I don't get it.
Those are the words of literate children as they read instructions on any given written assignment. It happens across the grades. And I don't get it.
This is how it goes: after a lesson, a worksheet is handed out. The instructions are given, an example is done, and there's time for questioning. Sometimes, the children work together in pairs first to discuss what they have to do. After the preamble, the children get started. All seems fine, until a child calls over the teacher. Yes?, asks the teacher. I don't get it, complains the child. What don't you get?, asks the teacher. I don't get what to do, the child insists. Have you reread the question?, asks the teacher. Yes, says the child. Let's read it again, says the teacher. And they do. And magically, without any further explanation, the child understands what to do.
This behaviour is repeated over and over again over the course of the day. It crosses all boundaries. I see this happening with so-called 'bright' children, 'weak' children and 'average' ones, too. It appears to me that for some reason, children learn to question their abilities and mistrust their gut. Increasingly, they rely on teacher verification in order to complete the simplest of tasks. If an assignment looks the least bit challenging, children second guess themselves. And for whatever ridiculous reason, we as teachers are reluctantly buying into the whole thing and consequently spoon feeding them. It's a vicious, frustrating cycle.
Over the years, parents have asked my advice on some tough questions. Often, I'm tempted to provide a response I think is best for their child, but I resist. Instead, I counsel the following: Trust your gut. Almost always, those words are followed by a parent smiling and nodding his or her head. These people know what feels right. I then have to ask myself, when these parents were children themselves, were they compelled to ask the teacher for clarification? Did they second guess themselves as my students do? I tend to think the answer is, yes, they did. So, how is it that we eventually learn to listen to our inner voice?
My favourite TV cop, Columbo, used a technique over and over again in his work. In this fabulous series, the audience knew from the beginning who was guilty. The viewer's fun was watching as Columbo brilliantly put the pieces together to solve the crime. When a conversation with a suspect was over, Columbo would walk away, stop, turn around, look quizzically and utter most nonchalantly, "Oh, one more thing", and then pose the one question he meant to ask all along. This little gesture was meant to trip up the suspect. It worked like a charm.
Whereas Columbo asked a question to confound, children ask to clarify. Columbo asked in order to confuse; children ask to verify. Columbo asked in order to shake the suspect up; children ask in order to be reassured that their gut instincts are correct.
Not so deep down, children know what to do. They've listened to the lesson. They understand the instructions. They may say that they don't get it, but they do. Children question in order to make sure that they're on the right track. This is essential rehearsing, aimed at teaching themselves to trust their gut. It's their version of 'Oh, one more thing'. Our job is to reassure them that they do know what to do. This will result in diminishing the need for children to constantly verify with an adult.
We train ourselves from childhood to trust the little voice inside our head that guides us throughout our lives. It's something that we must heed and never ignore. Still, before we act, we need to test out our thoughts on others. We need to question. We need to challenge. We need to verify. When we have clarity, we can act and act responsibly.
Ahh. Now I get it.
Sunday, February 27, 2011
Sunday, February 20, 2011
Happy Family Day
So tomorrow, three provinces in our great country will be celebrating something called Family Day. It's a new holiday, only three years old in Ontario. Although it is ostensibly billed as a day to be engaged with one's loved ones, Family Day was instituted as an excuse to have a stat day in February. For me, it means a blessed day off work, and yes, I'll be spending it with family.
I'm all for a day off work. Heck, I've already cashed in on the motherlode, the elusive Snow Day (I'm still coming down from that one!). But what perplexes me is why we needed to come up with Family Day in the first place. Couldn't we have built a holiday around an existing one, the ever so meaningful Groundhog Day? After all, Groundhog Day has everything. It has a mascot that can be used as a cute fellow for merchandising. There are nice little rituals that have been built around it, and the good thing is that by 8:00 a.m., it's all over, so we could have the rest of the day to play. It would be a cinch to design some cutesy greeting cards (Don't be afraid of your shadow, Let me be your sunshine...or.... Winter be damned! Put a Spring in your step). For the cinephiles, the definitive holiday movie already exists (and while I'm on this, I would like to mention that this was the second year in a row that Groundhog Day was not aired on TV this past Groundhog Day, and it really pissed me off), so that has been taken care of. Given all of the possibilities to tack on to an existing day, why do we need Family Day?
