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.

Portal.

Ah the internet (or World Wide Web as the local newsman calls it...). I'm never surprised at the amazing networking opportunities it provides. I get tweets and emails weekly from teachers, students, and parents. Usually they are kind comments and questions. Occasionally, I'm asked to read and review a book (who doesn't love a free book?) - a few weeks ago I got a most unusual email.

Rachael Stefanussen, an Industrial Design student, emailed and asked if I would take a few minutes to look over her senior capstone project. Being the busy person I am (yes, the kids leave at three, but we all know how that goes), I agreed, but it took me a few weeks to give it the attention it deserved. When I finally sat down to view her project, I was blown away.

Rachael's video was entertaining, professional, and, most importantly, thought provoking. She has envisioned a Portal that would connect teachers across communities to collaborate on classroom management, lesson planning, and all aspects of teacher mentoring. After viewing the video twice, I emailed Rachael with my thoughts and ideas. What about crossing all boundaries and making this international? What about integrating Facebook and twitter and using the already built networks many teachers have created?

Part of what excited me about Rachael's video is the simple idea that someone is thinking outside the box and trying to push the teaching experience even further into the future. I love progressive pondering and Rachael has really impressed me with her ideas.

Rachael was very gracious and we had a nice email dialogue back and forth. I asked her if she minded me sharing her wonderful proposal with others... she agreed on one condition - she'd love feedback from others too. So here it is. Please take a few minutes to watch and leave a comment for Rachael.

Job.

Last week, as we were standing in line for the bus, some of the sprouts were talking about their parents coming along on our field trip to the beach the next day. Evelyn, whose mom was not joining us, was feeling left out.

“I wish my Mom could come on a field trip,” she said.

“Well next year, when your brothers and sisters are in school, maybe your mom can come,” Mrs. D. offered.

Next year, Evelyn’s little brother and sister will start kindergarten and maybe mom will be able to come along on one of Evelyn’s first grade field trips.

“No, my dad has already said he’s signing her up for a job next year,” she replied.

I had to smile. Parents sign kids up for soccer, T-ball, dance class, and other activities. Apparently Evelyn’s dad is signing her mom up for work.

Growth.

Last week on our field trip to the beach, I had a really nice conversation with Sarah’s mother about her.

You see, when the Sarah started kindergarten last year, she was one of the youngest sprouts and, although I’d seemingly forgotten, she couldn’t write her name. Her mother hadn’t failed to remember.

“She’s come such a long way in just one year,” she remarked.

“You’re right… just wait until you see how much she grows in first grade,” I said.

As we sat on the bus chatting about Sarah, I remembered how much help she needed back in August. I remembered writing her name with a yellow highlighter. I remembered holding my hand over hers as she practiced writing her name. I remembered showing her, over and over, how to hold her scissors (‘Thumbs up!’).

As we enter the homestretch it’s easy (at least for me…) to forget where many of my sprouts began… it’s awesome to witness just how far they’ve come.

Lessons.

Today we took a field trip to a local wildlife rescue park. They take in wild animals and take care of them. Most are hurt or injured and wouldn’t survive on their own. They have some amazing animals and was a wonderful way to celebrate our animal unit.

Unfortunately, Mother Nature decided a cold, wet, drizzly day was in store and so, with apprehension, we set off for the park. Here are some lessons I learned today:

• When it’s cold, wet, and raw, you get the entire park to yourself! No crowds!

• When you have the park to yourself, there’s no waiting for bathrooms – bonus!

• While teachers and parents may complain about the awful weather, the children could care less… they’re on a FIELD TRIP!

• When it’s cold and wet, ALL of the animals come out and are much easier to see – today we saw everything.

• In said weather, the moose, usually elusive, comes right up to the fence and almost looks like she wants to be petted.

• When all your chaperones show up on time and make your day easier, be grateful and make sure to thank each of them profusely.

• No amount of dreary weather can take away from the majesty of seeing a bald eagle from six feet away.

Rain, rain, don’t go away, you made our field trip extra special today.

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.

Moms.

Well, it’s Mother’s Day. As a kindergarten teacher, I encounter all types of moms. Whatever separates them, they all share one thing… they love their children and want what’s best for them… actually, I share that with them too. Maybe that’s why I get called ‘mom’ from time to time… the biggest compliment... even for a guy.

Happy Mother’s Day out there to all the moms who help me do my job… and to my mom and her mom, my grandma, I learned from the best.

Size.

