Extreme Makeover: Classroom Edition

This is, indeed, old news BUT I was lucky enough to be hired (last-minute, as is the only respectable way to be hired when you're a new teacher) by a charter school near Minneapolis.  I am, people, an official fourth grade teacher!

I was hired on a Friday, teacher's prep began the following Monday, and school began a week later.  A month after the first day of school (that would be today), I feel like I can finally breathe.  A little.

Getting the classroom ready was, really, the hardest part.  I walked into my classroom on the first day and saw this:

I thought the garbage can in the center of the room made a nice touch.

The previous teacher had used some adhesive to add a white board to the blackboard.  It took  hours to fully clean it off and I still find some sticky spots to this day.

You might say, "Oh, look at the all the materials you have to work with!"  Most of this belonged to the previous teacher and was carted away shortly after.

It's hard to know where to begin when you have never done this before.  It didn't help that most of the other teachers in the school (most of whom had been there for at least 2-3 years) were busy creating cute little themed rooms like frogs and zoo animals and fish, etc.

A week later and things gradually fell into place, just in time for Meet the Teacher night.  Things look more or less the same now, albeit slightly more disheveled and the bulletin boards are more full.

I started with 23 students, but only 19 showed up on the first day. (The rest are going to different schools, I guess.)  I can live with this.

Stool purchased at Goodwill for $2.99

The students are filling up this board with "Book Boosts."

The "Wall of Awesome-ness" has collages on it right now.  I figure it will be reserved for art projects or whatever else we do in class.

I wish my desk still looked this neat!

The birthday cupcake wall!  It's full of names and candles now.  (On the day the photo was taken, mine was the only candle to be seen.)

Lightning McQueen CD player with Clifford in the window.

Some of my kids have learned the hard way the my toys are off limits.  Nobody plays with Pippi Longstocking but me!

 

 

 

 

 

 

My castle, my rules.  Got it?  Get it?  Good.

 

At Meet the Teacher Night.  It sort of made me popular. 

I hope to share more experiences later.  As for now, I may go back to bed!

My Running Shorts and I

Those of you who read my post about Wizard Camp may remember that I took the kids swimming every day for a couple of hours.  Well, I wasn't so happy about baring my legs in a swimsuit for five straight days.  While in the bathroom stall adjusting my Little Mermaid towel -- yes, now you all know that I never go swimming without my Little Mermaid beach towel -- so that it covered a good portion of my legs, I heard two of my older Wizard Camp girls talking about who would leave the locker room first.  These girls were not yet 11 and they were not remotely heavy, BUT they had already learned to compare themselves to other girls.  And, in comparing themselves to other girls, they had realized that there were slimmer figures out there.  And here I was, in a  nearby bathroom stall, exhibiting the same symptoms of self-loathing.

Fast forward a few weeks later.  It's 90-some degrees, humid, and I'm trying to go for a jog.  Another fact about me?  I have not allowed myself to wear a pair of shorts since at least senior year of high school, if not even slightly earlier than that.  So, I'm going for this jog wearing a pair of black capris.  Yeah, they're more flattering to my shape (which is decidedly pear-like), but it's HOT outside.  And my boyfriend asks me for the umpteenth time:  "Why, why, WHY don't you finally give in and buy a pair of shorts?"  And I give the obvious answer (the same one I've used for years): "Because I'm too FAT, darn it!!!"

But then I realized something.  As an educator, I am committed to being a good role model for boys and girls alike.  How can I properly set a good example if I am saying one thing (such as, "Girls - don't be ashamed of your body!") while doing the exact opposite?  Shortly after, I went to Target and bought myself a pair of running shorts.  If you happen to see me running around one of the Minneapolis lakes during what's left of summer, I'll probably be wearing them.  It may not be pretty, but I'm cool, comfortable, and (slightly more) confident!

In Which Mad Men Inspires Me To Examine My Life

I plowed through all four seasons of Mad Men recently.  It's one of those shows that tries to remind us the the past was not a great time in which to live and yet makes you want to live in that time period anyway.  Mad Men is unique from all those other shows, books, and movies in that it examines angles other than that of the suppressed and unhappy housewife.

The deal is that back in the 1950s and early 1960s the American dream for a man was to find a successful career, house, and wife who would subsequently take care of the house and future children.  The dream for the wife was to find a husband whose house and family she would take care of.  We've learned since then that this sort of lifestyle obviously does not buy happiness.  In fact, the media continually likes to remind us that these products of their time were severely UNhappy.