The strange thing is, I never question the other Days. Valentine's Day is cool. I like that one. St. Patrick's day is fun even though I'm neither Irish nor do I have a need to drink green beer. Mother's Day and Father's Day work for me as well. Labour Day, not so much, because all I do on Labour Day is think about work. But Family Day? Isn't the "Sabbath Day" (choose your day of observance depending upon your religion) meant to be a day to be with family? According to my calculations, that's supposed to be weekly! Are we now deciding that the importance of the family be acknowledged merely once a year, and in only some provinces?
Of course, the next question is, in this day and age, what is the definition of family? The nuclear family as I knew it growing up is quite rare nowadays. There are single families, blended families and who knows what other permutations (wow Hallmark, think of the possibilities!). When it comes to adults, there are parents, in-laws, step parents, grandparents, step grandparents and step in-laws--sometimes in multiples. How does one celebrate when there are so many people involved? One group for lunch and another for dinner?
At school, I am cognisant of the fact that my students don't necessarily fall under the children of two parent family category. Mother's Day and Father's Day is so stressful that for years, we decided not to celebrate them at school, because it was too upsetting for some. The more I think about it, maybe I have it all wrong. Maybe it is precisely because the nuclear family isn't necessarily the norm anymore that Family Day is not such a bad idea. Maybe it's a really good thing.
Family Day, therefore, is a period of 24 hours in Ontario, Alberta and Saskatchewan, where no matter who the players are, no matter how strange or different or unorthodox or how magnificent the combination of people who live under one roof might be to others in the world, we are able to celebrate with our unique family unit. That's pretty cool.
Now all we need is a cute little mascot, some Hallmark cards and a holiday movie!
Whether or not tomorrow is a designated holiday where you live, take a moment to marvel at the uniqueness of your family. And then have a piece of cake.
Happy Family Day to all!
I'm all for a day off work. Heck, I've already cashed in on the motherlode, the elusive Snow Day (I'm still coming down from that one!). But what perplexes me is why we needed to come up with Family Day in the first place. Couldn't we have built a holiday around an existing one, the ever so meaningful Groundhog Day? After all, Groundhog Day has everything. It has a mascot that can be used as a cute fellow for merchandising. There are nice little rituals that have been built around it, and the good thing is that by 8:00 a.m., it's all over, so we could have the rest of the day to play. It would be a cinch to design some cutesy greeting cards (Don't be afraid of your shadow, Let me be your sunshine...or.... Winter be damned! Put a Spring in your step). For the cinephiles, the definitive holiday movie already exists (and while I'm on this, I would like to mention that this was the second year in a row that Groundhog Day was not aired on TV this past Groundhog Day, and it really pissed me off), so that has been taken care of. Given all of the possibilities to tack on to an existing day, why do we need Family Day?
The strange thing is, I never question the other Days. Valentine's Day is cool. I like that one. St. Patrick's day is fun even though I'm neither Irish nor do I have a need to drink green beer. Mother's Day and Father's Day work for me as well. Labour Day, not so much, because all I do on Labour Day is think about work. But Family Day? Isn't the "Sabbath Day" (choose your day of observance depending upon your religion) meant to be a day to be with family? According to my calculations, that's supposed to be weekly! Are we now deciding that the importance of the family be acknowledged merely once a year, and in only some provinces?
Of course, the next question is, in this day and age, what is the definition of family? The nuclear family as I knew it growing up is quite rare nowadays. There are single families, blended families and who knows what other permutations (wow Hallmark, think of the possibilities!). When it comes to adults, there are parents, in-laws, step parents, grandparents, step grandparents and step in-laws--sometimes in multiples. How does one celebrate when there are so many people involved? One group for lunch and another for dinner?
At school, I am cognisant of the fact that my students don't necessarily fall under the children of two parent family category. Mother's Day and Father's Day is so stressful that for years, we decided not to celebrate them at school, because it was too upsetting for some. The more I think about it, maybe I have it all wrong. Maybe it is precisely because the nuclear family isn't necessarily the norm anymore that Family Day is not such a bad idea. Maybe it's a really good thing.
