Know Your Why

Summer is ending. This summer has been both incredibly joyful and illuminatingly challenging. We traveled to Vegas, New Orleans, and Ohio, to celebrate summer and some very special couples in our lives.
I attempted a job this summer that was quite different from teaching. Bartending at an old-timey bar seemed like the dream summer job, but what I found was that the food and drink industry was different than I imagined. Serving customers was just as I expected...people were gracious and understanding, and when I was serving beer, I felt right at home. Serving food was as challenging as I thought...with no prior knowledge of writing food tickets and without ample training (any training really), I was yelled at and made to feel very small by my boss/cook. I kept telling myself that I would just try harder, I would learn after a while...but what I found was that even when I wasn't making mistakes, I was still doing something wrong (does that make sense?). The silver lining is this job made me appreciate being a teacher all the more...where communication and training is key. And instead of anxiously awaiting each shift, walking on eggshells and afraid of what I might do that would be perceived as wrong or idiotic...I quit a job for the very first time. (I have left jobs before, but for reasons like moving...never have I told someone "I quit.") So, after a full month of feeling anxious and upset about self-deprecating, my summer began.
I end this summer begin this school year with a lot of excitement, a renewed sense of purpose, and gratitude with these new experiences. I aim to give my all this year, while focusing on my own self care and gratitude rather than focusing on the things that I cannot control. I hope to come back to my roots a bit...to work more joy into each day, and to remember WHY I want to teach...not just to impart standards, but to lead in a way that hopefully inspires even one student or person in my classroom/at my school to think more deeply about race, power, and privilege, and how our nation/world operates in an inequitable way... and we have the power to work towards a more just community. This can even start in Kindergarten. I know this is a huge idea...but I aim to try at least ONE activity/strategy in my classroom that will get my students thinking about their purposefulness in this world and the impact they can have on spreading kindness and fairness to all, and finding teachable moments to address issues of inequity.

"Race prejudice is not only a shadow over the colored--it is a shadow over all of us, and the shadow is darkest over those who feel it least and allow its evil effects to go on." –Pearl S. Buck

The other day at an impactful teacher training about "Knowing Our Why" I created this personal statement to carry with me this school year. I aim to challenge myself and others to live for love, care, and compassion for ALL- to analyze and reflect on my own biases, prejudices, and privilege, to rethink and question the status quo in small, purposeful ways--to shatter it and work towards equity and peace.

 

On teacher appreciation

This day/week fills me with so much appreciation for all the teachers in my life. My parents, first and foremost, who taught me how to read and provided me with every educational opportunity I could ever hope for. Mrs. McCabe, Ms. DeYoung, Mr. Kropf..teachers who challenged me, inspired me, pushed me to believe and understand something new about myself or the world. Mentor teachers (Sylvie, Wayne, Aija, Erica) who broke down lessons, provided gentle and informative critique, and taught me invaluable lessons about the classroom and pedagogy. My grad school professors who helped me understand developmentally appropriate practice, inquiry-based teaching, and the importance of a responsive, socially just classroom culture.
Mara and Rachel...my patient, gifted first grade colleagues who taught me most of what I know about teaching young children. They took me on as a first year teacher to their team and gave me the gift of patience, helped me within my Zone of Proximal Development, and ONLY lifted me up. I know most of what I know about blending and ELA instruction from Rachel Amsterdam and most of what I know about student-centered Math instruction (including Number Talks!) from Mara Henry. I am so indebted to you very special educators and now, two of my dearest friends.
Nova, who was my BTSA coach, my cheerleader, one of the only people who saw me as ME as a teacher, without judgment and with endless praise and analysis. Everything I know about learning targets and holding students accountable comes from her. Jessica Sigler, who came to Oakland a year after I did but floored me with her developmentally appropriate pedagogy, firm love, and incredible success in teaching every single student in her class to READ fluently by the end of Kindergarten (not to mention inspiring me to run a half marathon!). Ellie, my current Kinder colleague, who is endlessly patient with my all-over-the-placeness, and has taught me what "zen" actually means.
My greatest teachers, along with these incredible influences, have been my students. They are empathetic, understanding, reflective, resilient, introspective, compassionate, and adaptive.
I am so very thankful.

