No time for introductions or fancy prose. Too much to say....
Monday the letters went home telling the parents about the move. We were instructed to NOT reach out to parents until Thursday when our CEO would be at the school holding a meeting, but you all know I am not one for patience, so I strategically stayed late at school hoping parents would approach me, or called families for other reasons (field trip chaperone confirmation, great test scores) and waited for them to bring it up, just to gauge interest. Parents generally confirmed three feelings a) the distance was rough b) the size made them uneasy and c) at least I would still be with them. By Thursday, my most apprehensive parents went to the meeting and besides personally feeling as though the meeting was more a PR move than genuine helpful or empathetic transfer of information, my most apprehensive parents were more on board with it by the end. I am more hopeful now than I was last week that I will retain my class.
My emotions were up and down all week long. Some days I was so optimistic and excited for my new resources, a chance to revamp some classroom systems through the move and just the excitement of starting over, another adventure. Some days my attitude was extremely cynical (I'll let your mind wander into the thoughts I was having), but one positive that came from this week was the support I felt from parents. My kids parents adore me. Really. I always criticized myself a bit for not spending more time reaching out to parents. Some other teachers I know call parents once a week with a positive about their student, some teachers plan parent events constantly and get to know them beyond the connection of the student. With the craziness that has been my first year, I have had to triage parent contact into what is sustainable and practical and it has resulted in daily communication via the homework folder (just behavior scores and sometimes very brief comments), two field trips with over 5 chaperones each, a couple phone calls/parent conferences when students are cutting up in school, one parent night, one report card conference day and lots of informal communication when parents bring in or drop off their students. Honestly, this is an area of deficiency for me.
With this in mind, I think I was surprised at how insistent parents were that I stay with their students. Honestly as a white 21 year old woman working in the ninth ward of New Orleans, you always anticipate that you are going to have to overcome negative images and perceptions from parents and therefore are going to have to go above and beyond in the field of relationships with families in order to squash any negativity. But for some reason, my parents love me. So many parents pulled me aside and said variations of my student is learning so much, you have been such a wonderful teacher, my student talks about you constantly, this is such a great atmosphere, I can't lose you as a teacher. Being myself, I know that I love their kids more than I love my right arm and spend absolutely absurd amounts of time planning, preparing and reflecting on perfecting my instruction and management for their kids. I know that my arm blew up to four times the size it was before when C scratched me hard and the wound got infected, but I still would raise C as my own in a heartbeat. I know that while I am not an experienced teacher or notably fantastic, I am at least giving my students my life in some sort of effort to make up for my inadequacies and the inadequacies life has served them up to this point. But I did not know my parents knew this. I mean to some extent, my parents do not know this fully, but this week has shown me that they sincerely know I am in this for real, not as a way to pay bills or boost my resume or pass the time, but I am in it to make real academic gains. One mom shed some light with me when she said, "You know I go to this church here and my student stays after school at the nursery and I see you sneaking in on Saturdays and Sundays and I see you here at 6pm and you do not look like you are leaving anytime soon", she continued, "You know everyone at the church just talks about how hard you work and how you are here all the time and my student has learned so much from you. He sits at home and says, '/b/ backyard, that's b! /f/ fence, that's f!' all day long. That is why I don't care where you move the class, as long as my student is with you, I'm staying."
Feel good moment. Granted, I do not deserve this level of praise. I know that there is SO much more I could be doing and my physical exhaustion and to be frank, selfishness, on some days prevents it from getting done. I know I lack experience and have so many areas to improve and I will not even say that my students are better off with me than they would be with another teacher because I do not know that. But, what I do know is I CARE and it is nice for someone to acknowledge the fact that I do care, probably an unhealthy amount. So maybe actions really do speak louder than words sometimes.
With the bloated self esteem aside from parent sentiments, let's move onto the hard data. My end of the year goal is for 100% (all 20) of my students to be at a pre-read level on the STEP test. Basically it is a reading test, that if you pass, qualifies you as "pre-read" or kinder ready in literacy and if you fail, qualifies you as "before pre-read" or below kinder in literacy. But I have until May to make this a reality in my classroom. This is such an important goal, as 95% of the kinder students in our school came in at the before pre-read level or under grade level this year. That means already at the Kinder level, the Kinder teachers are required to produce more than a year of growth in only one year in order to "catch students up". I know I am getting technical, but bare with me . So we had our students take the test for the first time to see how close they were passing the Pre-Read, their areas of improvement, what they already know, etc. FIVE OF MY STUDENTS PASSED! 25% of my class has reached their end goal in literacy at this point in time, less than half way through the year. Now, I feel as though I can only take credit for one of the scores fully, as four of the five who passed came into the year knowing a lot, especially compared to the rest of the class. Granted, they would not have been at a passing level on a day one, but getting them there did not take long. The other one of the five however, I am going to brag about because that little girl came in knowing nothing. I was honestly shocked when the other Pre-K teacher who tested her (we test each other's kids to reduce bias) told me she passed.