No matter what they say, size does matter. Class size that is. Having only taught in one area of the country, my class sizes have always stayed rather uniform. When I taught second grade, I would have as many as twenty-three, which seemed like a lot. In kindergarten I’ve had as much as twenty, which, when they’re all there, seems like a whole lot. Funny thing is, many teachers have more… much more.

Obviously, the number of children in your room directly affects how much attention a teacher is able to give to each one, but class size goes deeper. In a kindergarten room, where you need room to move, stretch, dance, and play, the more bodies, the less space you have… as I found out last year, they start of like tiny munchkins, but by June they’re a whole lot bigger and take up a lot more room. Last year, with every straw we added to tally the number of days in school, our circle kept getting more ‘cozy’.

I’m not sure if there is data to back this up (I tried to find out, but gave up after awhile…), but it appears the closer you teach to a major city, the more kids you have. Obviously with a more dense population, you’re going to have more people to serve, but I have to imagine in bigger cities those kids have bigger challenges and could really benefit from smaller class sizes. When I read a reader in Baltimore had thirty-three students, another in Malibu had forty-two, and another poor teacher has so many sprouts two of them have to sit on the floor because she ran out of table space, my heart sank a little for each of them. I know they give it their all and do the best they possibly can, but forty-two kids with one teacher is just simply to many.

With budgets being slashed left and right I keep reading that class sizes are only going to be bigger… I can’t help but think that the politicians, and maybe even voters, who suggest and agree to this have no clue how it impacts the learning and success of children. What can we do? Unfortunately not a whole lot… parents have the power. I try to empower the parents in my classroom community to speak up and advocate for their children.

Here’s hoping our class sizes get smaller so every sprout can get the time and attention they deserve.  What are your thoughts on class size?

Human.

Well, it's official. I'm sick. As I fight the flu (I'm feeling better today than yesterday - today I only feel as if I've been run over by a van, not a bus), here's another one from the archive. An oldie, that many probably haven't read. I've got a new post sometime this weekend and plan on resuming my normal work/writing on Monday.

Everyone knows that teachers are held to higher standards than regular folks. Kids look up to us—it’s that simple. We’re the ones who put Band-aids on cuts, comfort the homesick, reattach eyes to beloved stuffed animals (I’ve already done this...twice) and navigate the tricky waters of five-year-old friendships. Anyone who has run a classroom of young children knows it’s not a stretch to say that we’re worshipped.

But the funny thing is, we’re normal people.

I teach in a town relatively far from where I live. It takes me almost thirty minutes to get to school. Yes, I often complain about the commute, but one day I was reminded why the distance is a good thing.

While driving home from work, I figured I could save some time by popping into a local grocery store—local to the school, that is—to pick up some items I needed for a special snack the next day (mini Oreo cookies…wheels for our graham cracker buses). While in the store, I picked up a couple things I needed for home as well, including a twelve-pack of my favorite beer. It had been a stressful day; I thought I deserved it.

And as I headed toward the checkout with my cookies and beer, I bumped into a parent and former student. Neither said anything about my purchases, but I saw their eyes. I knew what they were thinking.

Okay, so I’m a teacher. I have a great responsibility and I take it very seriously at all times—not just when I’m in the classroom. I understand, too, that my students think I’m a rock star (a few have even told me so). However, I’m also a human being. I get stressed out and, trust me, I’m not always good at hiding it.

For the most part, though, I like to think—I hope—that my students are not aware of my stresses. I’ve had moments where my personal life was in turmoil and I wasn’t sure I could hold it together, but in front of my class, I smiled through it. I had to. Not only would my students not understand my grownup problems, but they didn’t need to hear about them. In fact, they deserved not to. They’d have plenty of grownup problems of their own—as we all do—in the future.

That day in the grocery store, I was reminded why living a distance from my students is a good thing. Sometimes, keeping my home life separate from my school one is what’s best for my students. And because from time to time, I need a beer. Don’t hate me because I’m human.

Dads.

This week, Audra’s mom went away for a few days for work. As often happens when moms go away, I get humorous emails asking to make sure hair has been brushed and children are clothed. Really moms, dads aren’t totally incompetent. Are they?

I did check in with Audra a few times. She appeared clean, clothed, and her hair even looked like it had been brushed (for the record, when I asked about it, it hadn’t been). I gave her some extra hugs and she seemed happy as a clam… really, why are clams so happy? Everyone is digging them up and eating them… but I digress…

Yesterday afternoon in the Library Center, I was listening to sprouts read to me and after Audra finished a book, I asked her, “Hey, did your dad take you out for dinner last night?”

