The Ms. Elena Diaries

Hello Readers!

Thank you for returning to my blog again. It’s hard to tell sometimes if this blog is at all interesting or just self-indulgent. Nonetheless, if you are reading it, I appreciate you coming back for more.

Today, I stayed an extra hour after school to meet with some of my 3rd grade students from last year (now 4th graders). Their faces are longer, their hair has changed, and they are somehow more confident and more self-conscious at the same time. It was nice to interact with them in a different space. They helped me with my classroom, played with legos, and we ended the day running around outside. It brings to mind the after school space, and how connecting with students in a less structured, less standardized space can be great space for kids to relax into their actual selves and still learn academic and social skills. I tried to do some tutoring with these very students last year, but I found it really stressful to try to force them to be in “student mode” an extra hour with me after they’d already had six hours of sitting at attention, trying their best (most of the time). Our only rule for coming to after school this year is that homework has to be done (complete with regular homework checks with their teachers). After that, I can focus on forming relationships with them, helping them process whatever is going on at home and at school, but mostly, just let them be kids having fun in a safe environment.

I think this is what many after school programs do for students. They allow kids a predictable environment with their friends (just like school), except there is also room for freedom and choice. Ideally, schools would tap into this freedom as well, but the reality is that so many schools depend on high test scores for funding. Thus, a traditional, extremely focused (little choice) environment is often favored by school administrators and their teachers. I won’t go into the socioeconomic inequity of that whole issue, but I will say that in my (little) experience, students learn best when they are relaxed, interested in the subject, and with their peers. I know that sounds pretty basic. After all, which of us wants to go to a work training or lecture that is stressful, boring, and with a bunch of strangers? But schools often become stressful, boring environments where socializing with friends is discouraged for the very reason I mentioned before–strict emphasis on standardized test scores.

I guess what I’m saying here is that I feel I’ve been given a new opportunity with these Ms. Silva’s Class alumni. I can enjoy these students now for who they are and take our learning from there. They still need guidance and support (case in point: one of my students was about to ride a kindergarten tricycle down a slide before I stopped her and told her–as if this was new information–that that would be unsafe…another student spent a couple moments doing cartwheels around my classroom before I had to remind him we’re in a classroom, not outside). They’re not kindergarteners but they’re still kids. It will be interesting to see how this second year with them, in a different learning capacity, progresses.

Thank you for reading!

Elena

Last entry, I talked about some social phases my students have been going through. There was a brief period of time, I’ll admit, where I felt a little frustrated by these phases. I just wanted to dig into our content! I was ready to design thematic units about the life cycle, counting, writing, reading, music, and more! As a new kindergarten teacher, I couldn’t understand why my students couldn’t remember to say sorry when they bumped into someone accidentally when I’d already taught them this more than once. (Of course, the easy answer to this is…why can’t I work out every day when I’ve read upwards of 50 articles on how beneficial daily exercise is for you?).

One day this week, a student of mine and two students from another kindergarten class got into a fight at recess. For some reason, I felt the urge to offer to bring all three of them into my class after recess so we could solve the problem together instead of letting it fester. In retrospect, this seems crazy. I already have a class of 28 students with no other adults in the room. But I must have had a little extra coffee that day or something because it felt right! I gave my class some independent math work, and the four of us sat in our “Talk It Out Corner” (which was developed a few weeks ago). We drew pictures of what had happened and what it would look like if they were all friends. Then I helped them practice articulating to each other what they didn’t like and what they wanted to happen the next time. We all felt better and were able to return to our learning calmly (I include myself in that…as most teachers can attest to, it can be very challenging and frustrating to try and teach a class of kids if even one of them is angry or upset).

I felt so great about this interaction. My student and I were both feeling good, and I felt that I was more patient for the rest of the day. It felt like a real victory. Every once in a while last year, I would have a small moment like this, where I felt like I was really clicking in with who I am as a teacher. But most of the time, these moments were overshadowed by what felt like a huge weight of academic content I had to cover for a wide variety of academic levels, not to mention feeling especially bogged down by my inexperience. With the adjustment to a new grade level this year, the large class, and my overall newness to classroom teaching, I hadn’t felt that yet this year. But this interaction made me think about all the little behavioral phases we’ve been going through as a class and my reasons for going into teaching in the first place.