This is what I am more proud of: alphabet knowledge! My students came in knowing NO letters. Seriously, letters were like foreign objects to my kiddos. I'm not talking letter sounds, or writing letters, I'm saying they looked at letter A and then looked at me blank, unable to connect verbally that that was letter "a". On the STEP test, we test 54 letters (all 26 uppercase, 26 lowercase, typed a (as opposed to the typical a) and typed g (as opposed to the traditional g). To pass the test, you have to know 15 letters. My quarter goal was knowing 20 letters and my end of the year goal is to know 40+ letters. 95% of my students, or all but one knew 20+ letters. Many were closer to the 30s or 40s in how many letters they knew. My one student who did not know 20 only knew 6, so she is a huge concern for me, but I will get her there too.
I know this is a weird one to be proud of, as letters seem pretty easy to teach, but they are so significant. Some prisons use 3rd grade reading scores in communities to plan for how many beds they will need in the future (AOI Business Viewpoint, July-August 2006). I have known this for a long time and this has motivated me in so many ways. However, what I learned recently in a professional development (and I apologize for no citation-perhaps she made it up) is that the NUMBER ONE predictor of 3rd grade reading scores is as plain and simple alphabet knowledge. Not sounds, not writing, just verbally being able to see a and say, "a". The more letters students know, the more likely they are to read on level in the future.
So, I am going to get them there. Plain and simple. I have had progress that I am proud of, but it is not time to stop yet.
On a less exciting note, some more people have been drinking the Hannah Haterade. Despite my immense growths in self image due to positive parent feedback and great test results, I still got some haters out there (sorry Roger, I know you don't like the term haters, but I do). Unfortunately, the new school I am being integrated into is being a little negative towards us, as we discovered at our district wide professional development. Not realizing I was from the school, I overheard my future coworkers talking about my current school and how the only reason we got such great test scores (our students started out LOWER than the other three schools in our district in all grades, but are now almost caught up or higher than the other three schools in literacy) was because we were small and it must be NICE to be so small. Biting my tongue, I didn't retort about our lack of resources, being displaced half way through the year, our absolutely exceptional behavior issues or starting from literally nothing, but just took a breath and knew we would prove them wrong. Also, more upsetting, I was speaking with one of the Pre-K teachers at the school I am going to and casually talking about how I have ridiculous behavior problems in my class and she would get to know my loves quick. Instead of laughing with me about how ridiculous my problems are (seriously-who gets clawed and bit in their daily job who is not a vet), she said, "Oh we had behavior problems at the beginning of the year, but we fixed that in the first two weeks of school. B (referring to the other veteran Pre-K teacher) will fix your kids too." I know for a FACT that my students have come a LONG way behaviorally, but yet again, my kids started off low behaviorally. Just like our school was lower academically, our poverty and societal stressors are even more intense than the other schools. I mean I work in the ninth ward. Granted, I do not want to sound petty, all the schools in my district work with families from essentially the roughest and toughest parts of New Orleans, the state and the country to be transparent. But from talking to B, the woman who my co-worker insisted will "fix" my kids, she said flat out that they got lucky this year and really do not have exceptional behavior problems. The administrative assistant at my new school said flat out, oh you are the teacher who teaches T and C, I have heard you are doing a great job with them! because my students are so infamous not just in our tiny school, but in the entire district. I am not complaining because I know I love T and C most likely more than my other kiddos, but I was not dealt an easy card this year. So maybe I am being shallow and trashy, but it legitimately angered me to have my future co-worker imply that I was the problem with their behavior, when I know they have both improved tremendously since day one. And excuse me, but they do NOT need to be fixed because while they have tremendous problems, they are not broken.
So yeah, the haters are at it again. Drinking the haterade. But I am going to try not to be bitter. This teacher who said this to me is a first year teacher as well and honestly, is probably just apprehensive about having two more pre-k teachers come over to her neck of the woods. She has only been a teacher for one year, so she does not realize that some classes are legitimately just rougher than others. I learned this lesson quick as my class curses and fights constantly and the other Pre-K class at my school has been quiet and shy from day one. Classes just have different personalities and manifest themselves in different ways. My other pre-k teacher has trouble keeping her kids awake and enticing them to interact with their peers, as they are incredibly timid and shy as a class. I have trouble getting mine to sleep and they love to talk about Chuckie or prison or how they had to switch bus stops because people kept getting shot there. I only have one girl who is even semi shy. As my para always says, "Our kids are not four. They are grown up men and women." And it is true. Our kids are from the same neighborhood and go to the same school, but for some reasons, they are two different groups of kids. Just the way life works. So this new pre-k teacher will see. Hopefully B will be able to help me, as in all honesty, I do need help with my special cases. I am not narcissistic enough to say otherwise. But I will not let the other pre-k teacher make me feel inadequate or like I am the problem (although she did succeed in making me question myself for a good two days), when I know that this year, it was just the luck of the draw and I was lucky enough to pull the kids with the most intense of behavior problems, which in all honesty, is exactly what I wanted. I may have the hardest kids, but they need me the most and have the most room to grow.
So I know that post was SO long. I am sorry. But I had major events happen this week and needed the reflection of an empty text box to sort out my emotions. Hope you enjoyed the read and keep my kids in your thoughts.