“No we ate at home,” she replied.

“Oh really? Is your dad a good cook? What did you have?” I inquired.

“Well… we just had bowls of cereal,” she answered.

I have to admit, I’ve had cereal for dinner on a few occasions. It’s quick, easy, and cleanup is minimal. Bravo to Audra’s dad for being quick on your feet and showing the world that dads can hold down the fort just fine… at least for a few days.

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.

Girl Power.

My post last week, Sammy, about my visit with Valerie from last year, sparked some more thoughts about girls. See, Valerie is one of those little girls that everyone comments on. Last year, whenever ladies came into my room to volunteer, work with students, drop something off, etc. anyone who saw Valerie would comment on her appearance. She’s just strikingly beautiful and people always noticed.

This is why I always tried to encourage Valerie to work hard and understand how smart she was (and still is). In my short time as an educator, I’ve seen too many girls, that for one reason or another (really, can someone explain this to me?) thought being ‘pretty’ or ‘cute’ was the most important thing in their lives.

Here are a few suggestions for the parents of little girls… I hope I’m not stepping on any toes here, but here goes.

1. Spend as much time reading and writing with your little girl as you do combing her hair, teaching her about makeup, or talking about the way she looks.
2. Remind your daughters they can grow up to be anything… I mean anything they want to.
3. Actively listen to girls' voices, opinions, and ideas. Remember to recognize accomplishments.
4. Statistics show young girls are more worried about being teased than being violently attacked. Talk about bullying. Know your daughter’s friends. Stay involved.
5. A little less Britney and a little more Adele.
6. Resist jumping to “fix” things for girls; empower her to discuss struggles, and problem solve; show her you believe she has the ability to handle her life; discuss ways to approach struggles, and ask what you can do to help support her through the process.
7. I haven’t kept a record, but I see far more t-shirts that say ‘Cutie Pie’ or ‘Pretty Princess’ with cutesy pink and purple kittens and cupcakes on them than t-shirts that say ‘Girl Power!’ or ‘Anything boys can do girls can do better’ – although for the record, one little girl in my class this year owns both of the latter and she rocks.
8. Compliment your daughter on her reading, writing, athletic abilities, friendships… things other than looks.

Obviously, our society places a high value on appearance and parents have an uphill battle ahead of them. Teachers and other adults in the lives of young girls can help too… it really does take a village and we owe it to our girls to show them the value of what real beauty means… it’s on the inside.

Resources for empowering girls (and sites that helped me with this post):
Girls Know More
Girl Scouts of America

Cans.

Each year our school does a drive for the local food pantry. Like I do with many emails (really, does a kindergarten teacher have time to read email?) I only scanned the message. What I read was, ‘Kindergarten classes are going to collect canned goods. The goal for each kindergarten class is to collect one hundred cans.’

One hundred cans? That’s a lot of cans for a single class, but I figured, hey, it’s a goal, let’s shoot for it and do the best we can.

After communicating this with the class, and getting them on board, I reread the email and realized it was the entire kindergarten, not each single class, that was to collect one hundred cans. Ooops. Well, naturally, it was too late. The seed had been planted. My sprouts wanted to collect one hundred cans, no question about it.

Parents were dragged to the store and asked to by multiple cans. Cupboards were cleaned out. Backpacks were weighted down with one too many cans for a five-year-old to carry. We counted and tallied our cans everyday… the number grew and grew… The deadline arrived. Our final tally was one hundred six cans. Whoa.

We packed the cans in boxes and even made a sign to celebrate our love of giving back to the community. The lesson was clear, giving feels great.

Today, at bus dismissal, they announced the school total and then congratulated our class by name for collecting more than any other class… ever! You could have heard a pin drop during the announcement… something that doesn’t happen often. When the secretary finished, it sounded like she had just announced our entire class had just won a trip to Disneyworld.

Cans are powerful… and sometimes not having time to thoroughly read your email pays off.

99.

Today, in all the flurry of Valentine’s Day, one child began coughing. He clearly didn't feel well. As I walked over to him, he looked up at me and said, “I don’t feel good.”

I felt his forehead and it seemed warm so I whisked him off to the nurse. She quickly took his temperature and reported to me, “Ninety-nine degrees – he’s all right for now… keep an eye on him.” (On a side note, our school nurse is nothing less than a rock star. I told her so and she seemed pleased.)

