Back to School for Teachers Too

As a fourth grade teacher, the students who greet you at the beginning of the year seem especially small. As my buddy tells me, it’s because they’re really still 3^rd graders. 

They’re mostly scared and cute and you look at them and immediately love them, just like a parent, because in a certain way they are yours: at least for the year.  Sometimes, like a parent, there’s an urge to play with them and be silly, but you can’t because they will spend the year walking all over you.  They will rip you up into fine, little pieces and they will build a paper maché chandelier and make you hang from it and your weight will make the chandelier fall and you will plummet to your death. 

(instead of 'welcome to our class!,' you'll be tempted to post this on your door--)

It’s a very fine line.  Letting them know they are safe and loved, and letting them know you’re in charge and that you’re sorry, but there will be no paper maché in class. 

They largely come from families who are very different from, perhaps, many of the people who may read this blog.  These students’ families are often poor and unstructured with little or no rules to follow and sometimes no good role model.   It’s not an easy transition for them to go back into the classroom where there are Expectations, and it’s exhausting for the teacher to orchestrate the way things need to Be.

This week, I asked my students to write in their journals about whatever it is they wanted me to know about them.  I went to great lengths to tell them it could be anything—it didn’t have to be too “personal.”  They could tell me about their favorite book or the people in their family or their favorite subject or whatever.   The only requirement was that they had to write at least seven sentences. 

What I got was both interesting and not interesting.  One child wants me to know that he likes coffee cake.  It took one sentence.  Another student listed all of her favorite colors (her favorite is salmon?).   Somehow she stretched it out to make enough boring and short sentences.  She included all kinds of information about colors she sort-of likes, the ones she doesn’t very much like, and the ones she doesn’t at All.  

(where the h is salmon?)

This poor child has no idea what a margin is, what necessitates a capital letter, or that there is a little mark that needs to come at the end of a sentence.  (Of course the worst part being that this information should really have come from a kinder student and not a fourth grader.)

Again this year, I have the students who like to share with me their love for Justin Bieber, the ones who need me to know that their favorite sport is soccer, the immense love they have for their family, their fear of flunking, and their wish to be a Famous (Whatever).   Most of their spelling, punctuation, and grammar are well below grade-level.  Worse than that, however, is that I also, predictably, have the student who immediately notifies me that I need to call the Department of Child and Family because what she writes in her journal is simply Outrageous. 

And so begins another school year.  There is much work to be done.  Whether we teachers can do it or not, most of us are grateful for the opportunity to try to Help.   It’s why we chose to do this.  We have a year to do the best we can with the kids they handed to us, pass them on, and cross our fingers that their lives are good ones.   

To my teacher friends: have a good year!  

Retail Shopping

Dear Retail/ Customer Service Person—

You’re bored.  The economy sucks and despite the “Everything on Sale!” sign outside your door, there’re not a lot of people around to relieve your anxiety about the impending loss of your job if Things don’t Pick Up.   To you, anyone who steps foot inside Gap is Fresh Meat, even if they’re just strolling in to inquire about a potential bathroom. 

(but we're not in a depression?)

Thing is, you get too excited.  Too Eagar to ask how people are.  This enthusiasm is scary and, even on a good day, I could never match your excitement.  I’ll try to mumble an audible “fine,” but do me a favor.  Please don’t follow me around.  I’m really not going to steal anything.  Most people have a story about when they were little and stole a stick of gum.  I don’t have that story.

I know I look suspect, averting your eyes and not smiling back at your big-toothed Hello!    It’s just that I don’t want to engage. It’s not you—it’s me.  You see, I’m walking straight (ha) for the things On Sale in the Men’s Department.  

I don’t need your help and I’m not in the mood for judgment.   I’m looking for something cheap and somewhat feminine in the Men’s Department.  Very cheap and not real feminine in the Men’s department.  I don’t think you can help.   I don’t think, for example, if I told you that this is what I’m looking for, that you’d have any real suggestions for me.  I bet you’d never be able to say, “Here!  Try this!  It just came in!”  First of all, if it just came in, it won’t be in the Sale Section.  You won’t be able to help me with sizes either, because whatever’s there is there.  It’s the leftovers.    

(not me)

Please don’t take it personally when I also refuse to look at you, on my way out, after having found nothing, as you fold clothes and hope that I Have a Good Day! Usually, on top of feeling like a felon because I’ve been watched so closely, I’m also upset for having not found anything that meets my, perhaps rigid, requirements. 

Maybe, however, had you been more helpful, I would have found Something Perfect.  Good luck with the job.  

Signed,

Not Easy to Please and Continuing to try to Shop Online But then you Usually Have to Pay for Shipping