Family Day, therefore, is a period of 24 hours in Ontario, Alberta and Saskatchewan, where no matter who the players are, no matter how strange or different or unorthodox or how magnificent the combination of people who live under one roof might be to others in the world, we are able to celebrate with our unique family unit. That's pretty cool.
Now all we need is a cute little mascot, some Hallmark cards and a holiday movie!
Whether or not tomorrow is a designated holiday where you live, take a moment to marvel at the uniqueness of your family. And then have a piece of cake.
Happy Family Day to all!
Sunday, February 13, 2011
The school fountain of youth
This might have been my best day at school, hands down, EVER! Did I get a raise you ask? Hah, you're funny. Did I deliver a brilliant lesson? Nope. Did our staff room lotto pool win big, meaning that I can retire tomorrow? Wrong again. No, this little moment in time arrived as a gift the other day while on our Grade 5 visit to our Middle School.
Our school is very large and has a few campuses, so because of its size and the enormity of the shock of the impending amalgamation of students into Grade 6, it is customary to introduce the Grade 5's to the spooky world of middle school early on in the year and gradually. On this, their first visit, the children are treated to an impressive guided tour given by the grown up Grade 8's who have been expertly rehearsed. They gawk at the lockers, peek into the library and science labs, and marvel at all that is foreign to elementary students. And then, when it's all over, they get a snack. All in all, a great day.
So what made all this so special for me you ask? It was one of our tour guides. She was a former kindergarten student of mine. I hadn't seen her in years, because she was at one campus, and I had moved to teach at the other. At the beginning of the tour I went over to her and asked, "Do you remember me?" She looked at me with the sweet, angelic eyes I remembered so well and then blurted out the words I'll cherish until my dying day.....
"YES! I do! You're Ms. A's daughter!"
True enough, my daughter had visited the class a few times that year, so my little protégeée must have done the math enough to realize that my #1 would be grown up by now. And yes, I've been told I look younger than my age, but that's mostly due to the fact that I'm vertically challenged; but this was off the chart cool, even if it did come from the mouth of a twelve year old.
As long as I'm digressing, I realized years ago that a young child makes a direct correlation between age and height. Basically, according to a pre-schooler, the shorter the person, the younger he is. I once experimented on this theory in my kindergarten class with my assistant at the time, who is a bit older than I am, and taller. When the children were asked which one of us was older, they indicated that my assistant was. I then stood on a chair and asked the same question. According to my class responses, I must have aged rather quickly, because I now was considered the older one.
Other times, it seems I might be suffering from some Benjamin Button syndrome. On a late Saturday night at least a dozen or so years ago, I was driving my babysitter (who, by the way was also a former kindergarten student of mine and who is now a mother of two) home after an evening out. We were stopped at an intersection, my car was in the left lane. As we were waiting for the light to turn green, a car approached us in the lane to our right. It was packed with a bunch of teenage boys oozing testosterone. They were glancing our way. "Look!" I said to my teenaged passenger, "Those boys are looking at us!" Now I must confess, I love this now grown up lady very much, but I could have throttled her when she turned her head, rolled her eyes at me as only a disgusted teenager can and exclaimed, "They're not looking at US!" And then, to make matters worse, she ared to snicker. At that moment, in her eyes, I was 95 years old and aging by the nano-second.
I have a simple little rule of thumb that I made up that seems to work for me. When I bump into someone I haven't seen in eons and we both recognize each other, I take that to mean that neither of us has aged. I also have come to believe that fading eyesight as we age is a good thing. Each morning when I look into the mirror without my glasses on, I don't see even ONE wrinkle. That is the beauty of poor eyesight. It is a gift from God. He knew when he designed us that women tend to be a bit vain, so He purposely dimmed our vision so that we might always look young....at least first thing in the morning. If that's not divine, I don't know what is!
Of course, we all know the truth. Staying young is all about keeping healthy in body, mind and spirit. It's about laughing and loving. And I think it truly helps being around children, because they remind us what being young is all about.