With that we went back to the celebration of opening Valentine’s. The child walked up to a parent who was helping and said, “Well, I’m ninety-nine percent sick.”

Classic.

Dr. Spock.

Today, for some reason, as I perused the produce section of the grocery store, I craved an orange. I’m not a big orange fan, so I just picked up a single loose one. I put it in the seat portion of my cart with my gloves and other produce and then finished my shopping.

When I got to the checkout line, in the whirlwind to unpack my cart, I had forgotten about my lone orange. As I pushed my cart through to the bagger, I noticed the orange and pulled it from under my gloves.

“Whoa, I almost stole an orange,” I said to the cashier.

“Yes, I can see the headlines, a… well, what do you do for a living?” She asked interrupting herself.

“I’m a teacher… I teach kindergarten,” I confessed.

Her eyes lit up at the prospect of her punch line.

“Kindergarten teacher arrested for theft of orange!” She laughed.

Suddenly, the bagger’s interested was piqued.

“Wait, you teach kindergarten?” She asked.

“Yup, I do,” I said.

“Well, my daughter is four, she’s in preschool two days a week… do you think that’s enough? What do you think she needs to know to be ready for kindergarten? She can write her name, but doesn’t know all her letters yet, is that enough? What about numbers?” She literally rattled off questions.

I tried to answer her the best I could. Her eyes were pleading… obviously she was concerned she was doing the best for her daughter. Clearly, she viewed me as an expert.

It never ceases to amaze me the way as soon as my profession is revealed, I’m viewed as a childhood development expert. While I’ve read Chip Wood’s Yardsticks a few times, and I do have a few years of experience working with young children under my belt, for sure, I’m no Dr. Spock. I’m always willing to share my opinions, but I also worry I’m giving inaccurate information. A little trick I use is always finishing with, ‘That’s just my opinion…’ because it is.

Yes Uncle Ben, with great power comes great responsibility… today I was reminded, even when I leave the classroom, I’m still ‘on’ and that orange… I didn’t mean to almost steal it, really.

Play?

Almost all kindergarten teachers wish there was more time for play. With the pressures of rigorous standards, testing, and benchmarks constantly increasing from The Powers That Be, finding time for our students to be, well kids, can be difficult at best.

Teachers know that play is an integral part of early childhood development. All you have to do is walk around a classroom during play centers to see the language and social skills development happening. It also gives our sprouts some time to take control of their day and learning.

Recently, I stumbled upon an article in the New York Times about a school in Forest Hills, Queens where parents decided enough is enough. Working together, they petitioned administration to change the structure of the day, increase recess, and allow more time for play in kindergarten.

It sounds simple, but it’s a powerful reminder. Parents are partners. Just like us, they genuinely want what’s best for their children. Just like us, they know how essential play is to the development of the whole child. Just like us, many of them are frustrated at the increasing academic stresses placed on such young children.

How do you incorporate play into your day? How does your administration feel about play? How do parents? When teachers and parents work together, amazing things can happen.

Logic.

Today at bus time, I asked Luther, whose mother is expecting, about the impending new addition.

“Luther, how is your mom doing?” I began.

“Good, she’s good,” he said.

“When is the baby due?” I prodded.

“Soon, I think in the spring,” he said.

“Do you know if it’s going to be a boy or girl?” I asked.

“No, it’s going to be a surprise!” He exclaimed.

"That's the best surprise," I added.

“Ohh, maybe it will be twins,” Mrs. D. wondered.

“No, it can’t be twins,” he told us.

“Why not?” I asked.

“Well with me and my little brother, there’s only room for one more baby in the tub,” he explained.

Now that is logic. Apparently, three in the tub is a perfect fit, but four in the tub?  No way.

They shoot male kindergarten teachers, don't they?

Oh, the internet. It never ceases to amaze me (I hope I don't sound like an old fuddy duddy here...) how people are brought together through the web. I receive emails from folks all over the world with comments, questions, and ideas.

Recently, Philip, a reader from Australia (a place I've always wanted to visit), sent me an email. He's been thinking of changing careers and becoming a kindergarten teacher. Philip has been getting a lot of flack from his friends and family about this decision. He had a few very specific concerns that were brought to his attention by those around him. Here they are and my reply.

Philip,

Teaching kindergarten has been one of the most wonderful experiences of my LIFE. I mean that too. Each day presents challenges, but an equal number of rewards. Let me reply to each of your concerns one at a time.