On authenticity in the classroom

I often look at other educators, and think...  "If only I could be like them..." If only I could have a silent line, if only I was planned three weeks in advance, if only my data were better, if only I remembered to go back and reflect whole-group on every single lesson we do as a class...if only my shirt weren't coffee stained or the soles falling off my shoes, or the inside of my car immaculate...the word wall in my classroom stuck on "S" because I haven't created the letter collages I've been working on since December...
But that's not me. I'm trying in my profession to accept myself the way my dearest friends and family do wholeheartedly. If only I were as gentle on me as they were on me... I'd perhaps be a better teacher because I'd be more confident, more self-loving, and less likely to lose my patience with the kids because I'd love my own practice and trust my own self more. This is often a theme in my blog posts because I'm constantly working on my self-love as an educator. And I think part of that self love is appreciating the fact that I will never be good enough for myself, my students, or their families in my eyes. That constant striving for better is a good thing. But, guys, I keep beating myself up. I blame myself for EVERYTHING in my classroom. That child's behavior is on ME. I must have done something or said something to cause it. The fact that the newsletter didn't make it home to one child is on ME...I should have taught them better organization skills to get it there. The fact that I forget to print something or get something signed is on me... for not writing it down. I spend so much time thinking about all the things I've done wrong, it is so hard for me to see what is going right. This self-blaming...it's the thing that's held me down in my teaching for these five years, and it's the thing I need to stop, or at least accept.
My classroom will not be immaculate. I am not an immaculate person. I fold my laundry in bursts--I take 2 shirts at a time to my room to hang up rather than do all at once. I forget to give at least one student a snack every single day... the kids know so well by now that we all laugh and say "Silly Ms. Weissman!" in unison. I forget to pay bills sometimes...I will without fail ALWAYS forget to hook my computer up to the projector ahead of time when we're about to watch a movie or youtube video, and spend 3 minutes looking for the right cord. I'm messy and my classroom's a little messy and guesswhat...my students are a little messy.
But what's good about my classroom? These are the things that I struggle to find. But...here goes. Every day when I take attendance, when someone doesn't say "Here" the students murmur how sad they are that one of our friends can't be with us today. It doesn't matter who it is or when it is...without fail, every time...at least three kids will shake their heads and AUTHENTICALLY say how sad it is we can't all be here together.
My students are not afraid of me. Some people might say this is a bad thing--but I don't think it is. My students tell me anything and everything, they laugh at me and with me, and they apologize when they've hurt my feelings and I apologize when I've hurt theirs. My students love writing time and have the choice/fleixibility to use their imaginations about the things that matter to them. Every day we share "Calendar news" where the kids tell eachother what's coming up in their lives and what they're looking forward to. My class gives eachother thumbs up when they accomplish something--when someone takes a risk, when work looks particularly neat and complete--when a table group gets to line up first for showing responsibility and getting their work done. I'm good at teaching number sense--we practice dot patterns and number recognition every day. My students fart and burp all the time and say "Excuse me" and we all move on without missing a beat.
What do I need to work on? Oh goodness... being truly equitable, training my students to self reflect better, to apply more partner work, to stick to my schedule more, to not let the little things get to me, to let go of work once I get home...
But this is me. My classroom is certainly not perfect. But it is real, and I am real, and very flawed...and I'm proud my students are such thoughtful and caring and flawed human beings. They help each other easily and readily, they are immediately there for me if I'm hurt or upset, they think deeply about the decisions they make and honestly just want to do well. Every. single. one. of. them. So my kids might not form all their letters perfectly, they might not line up beautifully every time, but we're figuring it out together.

On nerdy teacher things...

