This summer I had the amazing opportunity to attend Steve Spangler's Science in the Rockies, an amazing three day conference that taught me how to make science an exciting experience for kids. Check out Steve's website here: http://www.stevespanglerscience.com/. Also, to see photos and video of what I, my colleagues and 175 other teachers did, visit here: http://web.mac.com/stevespanglerscience/SITR2008/Friday.html.
Steve Spangler is quite a guy. He has that passion for teaching that those of us who love what we do can relate to. Every aspect of his presentation was how to get the kids involved, and how to make it all about the kids.
Along with obtaining an enormous amount of information about science, Steve said something that really resonated with me. He said that if a teacher isn't nervous about the new school year starting, then it is time for that teacher to retire.
Well, my new school year starts in 10 more sleeps, and I am nervous as all get out. Guess that means I have at least another year in me.
This will be my sixth year doing this, a relatively short time on the one hand, but long enough to have gained some confidence on the other. And I am confident that I have some wonderful things planned (we're talking lots of science, people! Science in preschool - how cool will that be?). I am confident that I am able to talk the language of the three year old, and I am confident that most of the stuff that has been awesome in the past will most likely be awesome this year.
Why am I nervous? What if the class doesn't "gel"? What if my ability to communicate with a three year old suddenly fails with this new group of kids? What if they suddenly realize I am not all that cool? What if they don't think I'm funny? What if they aren't potty trained? What if I suddenly become incontinent? What if more than a couple of them are biters, or spitters, or temper tantrum throwers (I can handle two or three, more than that, I need reinforcements).
I work in a cooperative preschool. This means that the parents are part of the teaching team, they are part of their children's education. At least one parent is in the classroom with me every day. Pretty awesome, but a lot of my nerves come from wondering what the parents are thinking about me.
The first few weeks in my class are chaos. A wonderful, loud, unorganized, chaos. I give the kids time and freedom to explore their classroom. Little by little we get down to business, eventually a routine is achieved, but I leave a lot of that up to the kids. For example, I might have written on my daily schedule 15 minutes for music. But if the kids have found a musical groove, I am not going to cut things short just because time's up.
I am nervous that parents aren't going to get that. That the chaos will drive them nuts. And they won't understand how important it is. I try to give everyone a head's up before school starts, and I hope that each and every parent that walks into my classroom will experience the absolute joy of watching their child learn how to navigate in this new environment.
You know what? I am nervous. But I am also really excited. I absolutely love what I do, and I simply can't wait to get to know my new students, and their families, and have yet another incredible year together. All that other stuff? I can handle it - except maybe the incontinence, but hopefully I have a year or to left before that becomes an issue for me. Maybe when that happens, the nervousness will have worn off and it will be time for me to find a new career. Spokesperson for Depends, perhaps?
Sunday, August 3, 2008
Friday, August 1, 2008
Mommy, Don't Leave!
Separation anxiety.
I always tell people that my oldest daughter had terrible separation anxiety. That it was hard for her to be away from me. When she started preschool, it was terrible - she would cry and beg me to stay, and I would, sometimes for the whole day.
Looking back, I now think it was me with the separation anxiety. I hated leaving my daughter with anyone that wasn't me - only I knew what was best for my child. No one could possibly understand her as well as I could, and take care of her needs the same way that I could. That list of no one included her father, her grandparents, and pretty much anyone who wasn't me. Obviously, I thought quite highly of myself.
When it was time to start preschool, I had done my homework. I researched (at the library, no less, this was back when AOL was new-fangled) and studied about all the different types of preschools there were - and there were, and are still, many different schools of thought in the preschool world. Montessori, cooperative, Reggio Emilio, Waldorf - yikes! But I studied each one and visited countless preschools. The school I finally chose - where I teach now - offered a warm, loving environment, had a cooperative philosophy, and was highly recommended by not only parenting publications in my area, but other parents. I visited this school a number of times, with my daughter, and felt really good about my decision.
Then why couldn't I leave her? Why did I have to stay with her and hold her hand? Because she was crying, and what kind of mom would I be if I left her when she was crying?
As the time for beginning preschool approached, I had numerous conversations with my daughter about preschool. I talked a lot about how big she was, how she would make lots of friends, how much I would miss her and how I would count the minutes until I came to pick her up. Looking back - I gave a lot a baggage to a three year old; did she really need to feel responsible for me missing her? Or that I would be so lonely I would count minutes until she was back with me again? No wonder she cried, and didn't want me to leave.
