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.

Shoe Club.

Ah Spring! With the melting of mountains of snow comes the buying of new shoes… usually with laces. As the number of sprouts requesting their shoes tied increases, I feel the need to introduce the Shoe Club. Basically a ruse to help me with all the tying, the club is quite exclusive. To gain membership a sprout must:

1. Tie their shoes three different times on three different days. If a child isn’t wearing shoes with laces they can tie mine.
2. Each attempt must be successful. Successful is defined by the laces staying tied. In the event of a discrepancy of success, I am the ultimate decider.

Once a sprout is in the club they receive:

1. A badge that tells the world they’re in the Shoe Tying Club.
2. A pair of brand new laces of their choice from our ‘Box Of Laces’ – rainbow, Dora, and Spongebob laces are the most popular.
3. A star next to their name on the Shoe Tying Club roster so everyone knows they are a member for life… and will seek them out when if and when they need help tying shoes.

The club is always a huge hit. This year, just as last, there were four or five that already knew how to tie. After three days, they’re in. We also have a Shoe Tying Center during Center Time each day and I ask one member to be a ‘teacher’ and help others learn.

There is nothing as rewarding as seeing the smile on a child’s face when they successfully tie their first pair of shoes. I saw that look many times this week… I am one lucky guy.

Julius.

With a sprout in class expecting a new baby brother or sister any day now and many friends with younger siblings, I decided to pull out one of my all time favorite books – Julius The Baby of the World by Kevin Henkes. One of my favorite author/illustrators, Kevin Henkes' books are sweet stories that always prompt amazing discussions. I suppose that is why I love his books so much… Chrysanthemum, Wemberly Worried, and Owen (oh how I loved my binky as a child) thrill my class over and over.

As I read Julius today, the connections were palpable. Kids fights with their siblings – I know, my brother and I practically waged war for the better part of my childhood. In Julius, Lilly is excited for her new baby brother to arrive... until he does. She can’t understand why her parents and family fawn over him when she finds him disgusting. The book never names the feeling… jealousy, but we did during our discussion.

One of the many aspects I love about Kevin Henkes books is the humor. He just finds the right balance between emotion and laughter. My favorite part of Julius? When Lilly stalks strangers warning them about the dangers of babies.

We had an amazing talk afterwards about sibling rivalry and sibling love. Most sprouts expressed their general dislike for their brothers and sisters, but a few could see the light at the end of the tunnel… thanks to Julius. These discussions about family, love, and life are what I cherish most about my job. Oh, and my brother and I, we stopped fighting and grew to love each other.

Lap.

Martin and I have a problem. He’s small. He’s young. He’s extremely affectionate and loves giving hugs and holding hands. Apparently, he also loves sitting in laps.

Everyday at bus time, when I sit in the Rest Stop he approaches me for a hug… problem is, he tries to somehow turn the hug into lap sitting. He literally tries to climb into my lap. Each day I gently push him off and tell him to stand up if he wants to give me a hug. He never argues or questions me… until today.

“But why can’t I just sit in your lap?” He asked innocently.

“Martin, I know you sit in your mom and dad’s lap at home, but at school, it’s just not allowed,” I explained.

I’m not sure if there is an explicit rule against lap sitting… I’m guessing some female kindergarten teachers may allow it, but I know if anyone walked by and saw that boy sitting on my lap, it wouldn’t be looked upon fondly. It’s also a slippery slope. If I let him, I’d have many others climbing up for a turn. My lap can’t handle that much traffic.

“Well, you can hug me and hold my hand, but we just can’t have lap sitting at school… it’s just one of those rules we have to obey…” I continued.

“But I love you,” he reasoned.

“I love you too, but we can show each other in other ways,” I explained.

“Ok, an extra hug then?” He asked.

“Of course,” I said as he fell into my arms.

Bravo!

The other day, as I walked back to my room from dropping my sprouts off at a special, a second grade teacher stopped me.

“I have a story to share with you about one of your students,” she began.

Uh-oh. I wasn’t sure this was going to be good… second grade teachers don’t often get kindergarteners… I know, I used to teach second grade.

“Yesterday, when you were walking your class to lunch I stopped a boy at the back of the line,” she said.