So no, dear former kindergarten student, I am not my daughter. I'm the mother. What I lack in youth, I'm beginning to gain in wisdom.
But I might just take a trip to the Middle School every so often to visit.
Our school is very large and has a few campuses, so because of its size and the enormity of the shock of the impending amalgamation of students into Grade 6, it is customary to introduce the Grade 5's to the spooky world of middle school early on in the year and gradually. On this, their first visit, the children are treated to an impressive guided tour given by the grown up Grade 8's who have been expertly rehearsed. They gawk at the lockers, peek into the library and science labs, and marvel at all that is foreign to elementary students. And then, when it's all over, they get a snack. All in all, a great day.
So what made all this so special for me you ask? It was one of our tour guides. She was a former kindergarten student of mine. I hadn't seen her in years, because she was at one campus, and I had moved to teach at the other. At the beginning of the tour I went over to her and asked, "Do you remember me?" She looked at me with the sweet, angelic eyes I remembered so well and then blurted out the words I'll cherish until my dying day.....
"YES! I do! You're Ms. A's daughter!"
True enough, my daughter had visited the class a few times that year, so my little protégeée must have done the math enough to realize that my #1 would be grown up by now. And yes, I've been told I look younger than my age, but that's mostly due to the fact that I'm vertically challenged; but this was off the chart cool, even if it did come from the mouth of a twelve year old.
As long as I'm digressing, I realized years ago that a young child makes a direct correlation between age and height. Basically, according to a pre-schooler, the shorter the person, the younger he is. I once experimented on this theory in my kindergarten class with my assistant at the time, who is a bit older than I am, and taller. When the children were asked which one of us was older, they indicated that my assistant was. I then stood on a chair and asked the same question. According to my class responses, I must have aged rather quickly, because I now was considered the older one.
Other times, it seems I might be suffering from some Benjamin Button syndrome. On a late Saturday night at least a dozen or so years ago, I was driving my babysitter (who, by the way was also a former kindergarten student of mine and who is now a mother of two) home after an evening out. We were stopped at an intersection, my car was in the left lane. As we were waiting for the light to turn green, a car approached us in the lane to our right. It was packed with a bunch of teenage boys oozing testosterone. They were glancing our way. "Look!" I said to my teenaged passenger, "Those boys are looking at us!" Now I must confess, I love this now grown up lady very much, but I could have throttled her when she turned her head, rolled her eyes at me as only a disgusted teenager can and exclaimed, "They're not looking at US!" And then, to make matters worse, she ared to snicker. At that moment, in her eyes, I was 95 years old and aging by the nano-second.
I have a simple little rule of thumb that I made up that seems to work for me. When I bump into someone I haven't seen in eons and we both recognize each other, I take that to mean that neither of us has aged. I also have come to believe that fading eyesight as we age is a good thing. Each morning when I look into the mirror without my glasses on, I don't see even ONE wrinkle. That is the beauty of poor eyesight. It is a gift from God. He knew when he designed us that women tend to be a bit vain, so He purposely dimmed our vision so that we might always look young....at least first thing in the morning. If that's not divine, I don't know what is!
Of course, we all know the truth. Staying young is all about keeping healthy in body, mind and spirit. It's about laughing and loving. And I think it truly helps being around children, because they remind us what being young is all about.
So no, dear former kindergarten student, I am not my daughter. I'm the mother. What I lack in youth, I'm beginning to gain in wisdom.
But I might just take a trip to the Middle School every so often to visit.
Sunday, February 6, 2011
Call me indispensable
I took a sick day a few weeks ago. Why, you may ask. Was it a fever? Strep? Doctor's appointment? No. I did have a cold. I was sneezing. I worked my way methodically through a box of kleenex. My nose was drippy, my eyes were droopy, my voice was nasal and my throat was a bit raw. I may even have had a slight fever. But that's not why I took a sick day. I took the day so that I could clean my house.
Sounds crazy, doesn't it? Wouldn't the sane person simply say that they were staying home in order to get better, and then hunker down in bed for the day with a good book or a great movie and a gallon or seven of tea? Probably. But I'm a teacher, and teachers...at least the ones I know...don't follow the rules of the sane.