"Education is the ability to listen to almost anything without losing your temper or your self-confidence" -Robert Frost
Saturday, November 19, 2011
Friday, November 11, 2011
Dramatic Irony
Well, the inevitable happened--that is life gave me a little unexpected push and now I have to see if I will stand or fall. Things were going really well, my kids were rocking their academic work, behavior was under control (taken in context of course), I was happy and adjusted and still working a lot, but I felt really effective and like my force exerted was somewhat equal to the weight of the product. So today, when I walked upstairs to my informal school PD meeting, my mind was wandering to my to-do list, my weekend plans and the other insubstantial grains of existence that pollute the mind in downtime. As narcissistic as this absolutely sounds, sometimes I like to imagine this moment as a small scene in a work of fiction, where the readers all know what is about to happen, but the main character is completely oblivious--a little dramatic irony. I took a seat and as my principal began to form words and sentences, I thought to myself that I wished the chair was more comfortable and the air less chilly. However, those thoughts did not cross my mind again when these words escaped her mouth, "Our school is closing in December"
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(Now please entertain me as I overly dramatize this event and use hyperbolic language to recreate the event in a way that somehow comforts my now hurting body and soul.)
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It was like a near death experience in some ways. I thought back to the first weekend before the school opened, walking into the building with my principal one late afternoon to see a completely empty, less than impressive and seemingly massive building with the clear expectation that by Monday, it would be our school. It terrified me then. Such a large classroom, I had no idea how I would fill it with activities and children and lessons to fill such a long day and as far as I could tell, the playground did not exist. That weekend went by so quickly, I scavenged for the absolute barest of essentials, some wall decor, chairs, a rug, desks, anything to make this look like a school. By Monday I had something, but it felt like nothing.
As the weeks went on and I was able to exhale for the first time in a long while (probably mid-August), I have memories of staying at the school until 7, 8, 9 pm every single night, spending hours setting up outdoor hall decorations, creating centers from scratch, going back and adding order and systems to the original hodge podge that was my class. The church deacons knew me by my other name, that Pre-K workaholic who constantly begs us for just five more minutes.
I thought about that morning in September when the police escorted me out of my own place of work for setting off the building alarm because I was dumb enough to come into work on a Saturday morning during a tropical storm and over Labor Day weekend. But I just had to work to do, I had to finish the classroom that was never really set up in July.
My mind wandered to every nook and cranny in the building that I know like not even as my second home, but as my first home. I know the hole in the wall that J loves to stick his finger in. I know the unattached and surely hazardous large pole of wires that T loves to pull on when his tantrums reach their height. I know the birthday display in the hallway that inevitably results in at least three of my kids falling down the stairs from staring at the pictures of themselves. The same display that I have fallen down looking at on the weekends when I am at school alone, wondering if my kids are safe and healthy at home.
I remembered the days when my entire staff walked all over the lower ninth ward passing out fliers for our school to get more first, second and kinder students enrolled so that we would not be shut down. I remember how I was actually not invited because my coworkers were not so subtly trying to set me up with a summer intern and requested I stay behind with him and the remaining students. That one sure feels ironic now.
I love my school. Sure we don't have a janitor, but just a lady who mops about once a week. Sure we don't have a playground, but instead a giant field that frequently fills with sewage. Sure we don't have internet or adult toilets or even appropriately sized chairs for my students. We lacked in so many ways, but it was my home, my comfort, my family in New Orleans. We were small, understaffed and lacking resources, but our kids were learning, our families appreciated our work and we were doing some great things in our small little corner of the church building.
Okay, so obviously all these thoughts didn't pass my mind between, "Our school is closing" and the follow up sentences explaining what would happen next, but does it not sound so poetic when I pretend it did?
So here is the result. My principal will be co-principal at one school in our charter and the Kinder teacher will take her class there as well. The 1st/2nd teacher will become an interventionist at the same school--her kids will be spread out among different teachers. The Pre-K team will move with our two Pre-K classes to the other school in our charter. Obviously, parents do not have to keep their kids in the school; however, there are no other Pre-K classes open at the time, so I hope and pray I will get to keep my kids.
So yes, I am being dramatic for no reason, I realize. I have a job. I have my students. So why complain? However, I have what I feel are relevant worries. It took so long for me to build my classroom and now I am faced with the task of transferring it. My children need consistency and I worry about what will happen to them with these big changes. I love my coworkers and I hate that half of my team, including my leader will be displaced. I think the hardest part though is that we are losing that small school feeling. I know the name of every single student in my school, who is related to whom and I have a general sense of where they are academically. It is inevitable in such a small school for this to happen.
But there are upsides. My kids will have resources (computers, playgrounds, janitors, behavior interventionists, so many unknown pleasures!), I will meet more hopefully awesome coworkers, I will be able to go to my school WHENEVER, not just when the church is open, it is closer to Wal-Mart (I know that sentence seems to lack class, but Wal-Mart is my one stop shop) and there are many more resources for teachers too. So it will be okay.