I would like to point out that in today's society  it is generally expected (of men and women alike) that at some point in your life you will:

A. find a successful and fulfilling career
B. buy a house
C. get married
D. have children
E. be a well-rounded and sincerely HAPPY individual

Um, really?  The people in the 1960s weren't expected to be really, truly happy and the women didn't even have the pressure of finding a job.  The only thing today's generation has got on those of the past is that we have until we are 30 or so to reach that goal.  I, however, will be 30 in a year (and a month) and have yet to acquire any of these things.  I mean, usually I'm a reasonably happy and well-rounded individual, but then I take a look at factors A through D and realize I have a long way to go before I can attain COMPLETE happiness.

Thankfully, I have also learned from Mad Men that drinking and smoking can solve all of my insecurities and make me look insanely suave.  Pass me a bottle of brandy...

A Week At Wizard (Harry Potter) Camp

Last week I spent time with a group of witches and wizards. Seriously.  I got a job this summer teaching Wizard Camp and, oh my, was it a fun time.  And tiring.  The kids (ages 6-11) were dropped off at 8am and I had them until 5pm.  No breaks, no down time, and we went swimming for two hours daily.  Exhausted as I was at the end of each day, I never knew a job could be so much fun.

So what do you do at Wizard Camp?  The first thing we did was find our wands. This consisted of going outside and looking around for sticks on the ground.  If they wanted, I had glitter and other materials on hand so they could decorate their wands.  Most kids were happy with their sticks plain.  Wizard Camp kids, you see, have a lot of imagination.

In fact, these kids were hardcore Harry Potter fans.  Now, I consider myself a fan of the series BUT I had nothing on some of these self-proclaimed wizards and witches.  One explanation would be that they have read all of the books multiple times within a short time period, while my Harry Potter reading, although I've read all of the books at least twice, has been spread out over the past 11-12 years or so.  Or else they're just plain crazy.  (I'm kidding, obviously.  I adored them.)  A fun fact I shared with my Wizard Camp kids?  When the first movie came out in the Fall of 2001, I was in college.  They either were not born or were babies.   Yep.  

I am now kicking myself for not taking pictures of some of the activities we did.  The only time I remembered to take out my camera was to take a few pictures of the group creating the Tri-Wizard Tournament Maze (out of sidewalk chalk) on our very last day of camp.

The Sphinx at the end of the maze.  

My most popular Wizarding activity?  Every day we made a different Harry Potter-themed treat (we were lucky enough to have access to a kitchen). Butter Beer was, by far, the biggest success, followed closely by Chocolate Frogs.  The Butter Beer recipe I found is apparently really similar to what is sold at the Wizarding World of Harry Potter at Universal Studios and consists merely of cream soda, butterscotch sundae topping, and whipped cream.  (Recipe here: http://www.mugglenet.com/misc/rosmertas/cicisbutterbeer.shtml )
For Chocolate Frogs, I purchased this mold from Amazon.com (http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/B003QMMOZ8/thehomeimprovemz ) and they turned out beautifully.

Before putting them in the refrigerator to harden, I had the kids stand around (with their sticks/wands) and perform various enchantments on the frogs to make them hop like the ones in the books.  I then told them that if anyone opened up the refrigerator door to see how the frogs were turning out, the magic might get out.  Well, as luck would have it, a few peeks were made, so we had lifeless Chocolate Frogs.  Lifeless, but delicious.

Quidditch proved to be more of a challenge.  After doing some research on "Muggle Quidditch", I came up with a version that represented soccer more than anything else.  I gathered all of my witches and wizards together and presented my ideas and asked them how they wanted to play. One girl had brought her copy of Quidditch Through the Ages and wanted to stay true to all of the fifty gazillion fouls mentioned.  A boy was upset that I was downsizing the amount of goals to two.  A couple of the less athletically inclined wanted to sit out and watch.  I reminded them that at 10 wizards and witches (including myself) we were already short and need all the players we could get.  So we finally were able to agree on most aspects of the game, found a place outside, and played.  After lots of running around and being confused about who exactly was keeping score, among other things, one of the Seekers finally found the Snitch (a tennis ball the Keepers hid before the game started).  We never played again.  Although during our final hour, while sharing our camp memories around a Pasta Pensieve (a bowl of spaghetti noodles with some dry ice mixed in to give it a nice magical effect), playing Quidditch frequently came up as a favorite.  Score!