I'm sure there are many professions where it becomes easier to work sick than to stay at home for a day. Teaching is definitely one of them. Imagine if you will, planning to go away for an overnight, leaving your young child with a brand new sitter who has never met your child. Dare to think that your relatives don't live in spitting distance, so what you leave for that person is all he or she has to go by. Think of all of the things you would have to prepare, all of the things you would need to write down for the sitter including how the house works, child routines, and emergency information (just to name a few), and you will begin to understand the task of being away from teaching for only one day. It's really not much different, which is why teachers tend to come into work sick. It is also why the sick day-when-one-is-not-on-her-deathbed is a coveted thing.
And yes, you are right to say that teachers shouldn't come to school and infect the kids. It's as correct as we teachers are in saying that kids shouldn't come to school with snotty noses or hacking coughs. But they do, and so do we. I admit that we're both in the wrong. I'll try to do better, but for now, this is the reality.
I think that the outside world thinks that teachers come to work when they have a cold because they think that they're indispensable. That couldn't be further from the truth. We all know that we can be easily replaced. No, we come to work when we're sick because we're too lazy to do all the preparation necessary to stay away. In layman's terms, it's just a lot easier to go to work when we're not feeling well than to stay home.
Unless of course the stars collide, like they did that day a couple of weeks ago. I felt crummy, but not too crummy. My work at school was already prepared. I had just the right amount of school work to do at home to keep me busy while I scrubbed floors and wiped my nose. It was the equivalent of a teacher's Festivus miracle.
And yes, I know the big question. Why didn't I simply take a day to convalesce? Why did I need to obsess about making my place spic and span? Why didn't I finish that book, or catch up with back episodes of some show? That my friends, is a blog posting for another day.
In the meantime, I did my housework. And that entire night before, I prayed that I wouldn't wake up in the morning with a fever. After all, everyone needs to be fairly well to enjoy a sick day.
Sounds crazy, doesn't it? Wouldn't the sane person simply say that they were staying home in order to get better, and then hunker down in bed for the day with a good book or a great movie and a gallon or seven of tea? Probably. But I'm a teacher, and teachers...at least the ones I know...don't follow the rules of the sane.
I'm sure there are many professions where it becomes easier to work sick than to stay at home for a day. Teaching is definitely one of them. Imagine if you will, planning to go away for an overnight, leaving your young child with a brand new sitter who has never met your child. Dare to think that your relatives don't live in spitting distance, so what you leave for that person is all he or she has to go by. Think of all of the things you would have to prepare, all of the things you would need to write down for the sitter including how the house works, child routines, and emergency information (just to name a few), and you will begin to understand the task of being away from teaching for only one day. It's really not much different, which is why teachers tend to come into work sick. It is also why the sick day-when-one-is-not-on-her-deathbed is a coveted thing.
And yes, you are right to say that teachers shouldn't come to school and infect the kids. It's as correct as we teachers are in saying that kids shouldn't come to school with snotty noses or hacking coughs. But they do, and so do we. I admit that we're both in the wrong. I'll try to do better, but for now, this is the reality.
I think that the outside world thinks that teachers come to work when they have a cold because they think that they're indispensable. That couldn't be further from the truth. We all know that we can be easily replaced. No, we come to work when we're sick because we're too lazy to do all the preparation necessary to stay away. In layman's terms, it's just a lot easier to go to work when we're not feeling well than to stay home.
Unless of course the stars collide, like they did that day a couple of weeks ago. I felt crummy, but not too crummy. My work at school was already prepared. I had just the right amount of school work to do at home to keep me busy while I scrubbed floors and wiped my nose. It was the equivalent of a teacher's Festivus miracle.
And yes, I know the big question. Why didn't I simply take a day to convalesce? Why did I need to obsess about making my place spic and span? Why didn't I finish that book, or catch up with back episodes of some show? That my friends, is a blog posting for another day.
In the meantime, I did my housework. And that entire night before, I prayed that I wouldn't wake up in the morning with a fever. After all, everyone needs to be fairly well to enjoy a sick day.