I was worried already. Who was it? What were they doing wrong? My school has a no talking policy rule for the hallways. My class is pretty good about it, but hey, they’re five, and total silence isn’t easy for them.

“He was wearing a winter hat that looked just like a tiger, with ears and everything…”

At this point I knew exactly who she was talking about… Andy. This wasn’t going to be good.

“I said ‘Oh what a cute tiger hat, it’s so adorable, I just love it’,” she continued.

“Then he walked right up to me, put his finger up to his lips and said, ‘Shhhhh!’” she laughed.

“My whole class roared with laughter, they thought it was hilarious… you should compliment him on remaining quiet in the hallway,” she finished and walked off.

See, because I know it’s almost impossible for my class to remain silent in the halls, I try my hardest to be silent myself. They are watching me all the time… if I’m talking to students, other teachers or staff, well, why shouldn’t they talk as well? If I’m a silent pillar, the likelihood of them being quiet increases. I was quite proud of Andy… he knew my teacher friend was breaking the rules and had no problem letting her know. Bravo my young friend!

Cough.

During Quiet Time, sprouts often come up to offer hugs, ask for their shoes to be tied, or whisper sweet nothings (‘I love you,’ ‘You’re my friend,’ and ‘You’re the best teacher in the word’ are some of my favorites). Sometimes, when they all have something to share, a small line forms. They stand quietly waiting their turn for a little one on one attention and then go back to their seats.

The other day, Sarah was standing off to the side while I tied some shoes. She waited for about three or four minutes in complete silence. Sarah is one of the sweetest little girls I’ve met. She has a quiet and gentle nature about her… oh and she sounds like her nose is perpetually stuffed. I’ve come to believe that’s just how she sounds because nobody has a cold for over eight months.

As Sarah approached me, I was expecting a hug. With her calm nature, she usually doesn’t say anything during Quiet Time, even when visiting me. She typically just offers a sincere hug and smile and then returns to her seat. After waiting for what I imagine seems like an eternity for a five-year-old, she walked up to me, her face only a few inches from mine and… coughed.

It was a loud cough. Despite our constant teaching and reviewing of how to cover your mouth (with the inside of your elbow), she made no effort to cover her mouth or shield me from her germs. Basically, she held that cough in just for me. She did give me a warm hug afterwards, but the cough seemed to linger. I love the gifts my sprouts offer up on a daily basis, but this was one I would have gladly done without.

Elf.

Every year brings new revelations and growth for me as an educator. This year, I’ve learned to say ‘I love you’ back to my sprouts when they tell me they love me… which is quite often. Most of the time it’s whispered as they pull away from a hug. Other times, they come up and say it softly, just loud enough for me to hear. Then there is Luther.

A few weeks ago Luther began saying ‘I love you,’ but as he became more and comfortable his enthusiasm and volume began to increase. Today, during Quiet Time, with all the room a hush, he literally shouted, “I love you, Mr. ______, I love you! I love you! I love you!”

He was practically singing it… just like this scene from Elf.



I suppose there is nothing wrong with singing ‘I love you’ at the top of your lungs. Luther has continued to yell it for the world to hear. For the record, I don’t shout it back, but I do say it back… every time.

Charmer.

Friday afternoons in kindergarten are always challenging… for me. My energy is spent and I’m just down right exhausted. We usually plan extra long Choice Time and I relish the opportunity to just observe and play with my sprouts instead of pulling them one on one to read or assess. Last Friday was no exception and with the lurking super-sized full moon, the entire class was quite energetic.

As we cleaned up and sat together in our meeting area, the liveliness was overwhelming… I needed to calm them down so we could get ready quickly… I needed to calm them down to prevent my head from popping off. As in most primary classrooms, non-fiction is the exception, not the rule. Personally, I adore non-fiction and I know many children do too. I went to my secret stash of non-fiction books and pulled Amazing Snakes from the pile.

Kids love snakes. I love snakes. Snakes are cool. Snakes are scary… in that rollercoaster it’s fun to be scared way.

“Girls and boys, I have a very special book to read you,” I teased, holding the book in my lap so no one could spy the cover.

A hush came over the group.