One day, as we were going back inside after playing a game of Aurors and Death Eaters (i.e. Cops and Robbers), I heard an outsider mutter, "Harry Potter nerds," under his breath.  He received a very dirty look from my direction.  Anyway, being a Harry Potter Nerd is quite a wonderful thing to be, if you ask me.

In Which I Make Lots of Lists

As mentioned in my previous post, I am now a substitute teacher. I am also back to working the front desk at ye olde hair salon for about 16-17 hours a week.  This makes me feel better on days, like today, when I do not get called for a  teaching job.

The worst thing about not getting called for a job?  The fact that even if you don't get a call right away in the morning, there's always the chance you'll get called later on in the day to fill in for a teacher who has to leave suddenly.  Now, this is not a bad thing.  After all, I need all the work I can get these days.  It does, however, put a damper on one's day.  Frankly, it turns me into a neurotic mess.  Should I go to Target?  Should I go to the gym?  What if I get called?  What if I don't get called?  How much money could I have made if I had switched my schedule and worked with a different school district today?

Okay, so this has nothing to do with anything.  I did an image search for "neurotic", hoping to find a nice picture of someone pulling out his or her hair, and this came up instead.  It was too weird NOT to use.

 
Do you know what calms me down in moments like this?  Lists.  Yeah, I've turned into some sort of list-making nut.  But, see, lists are awesomely helpful because I can gather my thoughts and figure out what I can get done while I wait.  I get a lot more laundry done this way.  It's good.  So is the feeling you get when you cross something off of a list.

"Writing a blog entry" was on my list today.  Check.

The Joys of Substitute Teaching

So I've been subbing now.  It's kind of the pits.  Remember in grade school when you'd have a substitute teacher and you'd say to yourself, "What's the deal with this idiot?"  Yeah, me too.  Well, there's no possible way for a substitute teacher to know exactly what to do.  First of all, chances are that the sub has gotten the job last minute and has had to rush to the school, completely unprepared.  Second of all, upon entering the building, the sub is merely pointed in the direction of the classroom they will be taking over.  There is no tour of the school; the sub is not even told where the lounge is so that he or she can put his or her lunch in the refrigerator.  If the sub needs to take the students somewhere during the course of the day, one can only hope that the students will be honest and help the sub find where to go.  Third of all, no matter how detailed the lesson plans that the teacher leaves are, and no matter how hard that teacher tries to make sure all the materials are in an easy-to-find place, there is no way for the sub to know where everything is.  It's challenging, I'm telling you.  Not unrewarding, but definitely challenging.

If I showed up to a class revealing my garter belt in this fashion, I would probably be asked to leave.

 Anyway, I was excited to be able to work in the same classroom for two consecutive days last week.  It was a Kindergarten class, which I chose specifically not because I like working with younger students (I much prefer slightly older), but I had never worked with Kindergartners before, so I was looking forward to the challenge.  And what a challenge that turned out to be!  This was at an inner city school, so the classroom was very diverse and, with diversity comes names that are hard to get down in the course of one day.  And these Kindergartners were particularly unruly ones.  They were very, very thrown off by having a substitute teacher and many spent a good part of the day being argumentative amongst themselves, crying periodically, and tattling -- oh, the tattling!  Needless to say, it was next to impossible to follow the lesson plans the teacher had left for me.

The worst part, though, was getting them on the bus.  It suddenly dawned on me that I was responsible for the safety of 24 children.  And I could not begin to know for sure which student was who, nor what anyone's name was.  Yet, they were entrusted in my care and it was up to me to make sure they made it home.  It was too much.  Everybody did make it on the bus/were picked up by the correct parent but I could barely keep back tears as I made my way back to the classroom (which the students had all but demolished by the end of the day).

And I had to do it all over again the next day.  I briefly considered admitting my incompetence and giving up the job, but couldn't let myself do that.  Then I thought about ways to make myself get sick overnight.  I didn't feel sick but maybe I could skip taking my nightly Airbourne which would, in turn, weaken my immune system and maybe let my body give into all the germs I had been exposed to during the course of the week... 

I woke up Friday morning feeling just fine.  While getting ready, I Googled "Kindergarten Classroom Management" and jotted down some notes.  Guess what?  Friday went extremely smoothly.  I like to think that I changed into a better teacher overnight, but I think it had more to do with the fact that the students had gotten over my being new and decided to settle down.  Still, I installed a few very important classroom rules at the beginning of the day and made use of some of these surprisingly good ideas:

1.  I put a stuffed elephant on a chair in the corner of the room and told the students that if they felt like they needed to tattle on someone, they could go tell Mr  Elephant.  I cannot begin to tell you how well this worked.  A few times, when a couple of students got into a fight over who got to talk to Mr. Elephant first, I just told them that Mr. Elephant was tired and needed to take a break and they actually listened to me.