Lucy Calkins. Lisa Delpit. Debbie Diller. Fountas and Pinnell. Pedro Noguera. Debbie Miller. Marilyn Burns. A few names that may mean nothing to the general population, but whose words and pedagogy have influenced my life in the classroom and out of it.
“The stereotypical images we hold toward groups are powerful in influencing what people see and expect of students. Unless educators consciously try to undermine and work against these kinds of stereotypes, they often act on them unconsciously. Our assumptions related to race are so deeply entrenched that it is virtually impossible for us not to hold them unless we take conscious and deliberate action.”
-Pedro Noguera
 This is what is at the forefront of my mind EVERY DAY in the classroom. Who am I calling out and why? Who am I holding accountable and how? Am I being too lenient, too subjective? Am I noticing certain "behaviors" because they're simply different from the behaviors valued by the culture of power? Every day I'm failing myself because I'm not doing enough to my own standards...but I think this is a good thing. To constantly strive for a better and more just classroom in teaching is IMPERATIVE, I think. Today I called on a blonde girl perhaps 1 or 2 times more than other students in my class. Why? Because she raised her hand more. What am I reflecting on today? Using my equity sticks no matter what at every part of every.single.day. Did we turn and talk enough today? Were my ELLs voices heard, or at least given the access to be heard? Did I use too many idioms without explaining? Were my visuals clear enough for my student hard of hearing? Are my students being purposeful in their work? Are they thinking critically/making predictions/using prior knowledge and text to self connections to guide their reading skills? Can they decode the digraph sh? Do they know what a short vowel is? Did I explain to them WHY we don't wear hats in the classroom rather than bark at them to just take it off? Did I give enough think time, did we I interactively model enough, did I allow for think time, did I provide enough scaffolding and sentence frames to provide for structured, meaningful conversations?
Every day these things are on my mind every single day. Often it's jumbled in my brain, things are ALWAYS left behind, I always want more and better, and at this moment I'm craving more knowledge. I want to know more about the Daily Five, I want to make Lucy Calkins' approach to teaching writing more purposeful and accessible to English Language Learners; I want to incorporate more Total Physical Response and Call and Response.
I want to know more, to research more, to utilize all this knowledge more...

Whatwasit whatwasit whatwasit

I often wonder, like every other educator, I'm sure...was I meant to be a teacher? Most often times, the answer is no. I'm unorganized, scatterbrained, forgetful, and at times even a little careless. And I've always been this way. Sometimes I think it's getting worse. How can I be in charge of 28 little ones if I can't remember to pay a parking ticket/ bring my classroom keys to work/ fill out an Independent Study packet for a student who was absent today? How can I function as a Kindergarten teacher when I need to write down every thought that enters my brain onto a sticky note, lest otherwise it float away from my consciousness as easily as it flew in? I find myself walking into the staff room at my school purposefully, goal-in-sight, I-mean-business boots clacking purposefully, only to forget what I walked in there for, wandering aimlessly, smiling widely to hide the panicked "whatwasitwhatwasitwhatwasitwhatwasit" echoing in my brain. This happens to me at least twice every.single.day.
So then I think... what else could I do? What skills do I have? What job could I excel more at... a job where 28 children and their families aren't depending on me day in and day out. Will I remember to have your child check the Lost and Found to get their beanie at the end of the day as you're texting me? Probably not. Will I give out the flyer that I just received and ensure it makes it into the hands of every parent of my 5/6 year olds by this evening? Most likely not. Will I remember my own coat as I leave the classroom? Not likely. But will I accidentally carry the walkie talkie I'm required to wear all day to my car and let it die there forgetting I should have charged it in my room? Quite possibly.
But with all of of this, I'm trying to be gentle to myself while still working on these things. I've had incredible teachers show me their systems... but to be honest I still throw all my old lessons in a drawer, haphazard, telling myself I'll organize them this weekend. But this weekend I'll be doing dishes, updating student files, looking for new fun hands-on activities for next week. Or organizing that other shelf I've been meaning to, or filling binders with student work, or correcting student work, or filing student work.
But then I tell myself...my students are doing well, they seem happy, and I FEEL happy seeing these little ones each day. Do I feel happy thinking about my misgivings, about the things I forget, about the constant to-do-list? Not as much. But what matters are the kids... and they feel just right. Right now I feel on an up-curve in my classroom-- we feel like a family, who knows the ins and outs of one another, and who can talk to one another easily, cheerily, sometimes irritably, but always with an understanding of one another.
I love my class and I love this job. If only I was cut out for it, just a little more. ;)

On Sundays and missing my 10 year high school reunion...