As a City Year, one of my favorite things to work on with students was social emotional skills. As a classroom teacher, I often feel I have little time for small-group social emotional skills, so I think I feel frustrated when I can’t get to content because there are social issues. After this moment with these students, it dawned on me–despite the pressure to be highly academic each minute of the day, social skills are the crux of kindergarten…how awesome that it happens to be my favorite thing to teach.

I want to acknowledge now that this magical moment I had with those students does not always occur. I was lucky that I could let my class occupy themselves for ten minutes without worrying that there would be safety issues among students. In fact, there have been several times this year that I have wanted to do a similar strategy but for whatever reason, it wasn’t possible. In an ideal world, there would be four adults in the room at all times and the “talk it out corner” would be in constant use, rather than just once or twice a week, or whenever I can manage to utilize it. However, knowing it’s there, and knowing it’s worked at least once gives me a little hope that our overall classroom culture could gravitate toward restorative instead of punitive teaching.

As a grad student, I imagined my classroom as a harmonious place 100% of the time. I envisioned daily social justice lessons, consistently happy students, and a very happy teacher. The reality is that there are so many requirements of the average teacher (testing, grading, content standards, IEP meetings, committee meetings, to name a few) that this perfect, happy image isn’t always possible for someone so new to the field like me. Many times since I started teaching, I’ve told myself to throw everything I’d hoped for away and embrace the sometimes stark reality that is classroom teaching. Maybe my expectations were a little too high for where I’m at right now, but maybe they’re not unfounded, and not best ignored after all.

As a City Year, I remember emailing my family seven months into the school year and saying that I had started judging myself not by how well my students were doing behaviorally or academically each day, but by whether or not I had tried my best with the situation in the moment. It wasn’t a “lower bar” to measure myself by–just a different one. It was a bar that has helped to pave the way toward reflecting on my practice more objectively instead of with the background noise of all that I “could have/should have” done.

The “Talk It Out Corner” is certainly a remnant of my more idealistic, younger, and less experienced self. It’s not used perfectly or regularly, and it’s not always helpful when it is used. But it’s there. It’s another option and more importantly, I think it’s a mindset–that kind, individualized, restorative techniques are possible in a public school classroom, but it might look different in every school and with every class. I may have a class one year where something like that could never work or a school that discourages this educational practice. But perhaps if I have the mindset that there are alternatives, my overall practice will strengthen and I will reconnect with the teacher I am meant to be.

Hello Readers!

It’s been a while since I posted but I thought I would just write a little update post about my year at school so far. As many of you know, I’ve switched to teaching kindergarten this year. It’s been a compelling journey, but I have to say, I think I like it.

My biggest fear when coming into this job was how I was going to teach the fundamentals of math and reading. While reading and counting is of course reinforced in 1st and 2nd grades, I saw with my 3rd grade class last year how crucial it is to get a strong foundation in kindergarten. All summer, I worried that I would fail to give my students their foundation in number sense and an accessible understanding of beginning phonics. However, what I’ve found is that my kids are pretty smart–they’re picking up the academics really well. Our largest challenge by far has been socializing with one another.

In the nine weeks since we started together, we’ve gone through a number of different phases together:

• There was the “accident versus on purpose” phase, when we had to have several in-depth discussions about the idea that even if you didn’t mean to bump into someone, you still have to acknowledge that it happened and tell them you’re sorry.
• There was the “oh well, better luck next time” phase. This was when we had to learn to say that phrase to ourselves (with some cute hand gestures) in order to remember that just because we weren’t picked for a special job this time, doesn’t mean it will be forever and ever and ever for the rest of eternity or the end of the day whichever comes first.
• An ongoing phase is the “personal space” phase. As a class, we engage in many practice sessions of keeping our hands to ourselves and giving other students a little space to breathe. As fun as it can be to go up to someone’s face and, centimeters away from their nose, stick out our tongues, we’ve learned that this action won’t always trigger the most pleasant reaction.

At first, I thought these little phases were funny. But the more I think about it, the more I see how serious it is for a teacher to commit to teaching social skills to children. As adults, we think of “social skills” as being able to hold pleasant conversation (saying “I’m sorry” when necessary), acting “mature” in all public situations (“oh well, I didn’t win the raffle prizes to DisneyLand…better luck next time”), and not standing too close to someone (personal space). Sound familiar?