Today though, I will mourn. I will cry and yell and show all sorts of emotions I seldom display because today it hurts. In December on my probable 50th car load back and forth from school to school, I will curse and hate the world. In January, when my students discover all sorts of new ways to act out and lose focus in the big school, I will shake my fist and say I told you so. But in the end, I will not fall, I will just make do. Just like how we transformed our little corner of the church building from a empty, freshly waxed floor to a lively and engaging series of classrooms, I will take this change in stride. Because at the end of the day, no matter what curveballs life decides to throw to me (or at me), I will not give up on my kids. I will be their consistency and stability when life refuses to hold them upright. I will.
"It's a lack of faith that makes people afraid of meeting challenges. And I believed in myself." -Muhammad Ali
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(Now please entertain me as I overly dramatize this event and use hyperbolic language to recreate the event in a way that somehow comforts my now hurting body and soul.)
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...
It was like a near death experience in some ways. I thought back to the first weekend before the school opened, walking into the building with my principal one late afternoon to see a completely empty, less than impressive and seemingly massive building with the clear expectation that by Monday, it would be our school. It terrified me then. Such a large classroom, I had no idea how I would fill it with activities and children and lessons to fill such a long day and as far as I could tell, the playground did not exist. That weekend went by so quickly, I scavenged for the absolute barest of essentials, some wall decor, chairs, a rug, desks, anything to make this look like a school. By Monday I had something, but it felt like nothing.
As the weeks went on and I was able to exhale for the first time in a long while (probably mid-August), I have memories of staying at the school until 7, 8, 9 pm every single night, spending hours setting up outdoor hall decorations, creating centers from scratch, going back and adding order and systems to the original hodge podge that was my class. The church deacons knew me by my other name, that Pre-K workaholic who constantly begs us for just five more minutes.
I thought about that morning in September when the police escorted me out of my own place of work for setting off the building alarm because I was dumb enough to come into work on a Saturday morning during a tropical storm and over Labor Day weekend. But I just had to work to do, I had to finish the classroom that was never really set up in July.
My mind wandered to every nook and cranny in the building that I know like not even as my second home, but as my first home. I know the hole in the wall that J loves to stick his finger in. I know the unattached and surely hazardous large pole of wires that T loves to pull on when his tantrums reach their height. I know the birthday display in the hallway that inevitably results in at least three of my kids falling down the stairs from staring at the pictures of themselves. The same display that I have fallen down looking at on the weekends when I am at school alone, wondering if my kids are safe and healthy at home.
I remembered the days when my entire staff walked all over the lower ninth ward passing out fliers for our school to get more first, second and kinder students enrolled so that we would not be shut down. I remember how I was actually not invited because my coworkers were not so subtly trying to set me up with a summer intern and requested I stay behind with him and the remaining students. That one sure feels ironic now.
I love my school. Sure we don't have a janitor, but just a lady who mops about once a week. Sure we don't have a playground, but instead a giant field that frequently fills with sewage. Sure we don't have internet or adult toilets or even appropriately sized chairs for my students. We lacked in so many ways, but it was my home, my comfort, my family in New Orleans. We were small, understaffed and lacking resources, but our kids were learning, our families appreciated our work and we were doing some great things in our small little corner of the church building.
Okay, so obviously all these thoughts didn't pass my mind between, "Our school is closing" and the follow up sentences explaining what would happen next, but does it not sound so poetic when I pretend it did?
So here is the result. My principal will be co-principal at one school in our charter and the Kinder teacher will take her class there as well. The 1st/2nd teacher will become an interventionist at the same school--her kids will be spread out among different teachers. The Pre-K team will move with our two Pre-K classes to the other school in our charter. Obviously, parents do not have to keep their kids in the school; however, there are no other Pre-K classes open at the time, so I hope and pray I will get to keep my kids.
So yes, I am being dramatic for no reason, I realize. I have a job. I have my students. So why complain? However, I have what I feel are relevant worries. It took so long for me to build my classroom and now I am faced with the task of transferring it. My children need consistency and I worry about what will happen to them with these big changes. I love my coworkers and I hate that half of my team, including my leader will be displaced. I think the hardest part though is that we are losing that small school feeling. I know the name of every single student in my school, who is related to whom and I have a general sense of where they are academically. It is inevitable in such a small school for this to happen.
But there are upsides. My kids will have resources (computers, playgrounds, janitors, behavior interventionists, so many unknown pleasures!), I will meet more hopefully awesome coworkers, I will be able to go to my school WHENEVER, not just when the church is open, it is closer to Wal-Mart (I know that sentence seems to lack class, but Wal-Mart is my one stop shop) and there are many more resources for teachers too. So it will be okay.
Today though, I will mourn. I will cry and yell and show all sorts of emotions I seldom display because today it hurts. In December on my probable 50th car load back and forth from school to school, I will curse and hate the world. In January, when my students discover all sorts of new ways to act out and lose focus in the big school, I will shake my fist and say I told you so. But in the end, I will not fall, I will just make do. Just like how we transformed our little corner of the church building from a empty, freshly waxed floor to a lively and engaging series of classrooms, I will take this change in stride. Because at the end of the day, no matter what curveballs life decides to throw to me (or at me), I will not give up on my kids. I will be their consistency and stability when life refuses to hold them upright. I will.
