Graduation Reflections.

Yesterday was our kindergarten graduation. Always a bittersweet day, here some highlights.

• There's nothing much cuter than new dresses and new dress shirts on kindergartners.

• Practicing our songs in the morning, a certain kindergarten teacher had a mini panic attack when the entire class forgot the second verse of 'Rags' - a song we've sung all year long.

• When you realize that every other class is having some sort of celebration around the same time as yours, don't worry about parking... Just email all parents and ask them to take said parking chaos into consideration.

• Realize when your female teaching partner comes back from changing into a dress, a little boy saying, "You look like a cow!" is probably not a good thing... For the record, her dress was black and white - prompting the comment.

• When you emerge from the bathroom wearing a dress shirt and khaki pants and every child swarms to tell you how 'handsome' you are, it's most likely a sign that all the t-shirts and shorts you've been wearing the past few weeks have washed away the fact that you wore the same dress shirt and khaki pants all year long until it hit eighty degrees.

• When, not one, but two little boys have a clothes crisis (scissors and chocolate milk), be sure to start the phone calls to their mothers with 'He isn't hurt' - Both moms arrived with new shirts and for the record, kindergarten moms ROCK. Also of note - no wardrobe malfunctions for the girls.

• When you walk the class down to the cafe-gym-atorium a full half hour before the ceremony begins to set up, do not be surprised to see almost all of the parents there ready and waiting for you... after all, you warned them about the parking.

• When planning your outfit for the celebration, don't forget that while your classroom is air conditioned and cool, the cafe-gym-atorium is not. You will be sweating. You will be shiny. Get over it.

• Don't forget the extension cord for the boom box in the classroom. If you do, when you realize you've forgotten it moments before you need to hip play, you'll have to run back to your classroom on the other side of the school making yourself even sweatier.

• When kneeling down for pictures with every child after the celebration, try not to worry about the pain in your knees on the hard tile floor. Remember why you're here and the smiles will be natural.

• Don't imagine you're the President or Lady Gaga when the flashes from the cameras temporarily blind you.

• When the dust begins to settle and your realize one little boy had nobody show up, do not let his tears make you cry too. Take his hand, walk him back to class and offer him a chocolate pudding from your secret stash. Since naturally he's on the last bus, sit next to him, put your arm around his shoulders and read books with him until his bus is called to distract him from being sad.

• When his bus is finally called and he leaves, remember this is why you teach. You teach for the one kid who is alone after everyone else has left with parents, siblings, aunts, uncles, and grandparents. You teach so you can give him a pudding, read with him, and make him feel better.

Monday is our last day. It's never easy and when I finally say my last goodbyes and get in my car to go home, I fully expect to shed a tear or two.

Earring.

This morning, in the quiet hubbub of arrival time, Penny came up to me with her hand out, holding something precious.

“Mr. ______, the back of my earring fell off,” she said.

Uh-oh. Another area of expertise I’m quite lacking in. The last time I tried to fix Nicole's hair, she looked like she took a very long ride in a convertible on a windy day.

“Um, hold on a second,” I replied and walked over to fetch Mrs. D.

Mrs. D. calmly fixed the broken earring for Penny.

When she finished, I remarked, “It’s a good thing you’re hear Mrs. D. – I am no good at earrings.”

“Girls simply cannot be without their earrings, Mr. ______,” she smiled.

With that, Penny skipped off to begin her reading. Another disaster averted.

Evelyn and Jason.

We all know the drill. The sprouts with the highest academic and behavior needs get the higher percentage of our attention… day in and day out. Is it fair? Absolutely not. Unfortunately, it’s just the way the cookie crumbles and there’s not much you can do about it.

Lucky for me, with a team teaching situation this year, I’m finding I can give more attention to all children, regardless of academic or behavior concerns. No doubt, those ‘squeaky wheels’ always get a little more regard, but those ‘rocks’ as I like to call them (rocks as in, ‘like a rock’ sturdy and steady, I don’t have to worry about them too much) get more than usual.

Two of my sprouts who fit into that category this year are Evelyn and Jason. Both are quiet, respectful, and academically strong. It’s easy to see how each could get lost in the shuffle, but having two teachers has allowed them more one on one and ‘small moment’ time.

