Perhaps due to my newly discovered closet love of writing or my need to feel productive, yet at the same time, find time to relax, I have been very consistent with my blog up until now. Usually, at one point every weekend, after a ridiculously long day of working, I have haulted midpoint and reasoned with myself I need to stop and take time to reflect on the crazy whirlwind that my life has become. Also, I need to inform the people who stubbornly (or perhaps loyally) insist on maintaining friendship despite my virtual nonexistence in their lives, I reason to myself halfheartedly, really just desiring a reason to put away the lesson plans. But this weekend I hit a wall. I had no desire to write, no desire to reflect, nothing. I was just exhausted and bitter and tired. It all stemmed from a less than successful day of teaching Friday, which carried over into a bit of the blues over the weekend that did not cease until a better teaching day Monday.
One realization I am coming to is that my current life happiness is inextricably linked with the progress and successes of my students. When C comes back from the weekend angry and violent, I find myself feeling hopeless and defeated. When M still cannot tell me red versus pink, I doubt my abilities as not just a teacher, but a human being, silly as it sounds. On the flip side, when T makes it through a day without any temper tantrums, I foolishly walk with my chest held higher, confident in my ability to make a real difference. When E sits with me after school and not only tells me almost all the letter names, but multiple words that start with each letter, including the names of other people in the class, I drive home smiling as if I just singlehandedly changed the world. These are exaggerations of course, but somewhere between the hyperboles, lies the deafening fact that I love my children so much that I refuse to let them fail at my hands. I feel like I am in tunnel vision right now, desiring only for significant and substantial growth academically and socially by June. I have a vision of the end of the tunnel, but I find myself questioning the validity of the paths I am taking at times.
Sometimes I am so caught in my own tunnel vision that I forget the tremendous life difficulties of my students. Four years old and already, so many of my kids have faced more life traumatic events that I have ever or will ever face. Perhaps because I grew weary of never eating lunch during the day due to a lack of a lunch break or because I wanted to use the ever enticing bribe of "Ms. Knipp will eat lunch with a table that is sitting quietly" as a classroom management technique, I began sitting down with my own lunch at the prime time of 10:45 with my kids to eat. Whatever the cause, it is one of the best decisions I ever made. Not only do I have a chance to help my students learn how to communicate effectively (i.e. we do not talk while another person is talking), review GLEs (i.e. what color is your milk?) and build relationships (my kids are absolutely FASCINATED by my inevitable lunch of Cheez Its and a peanut butter sandwich), but it is eye opening to the struggles faced daily by my kids. It breaks my heart when C brings up at lunch that his daddy is in jail and it shatters more fully when another student, J, wholeheartedly bursts out, "My daddy too! He used to hit mommy!" Then as C begins to describe how when his daddy and mommy used to fight, he would jump in the middle, I quietly explain that it is important that we can share what happens at home, but we should talk about something else during lunch, holding back the desire to just hold my kids and let them talk or cry or do whatever they need to do, knowing at this point in time, I have to make sure the other students are not subject to hearing about life traumas no four year old should experience. Time and a place I believe they say. When on the rug, Tr and C talk about how their daddies died, I am overcome with sadness, trying to imagine growing up my entire life without a dad. Life is rough for my four year olds.
During dramatic play, when Tr exclaims to the other kids, "The police are coming, everyone get down!" I immediately hold back reflexive giggles at the hilarity that later in the night turn into melancholy reflections at the sad truth that that sentence means something to a four year old. In the moment, I calmly explain that the police do not come to the dramatic play center, we just practice cooking and eating pretend food. Ten seconds later, as Tr boasts, "Time for a house party ya'll" I catch myself again in an odd paradox between refreshing laughter and somber reflection at the origin of the exclamation, once again clarifying that dramatic play is not a place for house parties. The tone then switches to throwing a party at Chuck E Cheese, which I praise with relief and later, as Tr yells out the names of her classmates and pretend writes, I ask Tr if she is writing a guest list for those who can attend, only to be told, "No Ms. Knipp, this is the no recess list", humbling me at my own influence in her life.
Pre K students are sponges. Literally sponges. Unfortunately, some of my students came in well acquainted with curse words and obscenity. Now, it is common occurrence that I am writing a note home to parents about a child saying the F bomb or flipping the bird and I hesitate, but realistically admit they probably learned it from another student. On the flip side, my students are learning. Learning lessons I try to teach, learning lessons I inadvertently teach and learning things I never intended to teach. Learning subconsciously and mostly accidently, when I start a sentence, "I really appreciate that....." they better get in criss cross applesauce because I am scanning the room for someone to praise. Learning purposefully how to count, shapes, sorting, letters, names, how to interact, independence and more. Learning ironically, my mannerisms, way of speaking and more and mimicking me with hilarious accuracy.
So I guess the point of all those tangents is one of the major realizations I have had is that my students learn so much just from modeling themselves after me. As my students have modeled themselves after their parents, brothers, sisters and other life influencers, I am now one of those influencers. If I yell at my kids all day long, take away their recess, snack and every privilege under the sun they will still love me so wholly because they are four and they are made to love. Every word I say they cling to like gold. Ask any of my kids what my favorite day of the week is, I assure you they will say Friday. Case in point- last week for our families unit we made a book of our drawings of our families and shared about them. The book was placed in the library section. I shared that my brother Andy was one of my best friends and that we liked to spend time together listening to music when I modeled sharing to my kids. Later, C brought me the book from the library and asked me to show him which one was Andy (yes he used his first name--two days later). Take away message? My life (and what I allow my students to see of my life) is a lesson in itself. It does not matter what kind of person I am, they will take a piece of me when they form their own little personalities, morals and ethics more fully (although at times, it is hard to believe their personalities are not already fully developed!) What I am teaching them by being me? Am I letting my frustrations during the day turn my positive behavior narration into last resort punishments? Am I subconsciously communicating to my students any disbelief in their ability academically or behaviorally? Am I modeling in my own interactions with them, the student I want them to be at the end of the year? Food for self reflection.
I am quite certain this came out as a collection of some amusing, some disheartening and let's face it-absolutely cute stories about my students instead of a revelation, as it feels to me. But I hope some part of this post shed some kind of light into the difficulties and opportunities I have as a Pre K teacher in a low income community. I cannot wait for the rewards which I cannot help but believe will come of academic and social maturity in each and every one of my students. In the mean time, I must reflect on my end goal and whether or not my lessons (both planned and inherent) are aligned.
Until next time.
"Every reform needs examples more than advocates" -John Kerry
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