And during these crying sessions at drop off, I would hold her and cry too, more often than not. I would tell her that school is really short, and that I would be back real soon. I even promised her I would wait in the car, and wouldn't leave in case she needed me. And believe it or not, I did just that.
So, what did I teach my daughter in those early years? That it was her job to make me happy. That I was not OK when she was at school. That it wasn't OK for her to be away from me, because I was sad. That she should be with me and not at school. That she was responsible for my happiness.
OK, guilt maybe forcing me to lay it on a bit thick, but when I look back to my daughter's first year of preschool, I cringe. Here I was, trying to be perfect Mom, and really, I was not making an important transition in my daughter's life very easy. Hindsight being what it is, I know now that the transition was mine too. I needed to accept that in order for my daughter to be self-confident and self reliant, that I had to allow her to be around another people. I had to trust my decisions, and allow her to venture off on her own. And I had to accept the fact that my way was NOT the only way. As a matter of fact, the more people she was exposed to, the more well-rounded and self-confident she would become.
I am lucky that my daughter's first teacher was a patient and kind woman who had experienced exactly what I was going through. She held my hand, after weeks of my angst, and assured me that if my daughter didn't stop crying in 20 minutes, that she would call me. But she was certain that if I simply said, "Good-bye, I will see you when school is over", and left - the campus - that my daughter would be fine. And eventually the tears would stop, and before I knew it she would run into the classroom without a backwards glance.
And you know what? She was right.
I always tell people that my oldest daughter had terrible separation anxiety. That it was hard for her to be away from me. When she started preschool, it was terrible - she would cry and beg me to stay, and I would, sometimes for the whole day.
Looking back, I now think it was me with the separation anxiety. I hated leaving my daughter with anyone that wasn't me - only I knew what was best for my child. No one could possibly understand her as well as I could, and take care of her needs the same way that I could. That list of no one included her father, her grandparents, and pretty much anyone who wasn't me. Obviously, I thought quite highly of myself.
When it was time to start preschool, I had done my homework. I researched (at the library, no less, this was back when AOL was new-fangled) and studied about all the different types of preschools there were - and there were, and are still, many different schools of thought in the preschool world. Montessori, cooperative, Reggio Emilio, Waldorf - yikes! But I studied each one and visited countless preschools. The school I finally chose - where I teach now - offered a warm, loving environment, had a cooperative philosophy, and was highly recommended by not only parenting publications in my area, but other parents. I visited this school a number of times, with my daughter, and felt really good about my decision.
Then why couldn't I leave her? Why did I have to stay with her and hold her hand? Because she was crying, and what kind of mom would I be if I left her when she was crying?
As the time for beginning preschool approached, I had numerous conversations with my daughter about preschool. I talked a lot about how big she was, how she would make lots of friends, how much I would miss her and how I would count the minutes until I came to pick her up. Looking back - I gave a lot a baggage to a three year old; did she really need to feel responsible for me missing her? Or that I would be so lonely I would count minutes until she was back with me again? No wonder she cried, and didn't want me to leave.
And during these crying sessions at drop off, I would hold her and cry too, more often than not. I would tell her that school is really short, and that I would be back real soon. I even promised her I would wait in the car, and wouldn't leave in case she needed me. And believe it or not, I did just that.
So, what did I teach my daughter in those early years? That it was her job to make me happy. That I was not OK when she was at school. That it wasn't OK for her to be away from me, because I was sad. That she should be with me and not at school. That she was responsible for my happiness.
OK, guilt maybe forcing me to lay it on a bit thick, but when I look back to my daughter's first year of preschool, I cringe. Here I was, trying to be perfect Mom, and really, I was not making an important transition in my daughter's life very easy. Hindsight being what it is, I know now that the transition was mine too. I needed to accept that in order for my daughter to be self-confident and self reliant, that I had to allow her to be around another people. I had to trust my decisions, and allow her to venture off on her own. And I had to accept the fact that my way was NOT the only way. As a matter of fact, the more people she was exposed to, the more well-rounded and self-confident she would become.