As long as I teach, I’ll never forget hearing Evelyn’s mother tell me at last summer’s open house, “She doesn’t really like men.” Yikes. Good thing my teaching partner is a woman. Funny thing is, turns out Evelyn just hadn’t met the right guy yet… me. Surely she was slower to warm up to my charms, but eventually, in her own time, she allowed me to show her the kindness she deserved.

Last week, Evelyn presented me with the following:

“Thank you,” I said.

“I think you’re sweet too,” I finished as she smiled at me. She offered a rare and cherished hug.

Jason too is a quiet boy who, unlike most boys in kindergarten, rarely acts silly or needs to be reigned in. If I never said, ‘Jason, thank you for sitting politely and being ready to learn,’ the poor boy would barely ever hear his name. While other boys seek me out for hugs and handholding (yes, the boys crave them), Jason would always stay back, preferring to offer a smile instead.

About two weeks ago, Jason came up to me during Quiet Time and asked if he could have a hug. Naturally, I obliged, but I was surprised by his request. After our hug, as he pulled back, I said, “Thank you for such a nice hug.”

Since then, he’s begun asking for hugs every day. I’m not sure what exactly prompted that first hug request, but as with most things hug related, I don’t question it, I just take my hugs as they come… and they are plentiful.

This year, Evelyn and Jason have taught me an important lesson. While the squeaky wheel usually gets the grease, silence is golden and deserves to be noticed, rewarded, and hugged.

Etiquette.

With two teachers and double the number of kids, walking in line in the hallway has become an art form. Usually one of us takes the front and the other the back. It works well because between the two of us, we can see almost the entire line.

Today, as I waited to take my place at the end of our line to head out for recess, the kids walked by waving, smiling, and hugging me.

Martin walked out of his place in line, approached me and said, “Mr. _______, can I take your hand and walk with you, please and thank you.”

What? ‘Please and thank you’? Really? This was something new… and for one of the few times in my day, I was speechless for a moment.

“Um, sure Martin,” I replied.

I mean really, how could I argue with such etiquette?

He reached up took my hand and we walked out.

I looked down at him and he said, “You said ‘yes’ because I’m so nice, right?”

“Partly… also because you asked so politely,” I answered.

With that we headed outside to play.

The Big Show.

I love spring student led conferences. It’s what I affectionately like to call, ‘The Big Show’ because it takes us weeks to prepare and practice for the day. In addition to getting all our materials together (it’s a long extensive list of items, including work from the first day of school to compare against recent work and entire Goldilocks and the Three Bears setting and puppets for retelling), we have to psych up the little sprouts to share their work.

No doubt, they’re excitement and exuberance is bubbling at the surface, but we want to make sure they feel ready to do all the sharing independently… this takes practice, and lots of it. By the time the day actually arrived yesterday (both Monday and Tuesday they all came in asking, ‘Are the conferences today?’), we were more than ready.

We spent the day gathering all the hard work we’d prepared and then, like all good hosts do, cleaning our room so it looked the best it could for our guests. When, at the last minute, I tried to find a hiding place for our laundry basket of art shirts (as my mom says, I’m a ‘stacker’ and a ‘hider’ – my bedroom closet and underneath my bed were all ways busting at the seams as a kid…), Mrs. D. reminded me ours is a ‘working classroom’ and should look as such. Knowing our custodian wouldn’t have time to clean our room before conferences began, everyone pitched in to wipe, sweep, and tidy our room.

And then they began. It never ceases to make my shirt buttons bust with pride to watch little kindergartners bring their families in, take their hands, guide them to their seats, and just show off. That’s basically what our conferences are… Mrs. D. and I do very little. We walk around prompting, praising, and patting (as in heads), but that’s about it. We answer the occasional question, but really, this is a chance for our sprouts to show how far they’ve come since school began.

Everyone came. The few we weren’t sure about came. The mom who is on bed rest because she’s about to deliver any second came (I told her I had my cell and was prepared to call 911 if needed). Most of the families found childcare for siblings to they could give their kindergartner their undivided attention. I saw more smiles on children’s and parent’s faces than I could count. Our journey is winding closer to a finish and I couldn’t be more proud.

Dusty.