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
A Groundhog Day Surprise
I've been giddy for days. I've been like a little girl, running around with fanciful thoughts. It was the anticipation of something that could maybe, possibly happen to me. It was a hope for something I had been wishing for would come true. Honestly, I never thought it could happen, but it did.
The school called a Snow Day.
Gifts are great things. When it comes to birthdays, we know that we'll be getting presents. Sometimes, we send out feelers, so that our loved ones will know exactly what we want. Some of us just go and buy what we want so that we won't get something we might loathe. Everyone hates having to gush at how fabulous the gift is while we loathe it. Yuch. But today was not like that. Today was the surprise of surprises. It was unexpected. And it was perfect.
The news that a big storm was heading this way had been on the news for a week. I ignored it, knowing that my school doesn't close unless the world is coming to an end. It seemed by Monday however, that the people at the weather network seemed to actually think that the apocalypse was coming, so I began to hope in private.
On Monday after work, I plotted my scheme. I was going to hunker down and cook on that day that would be known as the Snow Day. I bought a chicken to make soup. I bought a brisket, for the sole reason that it takes a long time to cook. I was going to bask in the glory of cooking everything that takes too long to make on a regular day. My one problem....what if a snow day isn't declared? No, I thought, I wasn't going to entertain negative thinking.
On Tuesday, I prepared my class. I gave them their work...due for Thursday. I wasn't going to accept that we wouldn't have a day off. But I really didn't believe it would happen.
I didn't touch my ruby slippers three times, but lo and behold, magic! The school called a Snow day before the snow even started.
I tell you, I could have won the lotto, I was just that happy. I was...well, jubilant. Everything that I planned was going to be actualized. But it even got better! The icing on the cake came when I woke up, and noticed that there wasn't as much snow on the ground as predicted. The Groundhog Day storm didn't amount to what they thought. School didn't have to be closed. I know, you think that miracles don't happen very often, but this, my friends, was a true miracle.
And so, today, my heart has been singing while I made my soup and my brisket. This little vacation that came from nowhere has done more for me than some other, longer ones. I think it was because it was so unexpected. It was a little gift that I never thought would materialize. But it did.
So I'm passing a mid-week posting on to you.
Happy Snow Day!
The school called a Snow Day.
Gifts are great things. When it comes to birthdays, we know that we'll be getting presents. Sometimes, we send out feelers, so that our loved ones will know exactly what we want. Some of us just go and buy what we want so that we won't get something we might loathe. Everyone hates having to gush at how fabulous the gift is while we loathe it. Yuch. But today was not like that. Today was the surprise of surprises. It was unexpected. And it was perfect.
The news that a big storm was heading this way had been on the news for a week. I ignored it, knowing that my school doesn't close unless the world is coming to an end. It seemed by Monday however, that the people at the weather network seemed to actually think that the apocalypse was coming, so I began to hope in private.
On Monday after work, I plotted my scheme. I was going to hunker down and cook on that day that would be known as the Snow Day. I bought a chicken to make soup. I bought a brisket, for the sole reason that it takes a long time to cook. I was going to bask in the glory of cooking everything that takes too long to make on a regular day. My one problem....what if a snow day isn't declared? No, I thought, I wasn't going to entertain negative thinking.
On Tuesday, I prepared my class. I gave them their work...due for Thursday. I wasn't going to accept that we wouldn't have a day off. But I really didn't believe it would happen.
I didn't touch my ruby slippers three times, but lo and behold, magic! The school called a Snow day before the snow even started.
I tell you, I could have won the lotto, I was just that happy. I was...well, jubilant. Everything that I planned was going to be actualized. But it even got better! The icing on the cake came when I woke up, and noticed that there wasn't as much snow on the ground as predicted. The Groundhog Day storm didn't amount to what they thought. School didn't have to be closed. I know, you think that miracles don't happen very often, but this, my friends, was a true miracle.
And so, today, my heart has been singing while I made my soup and my brisket. This little vacation that came from nowhere has done more for me than some other, longer ones. I think it was because it was so unexpected. It was a little gift that I never thought would materialize. But it did.
So I'm passing a mid-week posting on to you.
Happy Snow Day!
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