The wonderful thing about kindergarten is that there is so much growth, even in the first few weeks of school. My students are intelligent and kind. They work hard every day to be good friends and good students. I can’t wait to see where they go for the rest of the year.

Fade in on a first-year teacher in Los Angeles. Today she was supposed to clean up the classroom, leave by 3:30, and write pleasantly in a coffee shop until dinner. She was also supposed to work out, take in her computer to get fixed, and pick up a couple things at the store. Instead, she did none of this. Instead, she spent the day searching for mulberry leaves on behalf of her very malnourished class pets: silkworms.

A little background. When she was a student teacher, her third grade teacher mentor had a shoebox of about 25 silkworms. They lived in his classroom full time intricately spinning their silk full time, while his class of enthusiastic third graders would take turns paying them visits. She never saw her mentor teacher feed them, take them home, or purchase additional supplies. Whatever educational institution he’d gotten the worms from had provided him with more than enough sustenance to last the worms for weeks, or at least until they were all cocooned.

Almost exactly a year later, this student teacher finds herself as a third grade teacher in her own right standing in front of a silkworm vendor at the Natural History Museum’s Bug Fair. With all her first-year-teacher earnest passion to do right by her students, she impulsively buys 16 of them. It only costs her $6 and the vendor throws in enough mulberry leaves to last her the weekend.

“There are mulberry trees literally all over L.A.,” the vendor tells her, smiling. “Where do you live?”

The new teacher tells her and the vendor pauses, then responds simply with, “Oh….well, they’re literally all over.”

“Right!” the new teacher agrees, on a Bug Fair high. “I’m sure I’ll find them.”

Fade out on the young teacher waltzing around a museum in kicky tennis shoes and a Tree Grows in Brooklyn t-shirt, utterly convinced that she is a teacher who really cares about learning. After all, she thinks, she is bringing LIVE learning to her classroom! That’s what truly dedicated teachers do, so I guess that makes me one of them!

Fade in on the same teacher one week later, dressed in her new teacher best, staring at the six dead silkworms lying shriveled up in her classroom. After regularly feeding her silkworms the dried mulberry leaves she’d ordered on Amazon, as well as the various species of leaves she picked from at least five different trees in her neighborhood that certainly look like mulberry trees, she feels at a loss. How could this have happened? she wonders, beginning to panic. According to her helpful fiancé, who is the pragmatic researcher to her passionate creator, silkworms need fresh mulberries because they like the smell. It’s not only that other species of leaves won’t work, but other non-fresh mulberry leaves won’t work either.

Thus, with the fear now of becoming a heartless teacher who unintentionally has opened up a discussion on life and death with her 8-year-olds, she embarks on a two-hour journey across Los Angeles in search of free (or cheap, anyway) sustenance for her diminishing worm-children. She cradles her shoebox in the front seat of her ’95 Corolla and bump-bumps away, slowing down over and over next to random trees as she searches high and low for a mulberry tree she can steal from.

After calling four nurseries, most of which have no mulberry trees (one of which has one for the ripe price of $100), scouring several neighborhoods, and listening to 12 YouTube videos on the different kinds of mulberry trees, mulberries, leaf shapes, and climates silkworms prefer, she is ready to give up. When SUDDENLY, a few blocks from her home, she spots a Morus Alba, aka white mulberry tree, in a newly landscaped front yard. She makes an illegal U-Turn, parks horribly, and jumps out. That’s it! That’s it! she practically screams out loud! I can see the mulberries and everything! She trumps across the garden and snatches as many as she can, runs them back to the car, and thrusts them into the box. After watching her silk babies eat ravenously for a few minutes, and giving friendly grins to the inquisitive passersby, she jumps out again and takes as many leaves as she can in 15 seconds, runs back to the car, and zooms away, like the leaves were stolen gems and her silkworms were her crime accomplices.

She ends the night in a Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf, awaiting the arrival of a mulberry leaf “hookup” found on craigslist (thank you again, fiancé), who will supply her with enough mulberry leaves to last her silkworms through their cocoon stage, as well as replace her six, deceased silkworms with a fresh ten (not that they could ever really be replaced…). Her guilt about being a bad silkworm caretaker a little assuaged, and her brain a little more stretched with this new silkworm and mulberry tree knowledge, she breathes a sigh of relief and takes another bite of her chocolate muffin. Another day in the life of a first-year teacher.