This week we started a mini-unit on Goldilocks and the Three Bears. We’re reading as many versions of the story as we can and making our own storyboard and stick puppets to practice retelling. Our student led conferences are at the end of the month and each child retelling Goldilocks to their parents is the pièce de résistance of the day.

I did this last year and read many, many versions of the classic tale, but one I missed was Dusty Locks and the Three Bears by Susan Lowell with illustrations by Randy Cecil. Mrs. D. offered it up to me to read (we always do two read alouds and share them) with, “Can you do a southern accent?”

“Sure!” I replied, figuring I’d wing it.

Well let me tell you, if you haven’t ever read Dusty Locks, stop what you’re doing, run, don’t walk, to buy it, and READ IT to your class or children at home. This was the most fun I’ve had reading a book aloud in a very long time… this from a guy who reads many books aloud daily. It was downright hilarious.

The story stays relatively close to the original, with plates of beans standing in for the porridge and lots of fiddles and cowboy boots and hats.

Dusty Locks entrance (please imagine my best southern drawl):

A cloud of smoke?
A swarm of mosquitoes?
No sirree! It was a dirty little girl.
She hadn’t had a bath for a month of Sundays, so everybody called her Dusty Locks. But Trouble was her middle name. That little outlaw had run away from home without stopping to kiss her mother good-bye!

Really? I have to give the author credit, the writing is laugh out loud funny.

Upon seeing the plates of beans, Dusty Locks cries, "Ya-hoo! I'm so hungry I could eat a saddle blanket."

When Papa Bear sees someone's been eating his beans, he growls (in a deep southern accent), "SOMEONE'S BEEN EATIN' MY BEANS!"

In case you haven't guessed yet, I had a ton of fun reading this book... as did all my sprouts. The illustrations go perfectly with the text and it just injected a burst of laughter and joy into our day. Don't be shy, invite Dusty Locks into your heart and let her rustle up some trouble.

Xylophone.

Today, after reading Iza Trapani’s I’m a Little Teapot (we’re having a read aloud with her tomorrow via Skyle… SO cool), Mrs. D. showed the class the music she put on the last page of the book.

“If we had a musical instrument and someone knew how to play, we could play the notes to the song,” she explained.

“If we only had a piano, I could play it for you,” I added.

Everyone looked surprised. I’m no virtuoso, but I took piano lessons as a child and I can tap out notes and play a few random songs (Lean On Me is my go to song of choice).

“Well, how about this?” Mrs. D. asked.

She handed me the small children’s xylophone we use to get the class’ attention. When we play a few notes, the children stop what they’re doing, turn their voices off, and place their hands on their heads. We don’t usually play any actual songs, so this was going to be a first.

I balanced the xylophone and opened book on my lap and began tapping out the notes. This was not Carnegie Hall and I was not going to win America’s Got Talent, but when I finished the last note, the class erupted in wild applause. I was a hit.

When we finished reading Iza Trapini’s version of The Itsy Bitsy Spider and the class saw the notes, I was put in the spotlight again. Again, I was lavished with rapturous applause.

I’m contemplating going on the road with my xylophone. I hear U2 is looking for an opening act. If you asked my sprouts, I’d be a shoe in.

100 ways.

Oh the one hundredth day of school… I try to explain it to my non-teacher friends and they just don’t get it. It’s like Christmas, Valentines, and the Fourth of July all on one day. Maybe it’s something about kindergarten and the fact that it is their first hundred days in school, period… whatever the reason, the exhilaration is palpable.

During calendar time, as Jason did the careful work of counting our straws to make sure we indeed had one hundred, the grounds crew decided to remove the icy, crunchy snow that had piled up to almost the top of our windows… with shovels, at the exact moment he began counting… the shades were pulled and we talked about ignoring distractions, but it was hard.

As Mrs. D. read the first of many read alouds about the one hundredth day of school, the first page read, ‘Little Johnny came to school and plinked a penny into a jar. Mrs. Madoff told him his would be the first penny in the class jar.’

Yes, Mrs. Madoff. Mrs. D. burst out laughing… I let out a howl. The class looked at us like we had ten heads. It really is nice having another adult to appreciate references that fly over the kids heads.