“Amazing… SNAKES!” I shouted, trying my best to say ‘snakes’ in scary way.

Well like a snake charmer taming a wild cobra with a hypnotizing pungi, they all sat at attention and were entranced by my book. I made sure to read it with my best suspenseful voice and outlined the goriness and horror of the photos. They loved it.

I finished the book and with the group quiet, we were able to get ready for dismissal quickly and quietly. As we move deeper into spring and it begins to get nicer outside, I’ll be pulling more tricks out of my non-fiction bag to help soothe the natives.

Night Worker.

This week our theme is building and construction… a favorite of mine. In addition to all the fiction stories, I bought a set of construction vehicle books last summer that I’ve been itching to read. They are amazing! My sprouts adore them and I’m even learning some of the names of parts of the vehicles I didn’t know.

Each day we usually pair a fiction and non-fiction book. They’re in the plans, but we plan quite far ahead (usually at least a week) and I often forget what is on the agenda on a given day. This morning I was running late and we had a meeting first thing, so I didn’t get a chance to look over the plans. When it was time for me to read, I turned around and grabbed the story… The Night Worker.

Go ahead… giggle… smirk… chuckle… I surely did. Luckily there were a few other grownups in the room to go along with me… really ‘The Night Worker’ – it’s just one of those funny titles.

After the reading the book (for the record, it’s about a boy who goes to work at night with his father on a construction site – NOT that kind of night worker…) I asked the class what other types of jobs might someone have to stay up all night for?

“Nurse,” said David… he would know, his mom is a nurse.

“Police Officer,” Audra offered.

“Dunkin Donuts! They’re open ALL NIGHT long!” Andy shouted.

"Firefighters," suggested Jason.

In between, I offered comments of praise… ‘Yes, some nurses and doctors are up all night long,’ ‘Sure police officers and firefighters work to keep us safe all night,’ and so on.

Finally, I called on Betsy.

“Rock stars!” She exclaimed with zeal.

“Um, yes, they do work late into the night, but I’m not sure they’re working all night long, they are… um, doing other stuff,” was all I could muster.

We moved on to making our paper construction paper hats and pretending to be in a work zone… oh, yes, I wore my hat. Who says rock stars should have all the fun?

Effort.

Ah Writing Workshop. As we move closer to the end of the school year, we are beginning to ramp up our writing. Most sprouts are flourishing, but there are always a few who resist… they scribble, crumple, rip, and stare… but they don’t really write. We redirect, guide, and try, often without success, to steer them back on track… we also praise those authors who put their nose to the grind.

Today I stopped to read Nicole’s paper. Nicole has struggled academically all year. She has made amazing gains, but still has a long way to go. She had written a lovely story and all the beginning and ending sounds were there along with many other sounds. She had spaces, punctuation, and neat handwriting. She was trying… really trying.

Nicole is a quiet girl. She doesn’t make a fuss over herself and almost never asks for attention. I spent a few minutes reading her story and telling her how wonderful it was. She didn’t say anything, but just smiled.

“What will your next sentence say,” I asked her.

“I put a sun in the sky,” she whispered. She was writing about a picture she made at home.

“Awesome. You get started and I’ll be back in a few minutes to see how you’re doing,” I instructed as I walked away.

This guidance and moving away technique is one I read about somewhere that I find quite useful. I give a simple instruction and let the sprout know I’ll be back to check in and then walk away. It almost always works. I had no doubt it would work with Nicole… she was working independently before I arrived.

I walked away to deal with a few boys who were not writing. I was feeling rather stressed and deflated after trying, unsuccessfully, to guide them back to working. Our Workshop time was over and I was went to ring the bells to signal cleaning up. As I glided by Nicole’s table I looked down and saw, ‘I pt a su’ on her paper. She had done exactly what I’d asked. I waited for her to write her ‘n’ and finish ‘sun’ and then rang the bell.

Instead of giving the directive to clean up, I complemented Nicole on her writing and work ethic in front of the class. Never one to seek the spotlight, she beamed as I told the entire group how hard she had worked on her story. Nothing makes me feel as good as a child who truly tries. Nicole gave her best effort and she made my day.

She gave me a little picture at bus time too. It was the first gift she’s given me all year. That kid made my day today.