"It's a lack of faith that makes people afraid of meeting challenges. And I believed in myself." -Muhammad Ali
Saturday, November 5, 2011
Send Encouragement
I must preface that this post will be less than the tried, but optimistic and hopeful posts I usually dish out like a "As seen on TV" product. I might not highlight the rare but meaningful stories of success sandwiched between the overarching trial that is my job at the moment and show the arbitrary glimpses of incredible self-assurances in my ability to overcome. Today, I have to let some of my insecurities surface.
This morning I woke up at the unearthly 7am after collapsing into bed at the less than impressive 10:30pm. Perhaps it was from the exhaustion of a really hard week coupled with having entirely too much fun the weekend previous, but for the first time in awhile, Friday night was just not happening for me. So this morning, I woke up feeling compelled to be creative, to write a blog, to create some mediocre poetry, to appreciate the beauty of hardship around every corner. But instead, I drug myself to school, only to find it locked. Drug myself to my favorite coffee shop to work, only to realize I left my money at home. Then drug myself home, only to discover I could not work until I debriefed my current situation. So here goes nothing.
I feel so desperate over T. For those of you who know me well, you know right now, T is the crux of my existence. From the first day of school until right now, I have spent hours talking to his mother, his grandmother, his father and the nursery worker who is housed in the same building who has been working with him since infancy. I have spent nights tossing and turning about my failures with him thus far and my doubts that I will not be able to redirect his seemingly inevitable path. I have tried method after method to tame the beast, so to speak and have only seen short and brief glimpses of semi-success, always overpowered by a quick reversal to old ways. I remember distinctly on the first day of school, the nursery worker said, "It took us six months to get him under control" and I remember talking with my para saying, "Well, let's give ourselves three." I hate to say it, but my three months are up and the progress is little to none. The worst part is, he is second to last in my class academically due entirely to his behavior and shows no sign of progress anytime soon. I hope you realize I am not exaggerating when I say how much time I spend dreaming and scheming about this boy.
So for those of you who may not know the tendencies of T, let me paint you a short profile. Here is a typical day with T. He comes into my classroom and immediately walks to something he is not supposed to do before putting away his backpack (i.e. centers, another child, attempting to take three cereals) saying inevitably something along the lines of, "I go to Chuck E Cheese" (I know it is weird, but literally it is all the kid talks about). I calmly talk him down from whatever is tempting him at the moment and some days, he will go put away his bag and get breakfast quietly. He then either eats breakfast quietly or the tantrums start. He either decides he does not want what we are serving, refusing to eat, but screaming loudly if we take away what he was given. Or perhaps he decides to start punching or yelling at another child at his table until we have to make him eat alone. Then the tantrums really start, bearing the similar pattern, with phrases being screamed such as, "Leave me alone!" "No" or my personal favorite, "You are getting on my nerves". If he is really angry at this point, he begins to run around the classroom, laughing and screaming for about 10-15 minutes. Once down from that high, he eats breakfast and then it is time for centers. We tell him he cannot have centers because of his conduct and another tantrum follows suit. Then it is time to go the rug and someone is the sharer of the day. He then throws a tantrum every 19 out of 20 days when it is not his turn. Then he wanders around the classroom for the remaining 25 minutes of rug time, knowing full well he will not get centers. Then centers comes and due to his wandering, he does not get centers. Hence another tantrum. Eventually he cools down from the tantrum and about half the days, he makes it to the tail end of centers and then keeps it cool for music and calender time, the other half he does not, depending on if he has calmed down. Then we have another set of centers and groups and that is his group time. During group time, he inevitably screams that he is not at centers, so he is the last to pick his color of manipulatives, as I let the kids who sit quietly pick first. He then throws a tantrum if someone else gets orange (literally orange is the only thing he seems to be invested in) and then I tell him he cannot play at all until he stops screaming. He then throws another tantrum and then eventually realizes he can play if he just calms down and usually is back for the last 3-5 minutes of the small group lesson. Journal (the other small group) typically goes well. Although you never know with T. Then we have bathroom break (which is ALWAYS silent) because the kids know if they talk, it is five minutes of their recess. T always speaks during bathroom break (and he is the only one who has multiple chances during bathroom break, but he still runs through all of them in less than 2 minutes), resulting in five minutes of recess being taken away and then throws another tantrum. We tell him he cannot eat lunch until he calms down from the tantrum and usually after the other kids have been eating for about 10 minutes, he is ready to eat. Sometimes he still refuses to eat because he is upset it is not pizza, until we tell the kids it is time to throw away their food, then he will begin to shove it down reluctantly. Then we go to recess, which he does not get for being ridiculous the entire day and he is the only kid to NOT touch and hold during recess, resulting in him never being released from time out, when all the other kids do their time and move on. Even though he always should miss all of recess, we tell him if he can touch and hold against the wall, we will let him have the last five minutes. It never happens. If it does, he then throws a tantrum when recess is over and sometimes runs out the gate in an attempt to stay longer. Then we come in from recess and half the time, he is so tired, he will sit through story time quietly. The other half, he has tantrums because he was not picked on to volunteer, he is still mad about recess or just because he is having a bad day. We then have nap and it goes one of two ways. Some days he sleeps. Best days ever. Other days, he gets up and runs around the classroom (i.e. on top of tables, on top of centers, running on kids heads who are asleep) until my para and I work together to catch him and hold him down. He then screams really loudly his favorite phrases ("Leave me alone!" "No!" and again my favorite, "You are getting on my nerves") until he eventually gets tired and falls asleep. After nap, it goes one of two ways again. He either wakes up rested and goes to eat his snack without much ado. If this happens, the rest of the day is perfect. He eats his snack, he sits through lesson quietly and enjoys centers the rest of the day. Or he wakes up angry, throws a tantrum, snack gets taken away, he misses the lesson and gets centers taken away, resulting in complete chaos until 3. However, even on the days the afternoons go well, the day always ends on a negative note, as a tantrum ensues at 3pm every day when he does not get announced the Superstar of the Day (with the exception of once out of every twenty days). And that is T.