When each sprout was counting their collection of one hundred items they’d brought in, I heard a desperate Rebecca call out, “One of my marshmallows, it’s missing!”

I ran over.

“Rebecca, what’s wrong?” I asked.

“My one hundredth marshmallow, it’s gone… Luther ate it!” She cried.

I shot a look at Luther. He looked guilty, but he always looks guilty.

“I didn’t eat it, Mr. _______, I’m being honest,” he proclaimed.

With that, Mrs. D. wandered over.

I explained the dilemma to her.

“Well, Rebecca, you’re missing a marshmallow because you ate one… remember you thought you had an extra?” She asked Rebecca.

“Oh yeah…”

Later as we made our necklaces with one hundred pieces of Fruit Loops, Sarah made me bust out laughing again.

We had instructed the class not to eat any cereal as they counted and worked. We were using communal plates of cereal and we promised when we finished the necklaces everyone would get a small cup to eat. This satisfied the kids and while they moaned and groaned about how amazing the cereal smelled and how they all wanted to eat it so badly, nobody did.

As we finished and I was about to announce we were ready to pass out the cereal for eating, I glanced over at Sarah… her necklace was in her hands and she was gingerly licking it. I lost it… laughter that probably alarmed the teacher next door. Oh well, it was funny.

There were probably one hundred ways I laughed or smiled today. Loving your sprouts and job is a brilliant way to spend your day.

Welcome.

This morning, as I was driving into work after eleven days away (our winter break plus a few tacked on days for snow), I had a revelation. As I was driving up a steep hill, something hit me… the sun. It was rising over a mountain and splashed across my face. I wasn’t driving to work in the dark anymore and somehow I knew this was a fantastic way to begin my day.

We had the unique opportunity of welcoming a new student today. The later they arrive in the year the more challenging it can be to make a new sprout feel welcome and safe. Mrs. D. and I made sure to review all the classroom rules and expectations and most of the time it was our students, not us, who were doing the teaching.

During sharing, a few children shared they were glad our new friend had joined our class. This after a long vacation, most likely filled with exciting events to share. They saw her as someone who might be feeling scared or nervous and stepped right up to the plate to take her in and make her feel at home.

In addition to the excitement of a new friend, my other friends were just so darn happy to be back it was hard not to share in their joy. When I picked them up from Art, the smile I got from Luther was alarming... he was genuinely thrilled to see me. Overall the day was filled with hugs and smiling and everyone on their best behavior... it was truly a gift to be their teacher today.

I know our new friend will settle in after a week or two… Mrs. D. and will be sure to set clear expectations and praise every positive move she makes, but it’s our class, with their patient, warm, and loving hearts that will ultimately lead to her success.

Talk.

Today I received the following email from a fellow kindergarten teacher:

This past week, I've become more and more frustrated with myself and the students over the dreaded, "talking." My lessons are teacher guided but always student driven. Therefore, I take great pride in knowing each of my students interest and I tailor our lessons around them. The students share prior knowledge on out topics so that we have a starting off place each day. My classroom routine/structure leaves little room for misbehavior, but my animated personality balances the atmosphere for academic growth.

So, while the students are somewhat verbal during a whole group introduction to a lesson, they NEVER get the chance to talk about their day, family, or new shoes. Subsequently, they all come to talk to me during transitional times (moving to and from school locations and lining up). I am constantly moving from the front to the back of the line monitoring, and they are reaching out with those BIG kindergarten eyes sharing, "I know hippos kill more people in Africa than lions," "Two hundred and two hundred is four hundred," "I like Aquaman, too, Mr. Cameron," etc. To me, these are conversation starters that I feel unable to complete due to my responsibilities to get the class to music, cafeteria, etc. In the afternoons, I do have writer's workshop, where they can write anything about themselves. During this time, I do try to listen to a few students share personal accounts/feelings/narratives.

I just feel like the proverbial dream-smasher when I have to cut someone off, postpone a thought that will never be answered, or reply with a hastened grunt. How / When do you engage meaningful conversations with the five year olds and foster a stronger classroom community?

