick out pumpkins.   When I was little (yesterday) I used to spend a ridiculous amount of time looking over every pumpkin in order to locate the most perfect one.  The Pumpkin Farm is equipped with about a million pumpkins, and I wanted to make sure we made it back to school before dark so I set a time limit.  I told them they had exactly six minutes to choose a pumpkin.  I thought I was so clever, making sure those kids didn't spend hours scouring the patch, and, just like always, they made all my plans for not.  When I said, "You have six minutes...go!" They all bent over and grabbed the nearest pumpkin, then swarmed towards me like sharks to raw meat because I was the one holding the sharpie that would write their names on the pumpkins, making them theirs forever.

 Christi caught some of the swarm on camera.

 Yeah, I like to wear my backpacks in the front.

Way to go guys.  

Now it's time for juice.