I should explain what his tantrums look like, just to fully illustrate. Hitting. Lots of hitting. Other kids, me, my para, anyone. Running. Lots of running. Running in the parking lot, the classroom, out the classroom, down the hall. Yelling and screaming. Lots of yelling and screaming. Yelling his key phrases and literally screaming just so that the other kids cannot hear my teaching or instructions. And occasionally, destroying. Lots of destroying. Grabbing every single box in my centers and throwing them on the floor. Tearing things off my wall. And the list goes on. The newest tantrum he had this week involved going onto my rug and peeing his pants on purpose all over the rug. Then laughing.
Out of fairness, I should say some positive things about him. He is the most loving kid ever. When he does calm down, he says sorry very sincerely (although usually after coaxing) and gives you the sweetest hug in the world. He loves his baby sister a lot and when he is not having a tantrum (so about 10% of the day), he is actually a very well behaved and calm student. He loves to participate and every once in awhile, he even shows some empathy and caring to the other kids in the class (i.e. when another one cries, saying, "it's okay" and patting their back. His parents are really invested in his behavior and are really working hard with us to try to get it under control. I mean, his mom comes constantly to watch him and when she does not come, we always discuss the day. So there are some positives, but sometimes it is hard to remember.
I realize how incredibly negative and non strength focused this post sounds. Part of me hates myself for writing it and the other part of me has to get it out somehow. I am running out of ideas with this child. The only times he ever behaves is when he gets his way, when his parents sit in on class (and take him into the bathroom and beat him if he does even one thing wrong) and that is about it. And when his parents leave, he immediately throws a tantrum or misbehaves more than his usual, as if to spite us for bringing in family. I literally talk with his mom at least 4 times a week and she observes him about 2-3 times a week, sometimes for the entire day. I take videos of him during his tantrums and show both his mother and make him watch it. We talk constantly about good choices and bad choices and I try so hard to keep my tone positive with him, even when I want to cry. He gets so many second and third and twentieth tries and I give him more attention easily than anyone else in the entire class. Maybe my entire life. I call on him immediately when he is behaving and brag on his good choices all the time, but it is not enough. I tried a check in check out system with him for every five minutes for the entire first three months of school, but I think it is time to admit, it just did not work. It worked wonders for C, my other little once terror, now fairly under control love, but for T it is just not working. The nursery teacher suggested I am harsher with him, told me to yell at him, growl at him, do whatever I have to do, but I do not believe that is the answer. Sometimes she takes him out of class, but he always comes back eating skittles and smiling, so I am not sure what she is doing is working. And he cringes and flinches when his parents gesture at him, knowing he what is coming and I do not think that is right. I am not saying I am against spanking or that his parents are bad, in fact, I think they both love him a lot. I am just saying, whatever is going on at home, it is not working as evident in his behavior at school.
I do not believe this child needs anymore yelling or hitting in his life. His family punishes him with yelling and hitting and I believe that is where he learned these horrible behaviors. But because of it, that is literally the only thing he responds to, violence and screams. And even if I screamed at him, I think he would still act up because he knows I will never hit him. But I do not know what to do. I love this child so much (although my post might suggest otherwise), I assure you I do. But I just do not know what to do. If I cannot get him under control, he is going to go to Kindergarten academically behind and a behavioral nightmare. At this point, I would suggest another year of Pre-K, but it is impossible to hold back a child in Pre-K and so my time is running out. I do not think he needs an evaluation or medication, because I have seen glimpses of a studious and well behaved boy in between the tantrums and I think his behavior is learned, not inherent. If I can get him under control, I believe I can catch him up academically (because he does learn fast when he is sitting still and not screaming) and I am sure next year, the transition will be easy. The stakes are so high and I am low on ideas.
My next step. I am working with my principal to set up a meeting with her, my para, our supposed district social worker (I've never met him/her--so I have my doubts) and the family about more positive child rearing techniques. But I just don't know.