Thank you,

Bill Cameron, Kindergarten Teacher

What a wonderful and important topic. How do we find time to engage our sprouts in meaningful conversations that build the strong community we all crave while still navigating the obstacles presented by increasing academic goals? Here are a few of the ways we do it in my classroom:

1) Arrival routines – Our arrival routine is a quiet one. Each child comes in, takes care of their belongings and begins either Read to Self or Read with a Buddy depending on the day. Part of that routine is handing me their home/school folder. In that moment, when they hand it off, any pressing news is shared. Sometimes a gift or hug is given. It’s a quiet and wonderful way to start each day connecting with each sprout for a minute or two.

2) Sharing – Quite simply, sharing is a time during our morning meeting when everyone (even teachers) get to share a sentence or two about their life. Sometimes it’s weekend plans, movies seen, play dates made, babies expected, pets passed, pets arrived, or basically anything on the mind of a five-year-old. I myself go between sharing events from my own life to commenting on the kids new haircuts, new shirts, new shoes, etc. It’s quick, because we use a pretend microphone and only the holder of the fake mic speaks. We practice being respectful listeners and I get to learn things about my students I wouldn’t have otherwise (Apparently the going rate for a lost tooth just keeps going up and up...).

3) Writing Workshop – As mentioned in Bill’s email, Writing Workshop is a critical time to explore the lives of our students. We have ours in the morning and I find it helps children share those pressing thoughts earlier in the day. As I walk around conferencing, I hear and learn about what is important to them… sometimes, by just stopping for a second and reading over a shoulder I’m welcomed into a world I wouldn’t have been otherwise.

4) Lunch Buddy - I don't do it regularly, but from time to time, I (are you sitting down) sit and eat with my class in the cafeteria.  It's laid back and relaxed and I'm a SUPER celebrity in the lunch room.

5) Quiet Time – After lunch we always have about fifteen minutes of quiet time… the rules are no talking, but to be sure, talking goes on… between me and them only. They filter over to have shoes tied, grab a hug, etc. and we always share a whisper or two. Sometimes, I invite one child over to huddle close to me and check in about an issue or just check on their day. It’s a nice quiet way to connect.

6) Center Time – Our center time each afternoon is designed for multiple purposes. Besides allowing children to practice social skills, fine and gross motor,  and play, it also allows me to pull children to assess and/or read with one on one. We usually take one day off a week (mostly Fridays, but sometimes a different day) and I just circulate. I walk from center to center spending time interacting, chatting, and playing with my sprouts. There’s no better way to connect and build community then to get down on the floor and build or be the customer at the restaurant.

7) Bus Time – Besides being the end of my workday, bus time is really one of my favorite times of day. My school has a staggered dismissal so only a few sprouts line up at a time. The rest are sitting quietly whispering until it’s their turn. This time with just a few children is precious. It’s kind of like an extended sharing where everyone is part of the conversation with me guiding and negotiating the topics and speakers. Almost everyone leaves with a smile and a hug and I feel like I’ve connected with each child before sending them off for the night.

8) Breathe - In those transitions, or other times when it's NOT a good time to share the important goings on of five-year-olds it's hard to not get frustrated.  Mrs. D. has a mug that says, 'relax, Relax, RELAX' - I refer to it often.  Having these other times does significantly cut down on interruptions, but for sure, they still happen.  I often try to reply with a 'Oh, that sounds like an awesome story for writing...' or 'I hope you share that during Sharing...' or 'Let's chat about that at bus time, please don't forget...' to help ease my dwindling patience and not squelch the story inside.  They almost always remember to bring it up again, so nobody feels unheard.

These are just some of the ways we make time to relate to children in our classroom. It’s not always easy, but the amazing community we’ve built is what makes our classroom click. How/When do you engage in meaningful conversations and foster a stronger classroom community?

Choice.

Today at Choice time, Mrs. D. called me over.

“Between Note to a Friend, Writing Workshop, Computers, and Library over half the class chose academic centers,” she said.

We’d opened Gears, Lego’s, and a few other centers, but they just wanted to engage in literacy activities. They crave it. They also know we spend most of our time during centers helping friends with reading and writing. I sat with one friend and she read four books to me. Four. Awesome.

It was a nice way to start the week.

Conductor.

Often, during our Quite Time, kids come up to have a shoe tied, offer a hug, or whisper something. Our rules are simple and clear – no talking. We use lots of sign language in our room, and kids are allowed to sign to each other or even us.

