Losing Grip

Before the move of the school was announced, I had a firm hold on my life. I was working a semi less ridiculous amount of time, I was feeling the results of my hard work and I felt confident in the future of all 20 of my kids, despite the tremendous odds they we were all up against.

But I am losing my grip.

Quite literally too. This morning I was running late to school after oversleeping from staying up past 11 working on things. Plus, I had to stop on the way to school to get some sort of caffeine as I also have a vicious cold. So two minutes late to work, clutching the glass cold coffee rushing to my desk, I lost my grip and dropped it on the floor, resulting in spilled coffee and shards of glass all over the floor with the suspenseful knowledge that 20 bright eyed kids would be walking through the door any minute. It felt a whole lot like my life right now.

Not to say I'm disorganized, behind on work or failing miserably, I'm actually more productive than ever. I probably already put in 65 hours since Monday and I still I have the weekend, but I am lesson planned all the way to February, done testing my kids for the report cards due on Dec. 14th and have a clear action plan of how to completely dissect and rebuild my classroom into the new building by December 22nd, when I leave for home. While the plan is strenuous and time intensive (as the turn around is oh so quick), it can be easily accomplished as I know once December 22nd hits, I will have two full weeks to recuperate.

I am losing my grip because I am worn out (physically obviously), but more notably emotionally. I found out this week I am losing most likely three kids, one of which already left without saying goodbye. I had no idea how completely and utterly attached I am to my children. Despite my constant blubbering about my kids and endless hours devoted to them, I don't think it is possible to realize the extent of an attachment to someone until it is taken away.

The first I lost is S. The youngest girl in the class, S stole my heart from day one. Her unbelievably high voice is countered by an unmistakable toughness and tomboyishness that can only be attributed to being raised by her father alone. She burps and farts and bites and spits and thinks it is all hilarious good fun. She has an unmistakeable unibrow which fits her beautiful little face like Frida Kahlo. She is tiny, but boisterous and so smart. Her writing skills are lacking just a bit (most likely due to her age), but in every other area, she is on the top of the class. S is one of those students who is constantly in trouble because she is loud and tough, but is just so loveable you cannot stay mad. Two of my favorite memories of S is when in the middle of testing, she looked at me with her big beautiful brown eyes and said, "Ms. Knipp, the doctor said I can't drink soda anymore because it burns when I pee!" and when I was away during intercession, another teacher tried to punish her and she retorted in her oh so matter of fact way, "You are not my teacher. Ms. Knipp is." She is independent and strong, only crying whenever her mom comes to pick up her brother and not her (she does not see mom much), or when her dad leaves town for long periods of time. She is probably more grown up than she should be because of her life circumstances, but despite all her flaws, she knows how to love. That little girl stole the heart of the class too. Another S in the class, my ladies man has had her as his main squeeze since day one, and after her fourth day of not showing up, he demanded bravely to her 2nd grade brother who does not even live with her, "WHERE IS S?" I do not know how but someone her grandmother managed to fit her into one of my districts other Pre-K classes and she has been attending for the entire week. Her father did not tell me, but just stopped bringing her. I never got to say goodbye to my little tomboy. I think I am in denial as I cannot bring myself to tell the class yet. I know their little hearts will be as broken as my own.

The second to leave for sure is J. J is a handful. One of my smartest and brightest for sure (she is one of the one's who passed the Kinder reading test), she has major attention issues. Wearing her hair in two big big braids, she is often caught on the rug putting her arms in between her braids and swinging her head back and forth making weird noises. J works my last nerve each and every day due to her CONSTANT inattention, but you cannot help but love her. She never listens to a word I say, I promise you, as she is always in la-la land, but she somehow always gets the answers right and has an undying loyalty to me. Everyday she wanders into class eyes up at the ceiling, talking to herself (yes she does that constantly), but holding some sort of letter or picture or drawing from home she wants to give to me. She is always asking me to sit with her or talk with her, although she is often content to talk to herself (particularly during nap). A major goofball, but a brainiac none the less, her mom is putting her into nursery services instead. It breaks my heart because she is at the top of the class and I was going to push her as far as I could this year, but now she will be back to watching movies, taking long naps and involved in very little instructional time on a day to day basis. While I believe one hundred percent that she is academically gifted, I worry that her gift will go to waste waiting around in a nonacademically based child care service.

And last is T. Yes the infamous T. His mom has not told me for sure, but everyday it becomes more clear she will put T back in the same nursery he has been in since age 2. T is the second lowest in my class and the worst behavior problem by far. He needs Pre-K more than anyone I have ever met. And he has grown. For my loyal readers, you may recall a helpless and undoubtedly long blogpost about the headache of my life which is T. But for the past two weeks, my para and I have finally found some way to calm down his crazy. Through a few strategic body placements and responses to the madness, we have got him to a point where he has earned celebration for the past two weeks (a feat he has never achieved before). And now that his behavior has calmed down, he is beginning to learn too. I mean he is still so so low, but at least now I am seeing improvement. In fact, on my most recent assessment, he was one of only four students to get a hard question right regarding following nonverbal directions (ironic I know). At the beginning of the year, I must admit, I had my doubts about T. I did not know if I could get him where he needed to be academically and emotionally by the end of the year. On the bad days, I still have my doubts. But recently, I have seen hope. But now, he is going back to a nursery where the primary activities involve watching movies, taking naps and being rewarded for compliance with skittles (something I am adamantly against and I think contributed to the behavior). While S and J will probably be okay, both are likely to go into Kinder on level despite their new placements, I worry about T. Honestly, T was one of the four or five in my class who need intensive academic intervention and putting him with 2 and 3 year olds is not going to fix anything. His future is no longer within my control, if his mom goes through with it. While I know 100% whomever would come into my class to replace T would not be as difficult as him, I love the boy so much and do not want to lose him. Not only out of selfishness on my part, but fear of what will become of him.

So I am struggling right now. Not at an alarming rate, but more than I anticipated I could. On a face seldom welcoming tears, I anticipate water leaking out of my eyes in the coming weeks. Not just yet, but as the truth of the loss I am experiencing sinks further in, I am positive the emotions will become quite overwhelming. I am losing grip.

But I have always believed when you start losing grip, you should clutch on tighter and squeeze with more might. So, I will not go down without a fight. You better believe even though S has already been at her new school for a week, I will be calling her daddy this weekend. I know it was her grandma's decision and I know that daddy has more say than appears. I also know that daddy loves to call me baby and make me extremely uncomfortable every time he goes to pick her up, but at this point, I am using his awkward affection for me as leeway to get my baby back, his little girl. My principal is going to call this weekend too. Because while we are all frustrated with the changes, we are not going to let our dissatisfaction break our devotion to the children we work with and for. I am going to confront J's mom about her intentions and use every ounce of persuasion to change her mind. And I am going to keep speaking with T's mom to make her reconsider, whatever it takes.

So like one of those horrible romantic comedy movies where the protagonist does not realize their love for another until they have already lost them, and most go through all sorts of animosity to win them back, I am following suit. I will not let my kids go until the job is done and right now, we have a lot left to do.

So here is to the fight.

"Know your enemy and know yourself and you can fight a hundred battles without disaster." -Sun Tzu