So if you have encouragement or suggestions, send it my way because right now, I know I am failing this little child. He is sweet and loveable and very smart, but right now, the only side of him I see is intense anger, destruction and violence. I cannot let him fall between the cracks. I am lacking confidence that I can do it, something I usually do not lack, but I know I care and I know I won't give up, so I hope that is enough. His little future depends on it.
"Unless someone like you cares a whole awful lot, nothing is going to get better. It's not" -Dr. Suess
This morning I woke up at the unearthly 7am after collapsing into bed at the less than impressive 10:30pm. Perhaps it was from the exhaustion of a really hard week coupled with having entirely too much fun the weekend previous, but for the first time in awhile, Friday night was just not happening for me. So this morning, I woke up feeling compelled to be creative, to write a blog, to create some mediocre poetry, to appreciate the beauty of hardship around every corner. But instead, I drug myself to school, only to find it locked. Drug myself to my favorite coffee shop to work, only to realize I left my money at home. Then drug myself home, only to discover I could not work until I debriefed my current situation. So here goes nothing.
I feel so desperate over T. For those of you who know me well, you know right now, T is the crux of my existence. From the first day of school until right now, I have spent hours talking to his mother, his grandmother, his father and the nursery worker who is housed in the same building who has been working with him since infancy. I have spent nights tossing and turning about my failures with him thus far and my doubts that I will not be able to redirect his seemingly inevitable path. I have tried method after method to tame the beast, so to speak and have only seen short and brief glimpses of semi-success, always overpowered by a quick reversal to old ways. I remember distinctly on the first day of school, the nursery worker said, "It took us six months to get him under control" and I remember talking with my para saying, "Well, let's give ourselves three." I hate to say it, but my three months are up and the progress is little to none. The worst part is, he is second to last in my class academically due entirely to his behavior and shows no sign of progress anytime soon. I hope you realize I am not exaggerating when I say how much time I spend dreaming and scheming about this boy.
So for those of you who may not know the tendencies of T, let me paint you a short profile. Here is a typical day with T. He comes into my classroom and immediately walks to something he is not supposed to do before putting away his backpack (i.e. centers, another child, attempting to take three cereals) saying inevitably something along the lines of, "I go to Chuck E Cheese" (I know it is weird, but literally it is all the kid talks about). I calmly talk him down from whatever is tempting him at the moment and some days, he will go put away his bag and get breakfast quietly. He then either eats breakfast quietly or the tantrums start. He either decides he does not want what we are serving, refusing to eat, but screaming loudly if we take away what he was given. Or perhaps he decides to start punching or yelling at another child at his table until we have to make him eat alone. Then the tantrums really start, bearing the similar pattern, with phrases being screamed such as, "Leave me alone!" "No" or my personal favorite, "You are getting on my nerves". If he is really angry at this point, he begins to run around the classroom, laughing and screaming for about 10-15 minutes. Once down from that high, he eats breakfast and then it is time for centers. We tell him he cannot have centers because of his conduct and another tantrum follows suit. Then it is time to go the rug and someone is the sharer of the day. He then throws a tantrum every 19 out of 20 days when it is not his turn. Then he wanders around the classroom for the remaining 25 minutes of rug time, knowing full well he will not get centers. Then centers comes and due to his wandering, he does not get centers. Hence another tantrum. Eventually he cools down from the tantrum and about half the days, he makes it to the tail end of centers and then keeps it cool for music and calender time, the other half he does not, depending on if he has calmed down. Then we have another set of centers and groups and that is his group time. During group time, he inevitably screams that he is not at centers, so he is the last to pick his color of manipulatives, as I let the kids who sit quietly pick first. He then throws a tantrum if someone else gets orange (literally orange is the only thing he seems to be invested in) and then I tell him he cannot play at all until he stops screaming. He then throws another tantrum and then eventually realizes he can play if he just calms down and usually is back for the last 3-5 minutes of the small group lesson. Journal (the other small group) typically goes well. Although you never know with T. Then we have bathroom break (which is ALWAYS silent) because the kids know if they talk, it is five minutes of their recess. T always speaks during bathroom break (and he is the only one who has multiple chances during bathroom break, but he still runs through all of them in less than 2 minutes), resulting in five minutes of recess being taken away and then throws another tantrum. We tell him he cannot eat lunch until he calms down from the tantrum and usually after the other kids have been eating for about 10 minutes, he is ready to eat. Sometimes he still refuses to eat because he is upset it is not pizza, until we tell the kids it is time to throw away their food, then he will begin to shove it down reluctantly. Then we go to recess, which he does not get for being ridiculous the entire day and he is the only kid to NOT touch and hold during recess, resulting in him never being released from time out, when all the other kids do their time and move on. Even though he always should miss all of recess, we tell him if he can touch and hold against the wall, we will let him have the last five minutes. It never happens. If it does, he then throws a tantrum when recess is over and sometimes runs out the gate in an attempt to stay longer. Then we come in from recess and half the time, he is so tired, he will sit through story time quietly. The other half, he has tantrums because he was not picked on to volunteer, he is still mad about recess or just because he is having a bad day. We then have nap and it goes one of two ways. Some days he sleeps. Best days ever. Other days, he gets up and runs around the classroom (i.e. on top of tables, on top of centers, running on kids heads who are asleep) until my para and I work together to catch him and hold him down. He then screams really loudly his favorite phrases ("Leave me alone!" "No!" and again my favorite, "You are getting on my nerves") until he eventually gets tired and falls asleep. After nap, it goes one of two ways again. He either wakes up rested and goes to eat his snack without much ado. If this happens, the rest of the day is perfect. He eats his snack, he sits through lesson quietly and enjoys centers the rest of the day. Or he wakes up angry, throws a tantrum, snack gets taken away, he misses the lesson and gets centers taken away, resulting in complete chaos until 3. However, even on the days the afternoons go well, the day always ends on a negative note, as a tantrum ensues at 3pm every day when he does not get announced the Superstar of the Day (with the exception of once out of every twenty days). And that is T.