Today, during our rest time, David walked up to me and began waving his arms. We always play some peaceful music that helps relax our minds and bodies. It looked like David was pretending to be a conductor. His arms moved up and down, this way and that, around and around. I had no clue what he was doing.

I glanced at Mrs. D. She didn’t know what David was doing either.

Finally, after a few minutes of watching David accompany our music, I motioned him closer.

“Whisper what your trying to tell me,” I said quietly.

He got closer, wrapped his arms around me, and whispered, “I love you.”

“Oh, I love you too buddy,” I replied.

It doesn't get much better than that.

I think he was writing the letters in the air over and over instead of signing them. We hugged and I sent him back to rest. Sometimes, our sprouts try to communicate with us and no matter how hard we try, we don’t understand their message. Today, what I needed to do was ask for clarification. Once David had permission, he told me exactly what he was trying to convey. It was a message I wouldn't want to have missed.

Sick.

Last night, as I’m fighting a terrible cold and wondering if I should call in sick, I kept second guessing myself. All the while feeling horribly guilty at the prospect of not going in. This is the lot of a sick teacher.

Do businessmen feel this way then they have to miss a day? When I used to work in the ‘real world’ as I like to call it, I had a boss, she was Russian, and with the thickest Russian accent you’ve ever heard, she used to always say, “If we don’t get our reports done, the world, it will still be spinning, no?”

Don’t get me wrong, I realize our dear Earth will spin regardless of whether or not I call in sick or not. I’m actually in the unique position of not having to write sub plans this year. That is only one of the many, MANY perks to co-teaching. We write and prep our lessons at least a week out together. I also know there will be consistency when I’m not there because my partner will keep things running as usual. So why the guilt?

Perhaps my mother taught me (as taught to her by her own mother) to really lay the guilt on myself. Who knows?

I did bite the bullet and call in sick. As luck would have it, a massive snowstorm moved in late morning and my school had an early release. I suppose Mother Nature has her own way of telling us what to do. Point taken. I’m off to rest on the sofa with my dog.

Great expectations.

Teaching kindergarten can be a funny endeavor. Friends who don’t have a clue think you do nothing but play with puppets and make macaroni necklaces all day long (sorry Brad, I do use puppets a lot, but it’s always academic). No doubt, there is a playfulness and innocence in kindergarten. For many children, it’s their first school experience and for others it’s the first time they’ve been away from home all day long five days a week.

A kindergarten teacher has to find a balance between catering to the needs of the sprouts spreading their tender leaves for the first time and the increasingly rising academic standards set for us by the Powers That Be. As the sign in our classroom says, we want to work hard, but have fun.

I’ve realized kindergarteners can do amazing things… and not just with glitter and macaroni. In our class, everyone reads independently for close to thirty minutes. Yes, you read that correctly, thirty minutes. To be clear, this was a months long process of teaching, re-teaching, modeling, discussing, tweaking, and practicing. Walk into our classroom during arrival and you’ll find an almost silent room of children getting themselves ready for the day and then quickly grabbing a book bag, finding a good spot, and reading. It's an affirming and peaceful way to start each day.

But kindergartners can’t read!  Um, yes they can. From day one they can. In our class you can read the pictures, read the words, or retell a familiar story. By using The Three Habits of Highly Successful Reading Teachers (really, I don’t get a cut of sales), our class already knows forty sight words. FORTY. We’re starting our second list and we’ll know eighty pretty soon. That’s double what the rest of the kindergarteners in our school will know by years end. My mom always taught me not to brag, but sometimes you’ve just got to.

Don’t get me started on writing. While the standard for the end of the year is for children to be able to write with most sounds coached by an adult, that’s not good enough for us. We’re looking for independent writers… and we’ve got most of them there or really close already. As my friend David told me when he finished his second book this week and eagerly got another piece of writing paper to start another, “I’m an AUTHOR!”

Please understand we have fun in our classroom. We sing, dance, play games and have wonderful discussions together. We’ve become a real community of learners who take care of each other. If the number of hugs given instead of test scores measured success, our class’ accomplishments would be immeasurable. I’m not too worried about our scores, I’d just prefer to see some data on hugs.