Sundays are, for my #noobhusband, about jerseys and 10 am to 10 pm football. Since our meeting and my first year of teaching are one and the same, my adult life has consisted of Sundays filled with orange and black-clad David (just guess what his team is....hint: he's from Dayton, Ohio), seasonally-decorated bars, and the bright light of my laptop, reflecting lesson plans for the week (with gmail, facebook, teacherspayteachers, and pinterest tabs beckoning from behind). On this particular Sunday, I'm feeling nostalgic for The Avenue, a dive bar on Telegraph in North Oakland. David would wear his orange and black jersey, I'd be glued to my computer screen, plan book sprawled in front of me, beer (or occasionally milk), in hand. At Halloween there'd be creepy cobwebs and free food, beginning December 1st there'd be snowflakes, Santas, menorahs, and crockpots full of mac and/or nacho cheese.
Today, I have my snowman cozied-up beer, plan book sprawled, homework folders filled, and teacherspayteachers tab open, watching #noobhusband in his Warriors jersey (huh?) eating cheese and apples 20 feet away. Sunday is, for most teachers, yet another workday...and for me, it is quite the same. But Sundays have a certain charm, a certain coziness...a predictability that is rarely disturbed. Brunch on Sunday? No problem...still time for beer, teacherspayteachers, and scribbling all over my planbook. Birthday party at 6 pm? No problem, I'll have a mimosa while I plan and David looks on. Out of town/at airport/wedding/etc? David will use my fancy phone to watch Sundayticketorwhateveritscalledonaniphone/justwearhisBengalssocks and I'll fit my planbook in my purse. While Sundays often bring a little anxiety for the week, they also bring this routine and nostalgia...this has become my teacher's Sunday, if you will.
The other (non-teaching-related) thing on my mind this Sunday is missing my 10 year reunion. In part, it was a conscious decision. Until 3 or so weeks ago, it was a given. I wanted to go purely for the fear of regretting not going if I didn't. And guess what? I regret not going. Mostly what won over was this weird fear of reverting to a high school self-- not that high school self was bad, but high school self meant awkwardly hiding in the library at lunch because pretending to use the computer to fill out college applicatons was easier than trying to find a friend who didn't have lunch period off my senior year. High school self was charting Mario Kart victories against the "computer" in bar graphs. High school self was not returning phone calls for fear of saying the wrong thing on the phone. High school self was falling asleep in class, being nervous to say "here" when roll was called, wearing too-short cheerleading skirts on Fridays because we had to, calling my parents to be picked up at parties where alcohol was present (YEP, that really happened), and perhaps being part of things I wouldn't be a part of now (yes I do mean cheerleading...I regret nothing, but my current feminist self wishes I took up softball, too, and worried less about how high my ponytail was rather than how big my biceps were...although college cheerleading taught me through double days I could have both ;). High school self was being a "try hard kid"--but yet somehow not; lacking the voracious inquiry to ACTUALLY learn, all while still earning a too-high GPA, when I now cannot accurately tell you precisely what a derivative is, what the equation for force is, or who our 22nd President was.
And so, you see, I was afraid that being around anyone/thing from high school would remind me of what we all experienced to one degree or another in adolescence...that uneasy, self-conscious, inadequate feeling of BEING. And to feel unsure like that again...was seemingly not worth it. I remember, in high school, being so envious of the people who felt comfortable enough to strike up a conversation with a stranger, to joke with a member of the opposite sex, to even be physically comfortable enough with someone to lightly punch them on the shoulder or hug them randomly--not upon greeting or saying goodbye. And NOW-- I feel I am the same and yet opposite of who I was, still hyper-aware of the feelings and meanings of others, but with a certain-knowledge of who I am: a beer-and-family/friend-loving, Murakami-reading, Jeapordy-watching, milk-guzzling, Kindergarten-teaching, forgetful, key-losing, social-justice-seeking extrovert who enjoys making friends with taxi drivers and airplane neighbors, tasting new beers, hiking new hills, traveling to new places, and to revisit my 14-17 year old self felt uncomfortable...a less interesting, less knowledgeable, less ME me. But isn't that true of everyone? Silly noob.