2.  The Quiet Game.  I was extremely skeptical of this, but right after snack time when I could sense that they were seconds away from getting out of control, I told them that I had a really good idea for a game.  At that, every one of them perked up and wanted to know more.  Moments later, I had them all at their tables with their heads down, silent.  It was nuts, I'm telling you!

3.  Taking time to sing songs and play games during transitions makes all the difference.  This is sort of a no-brainer, but it was something I did not think of the day before.  Oh my, did it make things easier, though!

The best part of the day?  When the time came to take them to their buses, I realized that I knew the names of at least 80 percent (maybe more) of the students.  I was able to send them on their way knowing that they were on the correct buses, accounted for, and that I didn't compromise their safety in any way.

What a relief!

Paris and then... ?

Slightly over two months ago, I was traipsing around Paris.  Actually, after a brief dictionary look-up and discovering that traipsing apparently means "a tedious or tiring journey on foot", I'm wondering if that's exactly the right word choice.  There was nothing remotely tedious about it.  Tiring at times?  Yes.  But definitely not tedious.  Gallivanting might better describe what I did around Paris.  All I know is that I was pretty much the happiest girl around during the course of that long weekend.  La cité des lumières did not disappoint in the slightest.


Here's the thing of it.  I really, truly had grown to love Berlin.  In fact, I had almost gotten over the fact that I did not get placed in France, nor England, my second choice.  I had all but forgotten that Germany was nowhere on my list of choices and I had been very close to declining the offer to student teach there in the first place.  Well, the second I stepped off the plane to Paris, I knew deep down that I had spent the last seven weeks in the wrong country.  Riding the RER into the city, I somehow knew exactly where everything was located.  All the time I spent in high school, poring over guidebooks, dreaming about the day I would be able to travel to Paris came back to me.  It was surreal to be somewhere I had never been before, yet everything looked just as I remembered it.  I was even able to use French more successfully than I had anticipated  and now, especially, I really regret the lost opportunity to practice it.  If three and a half days could improve my language skills that much, imagine what seven weeks could have done!  

Probably one of the greatest days in my life.

  Who am I kidding?  Spending time in Germany was still a wonderful experience and I wouldn't trade it for anything.  Since I've been back, I've kept a running list in my head of the pros and cons of leaving the country again and teaching at an international school in Europe.  Quite often, the pros outweigh the cons.

I have just come to terms with the fact that I have now been home longer than I was gone.  Here's the rundown:  I got back on the 15th of December, ten days before Christmas.  Well, that time went fast.  On the 16th of December, I was still convinced that I would have everything ready in time to get a Christmas tree.  By the 22nd, I succumbed to the idea that we would be Christmas tree-less this year.  Oh well.  More to look forward to next year, I guess.

On January 1st, I decided it was time to "recover" from my trip, get things in order and, most importantly, work off some of the many pounds of fat I consumed, most notoriously at the Christmas Markets.  I was on the treadmill, I had just hit 2.1 miles and had about 20 seconds to go on my 20-minute run.  Looking at my hair in the mirror in front of the treadmill, I was admiring how long my ponytail was looking.  I turned my head ever so slightly to get a better look and my ankle turned in.  I thought I maybe heard a pop or a crack, but I had earphones in, so it might have been something in the music that I heard.  Anyway, I slowed down to a walk but it hurt like heck.  Clearly I had sprained something, which was really annoying because that meant I would probably have to delay more running for a week or so.  

The next morning, even after an entire evening of icing and resting, it still really, really hurt to walk.  So I threw in the towel and went to urgent care.  I left urgent care on crutches, strapped up in one of those orthopedic boots.  Yep, broken foot.  Lovely.  Guess what?  I was on those crutches until a week ago.  That's seven weeks of being next to helpless.     

Thankfully, things are finally looking up (you have no idea how good three more weeks of an orthopedic boot looks when you've been on crutches as long as me) and I am set to start substitute teaching on Monday.  That is, if I get called with any jobs.   I'm hoping this means that my misadventures can begin again.  Of course, now they take place here as opposed to there, so I can't guarantee that I will have much to report.  But I just sent my German students a postcard of Minneapolis and I realized things aren't so bad here.  

I mean, it's not Paris, but it'll do for now.