Again, I’m sorry Mom for bragging. I am constantly in awe of what my little friends are capable of achieving. Reflect on your expectations. Raise them just a little and your sprouts will find the sunshine and nourishment to reach them.

Bucket.

I’ve written about Books That Heal Kids before. It’s a brilliant, invaluable resource for teachers. Recently, Roxanne the amazing school counselor that writes the blog sent me the book Have You Filled a Bucket Today? I’ve heard about these bucket books, but have yet to read one or share one with my class.

Well, after reading the book myself, it seemed to fit quite nicely into our theme of peace and kindness as we discuss Dr. King this week. We read the book and brainstormed ways we could be bucket fillers at school. When you say or do something kind to someone, you help fill their bucket. When you say or do something unkind, you empty it. Here’s the magical part… by filling someone else’s bucket, you also fill your own!

We wrote one way we could fill someone’s bucket at school on paper shaped like little drops of water and I created a bulletin board for our hallway.  Standing back, looking at the display, my bucket was filled.

Mrs. D. also had the wonderful idea of making a smaller bucket for our classroom. When we see someone filling a bucket, we’ll jot their name on a small drop of water paper and place it in the bucket.  Here it is empty, by the end of the day, it was FULL!

All day long, sprouts were not only being kind, but noticing others kindness. ‘You’re filling my bucket’’ was a common phrase heard through the class. There were lots of full buckets by days end. And the best part? All those small full buckets made my bucket overflow.

Strawberry.

As you know if you teach kindergarten or have read here, Bingo is about the most fun and exciting game in the world. There’s something about shouting out ‘Bingo!’ that just motivates kids to focus and learn. We don’t play too often because we don’t want to dull the shine, but today, when we played, we offered an amazing prize… a strawberry scented sticker.

Each winner got to come up and select a strawberry scented sticker. We played ‘Letter/Sound Bingo’ today. The caller gave a letter sound and the players covered the corresponding letter. In addition to the awesome sticker, the winner got to call the next game. We played enough so about half the kids got a sticker.

Every time a winner received their sticker (I always put it on their hand), they’d offer the others at their table a sniff of the prize. What tickled me was how even those who already had their own strawberry scented sticker on their hand wanted a sniff. Was there some different, deeper or richer strawberry smell on the new sticker?

Scented stickers always fascinated me as a kid. They’re not easy to find. The website EverythingSmells.com has some rather cool ones. I keep them in a tightly sealed Zip-Loc bag to keep them fresh and ready. They don’t come out often, but when they do, the room smells like a strawberry field... or hot dogs... or root beer... or pickles. Pick your poison.

Gracias.

This afternoon, two young ladies from the local high school came down to begin some basic Spanish lessons with our class. I’ve had students from the high school come before and usually with mixed results. To be fair, my expectations weren’t super high. Boy was I wrong.

These two seniors came in and took over… and I mean that in the best way possible. They had the class make a circle and then proceeded to lead them in a short lesson in saying ‘hello,’ ‘What is your name?’ and ‘My name is…’ By the time they left we were all speaking Spanish better then when they arrived.

What struck me most was how well they managed the group without any direction from Mrs. D. or myself. They kept them engaged and on task for almost thirty minutes, no small feat in kindergarten. These young women praised the children constantly and reminded them to listen and keep their hands and feet to themselves. Mrs. D. and I were amazed.

Our new amigos will be back every week to help us improve our Spanish. They have our entire class (including me) excited about learning… as each child left today, I got a big ‘Adios amigo!’ A few mangled it (my favorite was “Ami-mos mos-migo”), but the exhilaration about learning was there… and for that all I can say is… gracias.

Bingo!

Twice a week, Mrs. D. and I are able to split our entire class by ability. It’s brilliant. Half of them go to a special and we’re left with half the number of sprouts and both of us. Sometimes we even get another adult in to help out. We are able to do some serious interventions with a small group and our class really seems to thrive with this individualized attention.

Last week, on one of these days, we decided to play Alphabet Bingo with our group needing more work on letter identification. One of the aspects of kindergarten I love most is introducing your students to something they’ve never experienced before. When you’re five, you haven’t lived long and there is much to take in. As luck would have it, most of the kids had never played Bingo before.