I should explain what his tantrums look like, just to fully illustrate. Hitting. Lots of hitting. Other kids, me, my para, anyone. Running. Lots of running. Running in the parking lot, the classroom, out the classroom, down the hall. Yelling and screaming. Lots of yelling and screaming. Yelling his key phrases and literally screaming just so that the other kids cannot hear my teaching or instructions. And occasionally, destroying. Lots of destroying. Grabbing every single box in my centers and throwing them on the floor. Tearing things off my wall. And the list goes on. The newest tantrum he had this week involved going onto my rug and peeing his pants on purpose all over the rug. Then laughing.
Out of fairness, I should say some positive things about him. He is the most loving kid ever. When he does calm down, he says sorry very sincerely (although usually after coaxing) and gives you the sweetest hug in the world. He loves his baby sister a lot and when he is not having a tantrum (so about 10% of the day), he is actually a very well behaved and calm student. He loves to participate and every once in awhile, he even shows some empathy and caring to the other kids in the class (i.e. when another one cries, saying, "it's okay" and patting their back. His parents are really invested in his behavior and are really working hard with us to try to get it under control. I mean, his mom comes constantly to watch him and when she does not come, we always discuss the day. So there are some positives, but sometimes it is hard to remember.
I realize how incredibly negative and non strength focused this post sounds. Part of me hates myself for writing it and the other part of me has to get it out somehow. I am running out of ideas with this child. The only times he ever behaves is when he gets his way, when his parents sit in on class (and take him into the bathroom and beat him if he does even one thing wrong) and that is about it. And when his parents leave, he immediately throws a tantrum or misbehaves more than his usual, as if to spite us for bringing in family. I literally talk with his mom at least 4 times a week and she observes him about 2-3 times a week, sometimes for the entire day. I take videos of him during his tantrums and show both his mother and make him watch it. We talk constantly about good choices and bad choices and I try so hard to keep my tone positive with him, even when I want to cry. He gets so many second and third and twentieth tries and I give him more attention easily than anyone else in the entire class. Maybe my entire life. I call on him immediately when he is behaving and brag on his good choices all the time, but it is not enough. I tried a check in check out system with him for every five minutes for the entire first three months of school, but I think it is time to admit, it just did not work. It worked wonders for C, my other little once terror, now fairly under control love, but for T it is just not working. The nursery teacher suggested I am harsher with him, told me to yell at him, growl at him, do whatever I have to do, but I do not believe that is the answer. Sometimes she takes him out of class, but he always comes back eating skittles and smiling, so I am not sure what she is doing is working. And he cringes and flinches when his parents gesture at him, knowing he what is coming and I do not think that is right. I am not saying I am against spanking or that his parents are bad, in fact, I think they both love him a lot. I am just saying, whatever is going on at home, it is not working as evident in his behavior at school.
I do not believe this child needs anymore yelling or hitting in his life. His family punishes him with yelling and hitting and I believe that is where he learned these horrible behaviors. But because of it, that is literally the only thing he responds to, violence and screams. And even if I screamed at him, I think he would still act up because he knows I will never hit him. But I do not know what to do. I love this child so much (although my post might suggest otherwise), I assure you I do. But I just do not know what to do. If I cannot get him under control, he is going to go to Kindergarten academically behind and a behavioral nightmare. At this point, I would suggest another year of Pre-K, but it is impossible to hold back a child in Pre-K and so my time is running out. I do not think he needs an evaluation or medication, because I have seen glimpses of a studious and well behaved boy in between the tantrums and I think his behavior is learned, not inherent. If I can get him under control, I believe I can catch him up academically (because he does learn fast when he is sitting still and not screaming) and I am sure next year, the transition will be easy. The stakes are so high and I am low on ideas.
My next step. I am working with my principal to set up a meeting with her, my para, our supposed district social worker (I've never met him/her--so I have my doubts) and the family about more positive child rearing techniques. But I just don't know.
So if you have encouragement or suggestions, send it my way because right now, I know I am failing this little child. He is sweet and loveable and very smart, but right now, the only side of him I see is intense anger, destruction and violence. I cannot let him fall between the cracks. I am lacking confidence that I can do it, something I usually do not lack, but I know I care and I know I won't give up, so I hope that is enough. His little future depends on it.
"Unless someone like you cares a whole awful lot, nothing is going to get better. It's not" -Dr. Suess
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