White teacher.

With the ruling last night on the Ferguson case, I am deeply disheartened. But I am also inspired to engage in conversations that matter to me, to analyze and reflect and be thoughtful about how EDUCATION is one of the most important keys to inspiring change. Teaching, to me, is a very political act. We take our beliefs, our understandings, and of course our pedagogy and knowledge and impart them to students. We of course aim to remain objective and unbiased, to present all sides, to be fair and nonjudgmental. But we are people with agendas and beliefs...and those are bound to come out in one way or another. For one teacher, it may be an intolerance for the word "heck." For another, it might be absolutely not okay to ever eat in the classroom. These are within realms of normal, but are based on a lived experience of the teacher; what he or she perceives to be acceptable or not.
While many times I feel as if I'm not conveying ANY information (what am I if not honest?) to my Kinders...what comes out sounds very much like the muck in my brain, mixed together as their bright eyes stare at me (or at the piece of string or shoelace in their hand), I do have an agenda in the classroom. (That makes me sound deviant or inappropriate...I hope that's not the case.) But my agenda is to spread kindness...to teach children to be kind and indiscriminating (this is very difficult when patience is low...), to be strong and problem solvers, but also to be anti-racists, anti-homophobic, anti-classist members of our society.
There is a sensitive place here. Am I going to deny children their religious beliefs? Of course not. But will I talk again and again about same-sex parents and normalize it? OF COURSE. Will I provide examples of people of color who have made incredible impacts on this world, and provide children's books that picture people of color...not JUST FOR Black History month, but ALL the time? Of course I will. Will I work to bash stereotypes by opening dialogue even with small children, on gender roles, race issues, etc.? YES. I'm not so great at it yet...I'm still getting down this whole Kindergarten thing, but I have a DUTY as a privileged citizen to spread awareness of non-vanilla ideas. If it's okay for teachers to teach an altered, cherry-on-top version of the first Thanksgiving, Christopher Columbus, etc. etc, then it must be okay for me to bring up the other side. To perspective take. To think critically and deeply. Like I said, I still don't know exactly what this looks like in Kindergarten...but I do feel triumphant when by the end of the school my students KNOW there are no girl and boy colors in our classroom. That boys can have long hair too and that's not "gross". That everyone has different skin colors, and we don't have to pretend we're all the same, because we're all beautiful and difference is BEAUTIFUL. And while I understand the sentiment that we're all the same on the inside...I don't really think that's true either. Our experiences and knowledge and feelings and synapses all make up who we are on the inside...and all those are different, and that's GOOD. I want my students to be more than tolerant, I want them to be self-aware and critical not just of their learning but of themselves, of their surroundings, of the history we're taught, of the injustices so many face. I want them to understand this world is beautiful, but it's flawed. I want them to listen to a superbly well-educated supreme court attorney, and not eat up his words because he says all the buzz words and is well spoken, but listens to the content of his message and uses all their prior knowledge and perspective taking of history to realize how UNJUST this is.
I don't think I'm going to accomplish all this in one Kindergarten classroom. In fact, it's honestly difficult for me to get all my students to grade level in reading/math/etc. I don't know if it's going to be me...in fact it likely won't be. But I'm a piece of a system of educators, and I hope that others see teaching as a deeply political act. Not to save the world, but to maybe prevent some tragedies like this one; to advocate for justice.