Now Bingo is nothing fancy. There are no flashing lights or blips and bleeps. It’s pretty boring if you stop to think about it. Well, you would think these kids were playing for all the booty under their collective Christmas trees. They were seriously excited, enthralled, and entertained.

Oh, and there was learning going on to boot. That’s the catch – they’ve having fun, playing, but learning and they don’t even know it. Us kindergarten teachers are sneaky that way. And what did you get if you won a round of Alphabet Bingo? Why you get to come up and call out the letters for the next round. What a prize!

As we finished our time with Bingo, I walked around the room and saw sprouts helping each other identify letters and strengthening their letter identification skills. Of course, they were having a blast. Like the sign outside my door says, ‘Work hard, have fun.’

Audra.

During those first few days of school, teachers do something bad… well most teachers do… well at least I do. In the chaos of those initial days, as I try to reach the surface and get a gasp of air, I scan the room and identify those kids who you think are going to be difficult and those who aren’t. It’s not fair, it’s not on purpose, it just happens. With each year of experience I gain, I realize more and more how wrong I usually am.

This year, the sprout I was most wrong about was Audra. It didn’t help that a few staff members knew her from outside of school and had ‘warned’ me about her… it didn’t help that her parents let me know she could be ‘difficult’ at times… it didn’t help that she showed up those first few days and looked like she’d rather be getting a cavity filled than be in kindergarten.

In a word, Audra appeared crabby. She didn’t seem to like anything we did, any of the other children much, or her teachers. When we sang and moved, she just stood there. Sometimes I thought I could see her lips moving, but I think she might have just been grumbling. I feared it was going to be a dreadfully long year for all of us.

After a few weeks something started to change. As we all settled into the routines of kindergarten, Audra relaxed and began… blossoming. She started singing… she started dancing… she started to love working – especially writing. She started giving hugs… she’s become one of the most frequent huggers… the other day I called her my ‘Velcro friend’ and she laughed. She laughed.

Now when I see those staff members who know her and they ask about her, I gleefully report how well she is doing in all areas. I take a small bit of satisfaction in the surprised looks on their faces. She has become a child who loves just about everything about school. She’s a model student. She’s showing her sweet and caring self just about all the time.

Naturally the lesson here is not to be quick to judge our students. I’m not sure that will happen, because those first few days, we’re all in survival mode. Rather, become aware of those judgments, but don’t hold on to them. Realize, just as the craziness of those first few weeks morphs into a calm and trusting community, so will your perceptions.

Our class wouldn’t be the same without Audra. I sincerely look forward to seeing her smile each morning and knowing she’s going to be helping out anyway she can and offering up hugs every few minutes. She now clearly loves school and I simply adore her.

Community.

Quiet time. Darkness. Yanni soothing my sprouts to a calm rest. One by one, they file over and begin hugging both Mrs. D. and myself. A few of them going back and forth like ping pong balls… hugging me, hugging her, then back to me. They were staying quiet. They were lining up. They were loving their hugs.

When they finally settled down, I leaned over to Mrs. D. and whispered, “Did you have this much hugging in your classroom last year?”

“No way,” she replied.

“Me either… I wonder why?” I asked.

“It’s the community we’ve built,” she replied.

She’s right. Last year I had my one hugger and a few very affectionate others, but nothing like this… almost every one of our students gives hugs. Some more than others, a few have never given one, but I can count them on one hand. They all feel comfortable hugging. Some needed some time to see others and know it was permissible, but once they knew, the hugs haven't stopped.

One little boy, Jason, who refused a hug from me a few weeks ago when I asked if I could give him one as a thank you after he presented me with a picture, offered one up today. I was pleasantly surprised.

Others, like Martin and Audra hug non stop. They find any excuse to come over and give a hug, but for the most part, they keep them to transitions and non-teaching times. They understand how to ask and are all right if we say ‘not now’ which happens from time to time.

This community of learners we’ve created from the unfamiliar little friends who entered our room back in August just bowls me over. They have blossomed into the most respectable and downright sweet bunch you’ve ever seen. They give back two-fold. I leave each day exhausted, but I go back the next morning with a big smile on my face. A hundred or so hugs a day will do that to you.