Ok, here goes.

1. But you're male (people will think you are weird)

People think I'm weird anyway. I smile all the time. I sing and dance in the teacher's room with veteran teachers. I wear green sneakers (really, they are green!). I teach my class the robot and other awful dance moves from my youth. There's nothing wrong with being DIFFERENT. If being 'weird' means being different, sign me up. Who wants to be plain, boring, or ordinary? If loving the work you do - teaching children to observe and notice the world around them in unique and creative ways makes you weird, then be weird. If knowing you are making an impact on a child's life, even just for a short time makes you weird, then be weird. If wanting to share a little bit of the joy you have for life and learning with sprouts just beginning their own journeys in education makes you weird, then embrace being weird!

2. People will think you are a molester (you cannot touch or be touched by the kids)

If people think I (or any other man who works in my school or with young kids) only works with children to 'molest' or 'touch' them, they are idiots. I hate to be crass, but that's how I feel. I'm offended by anyone who thinks that about me... spend an hour in my classroom and then decide how I feel about my students. Oh and by the way, I'm affectionate with my students all the time... it's ok to rest a hand on a shoulder in support... sad or tired kids lean on me on the carpet all the time... it's fine to offer a hug or receive one if the giver asks first. I do show my sprouts how to hug me properly (hands above my waist please), but there are tons, I mean TONS of hugs in my classroom. Heck, even the parents have been known to offer me a hug. A hug is a smile with your arms - who wouldn't want that?

3. It won't be as mentally stimulating

Um, that's ridiculous. I am challenged, both academically and socially daily by my students. When you have a room of twenty plus kids, all with different backgrounds and abilities and you have to teach them all - that's not just mentally stimulating, it's downright overwhelming at times... trust me.

4. You're wasting your potential

Again, ridiculous. What's your potential? How many of your friends who work in the business world change lives? That's all I have to say about that.

5. You've never been into handicrafts

Here's a secret nobody wants you to know. You do not have to be crafty to teach kindergarten. Trust me. I'm just about the most uncrafty person I know. Kindergarten is NOT, I repeat, not all about crafts. We do some basic stuff (paper bags, cotton balls - real basic) and my class has a ball. You'd also be surprised what you can find online... I've made some quite dandy stuff based on others' lesson plans and ideas.  Most sites even offer pictures with steps for the craft-challenged.

6. Screaming kids are really hard work

If you do your job, they won't be screaming. Crying? Maybe the first few weeks, but that ends quickly. We're having too much fun dancing, singing, learning, and playing to be screaming.

7. The mothers are the big problem

I have to say, when I started teaching kindergarten, the parents were a big fear of mine. Here's another secret, if their child loves school and loves you, the parents are going to be very, VERY happy. Keep the lines of communication open (I send a daily email with what we've done in class) and invite parents in to observe or volunteer. I do think the first time many of my students' parents meet me they are a little surprised to see a man teaching kindergarten. This dissipates very quickly. After a few years, you'll get a reputation in the community as a fantastic teacher and you'll have nothing to worry about. Mothers want their kids to be happy and successful. I can't say I blame them.

So there you have.  Go out and buy yourself a pair of green sneakers (or whatever your favorite color is) and find the joy in teaching.

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.

Video.

As part of our literacy program using The Three Habits of Highly Successful Reading Teachers (I don’t get a cut of the sales, I promise…), Mrs. D. and I have been preparing a packet of materials to send home to parents. A few weeks ago, I had the brilliant idea (Mrs. D. was reluctant, but much as I usually do, I plowed ahead) of videotaping parts of our instruction to help parents transfer the specific skills we’re teaching at home.

Last week I videotaped some lessons and posted them on our class website. Today we finally were able to gather and package the materials to send home. As part of presenting the materials to the class, we wanted to share the videos. If you’ve never watched a class of five-year-olds watching videos of themselves, let me tell you, it’s an experience.

There were smiles, laughter, giggling, covering of eyes, and plenty of ‘oohs’ and ‘aahs’ – I was having more fun watching them than the videos. It reminded me of a recent news story I saw about dolphins responding to their reflections in a mirror – magical.

When we told the class they were taking home materials to help them become better readers and writers, they literally screamed with glee. Come ‘on – it doesn’t get much better than that. You would think we had just told them they were having an ice-cream pajama-pizza movie party, not sending home alphabet charts and sight word lists. Kindergarteners love learning and I love them for it.