I am lucky that my daughter's first teacher was a patient and kind woman who had experienced exactly what I was going through. She held my hand, after weeks of my angst, and assured me that if my daughter didn't stop crying in 20 minutes, that she would call me. But she was certain that if I simply said, "Good-bye, I will see you when school is over", and left - the campus - that my daughter would be fine. And eventually the tears would stop, and before I knew it she would run into the classroom without a backwards glance.
And you know what? She was right.
Saturday, June 28, 2008
Once Bitten Twice Shy
I had a parent ask me for advice this week on how to make her child stop biting her friends. Ahh, biting, an issue that is always fun, and not at all embarrassing for the parents, to deal with.
I remember the first time my oldest daughter was bitten in preschool. Being my first child, and not being a biter herself, I was absolutely horrified that this happened. What horrible child did this to my precious baby? What kind of parents bring up a child who bites? I could barely look those poor parents in the eye, I was so self righteous in my anger.
Because, karma has a way of getting you back, my son (and third child) was a biter. And boy, was it ever fun to face the parent's of my son's victims - some as self righteous and indignant as I was.
"Yes, my son was raised by wolves"
"Yes, my son does live in a pen in the backyard"
"Yes, my son does have all of his shots"
It was easier to face the parents who also had a child who was a biter. We could share solutions (muzzles, wiring the jaw shut) and techniques for curbing the biting.
What this experience taught me was that biting is a fairly common thing in the preschool world, and gave me some insight on how to deal with biters when I became a teacher. Every year, I have a biter or two. In general, the biting phase is a short one, and once the reason for the biting becomes clear, it can be stopped.
A lot of times, biting is simply an act of frustration. The child gets so angry that the only way to get his point across is to use his teeth. With this biter, I talk about using words, walking away, and other techniques to get the point across. Another good solution is to make the biter care for his victim. Have the biter help the bitee wash the wound, get the bitee ice, and then sit with the bitee until the bitee feels better. Sometimes, after seeing all the pain their bite casued, the biter will think twice about biting again.
One year I had a biter who bit for the sake of biting. This was harder. One day, I stopped him as his victim's arm was in his mouth.
"Stop! Why are you trying to bite your friend?"
"Because it looked like his arm would fit in my mouth"
I....had nothing. Especially when the victim also thought it was interesting that his arm fit in the biter's mouth. The genius words I came up with for this situation?
"We only use our mouths and teeth for eating"
I said this to this little guy several times during the year - I am happy to report that he currently uses his mouth for its intended use - most of the time.
As for my son? He is no longer a biter. What stopped him was a combination of a huge consequence ("no sleepover with your aunt next time you bite, young man!"), as well as getting bitten himself. ("Gosh, mom, it really hurts when a friend bites you")
The parents of my son's biter were absolutely mortified that their son bit mine. Poor things couldn't look me in the eye for weeks. It wasn't until I thanked them for curing my son of his biting that they actually made eye contact with me again. And they realized that although biting is never a good thing, for some kids, it is a normal thing. And, like most phases, it usually passes.
I remember the first time my oldest daughter was bitten in preschool. Being my first child, and not being a biter herself, I was absolutely horrified that this happened. What horrible child did this to my precious baby? What kind of parents bring up a child who bites? I could barely look those poor parents in the eye, I was so self righteous in my anger.
Because, karma has a way of getting you back, my son (and third child) was a biter. And boy, was it ever fun to face the parent's of my son's victims - some as self righteous and indignant as I was.
"Yes, my son was raised by wolves"
"Yes, my son does live in a pen in the backyard"
"Yes, my son does have all of his shots"
It was easier to face the parents who also had a child who was a biter. We could share solutions (muzzles, wiring the jaw shut) and techniques for curbing the biting.
What this experience taught me was that biting is a fairly common thing in the preschool world, and gave me some insight on how to deal with biters when I became a teacher. Every year, I have a biter or two. In general, the biting phase is a short one, and once the reason for the biting becomes clear, it can be stopped.
A lot of times, biting is simply an act of frustration. The child gets so angry that the only way to get his point across is to use his teeth. With this biter, I talk about using words, walking away, and other techniques to get the point across. Another good solution is to make the biter care for his victim. Have the biter help the bitee wash the wound, get the bitee ice, and then sit with the bitee until the bitee feels better. Sometimes, after seeing all the pain their bite casued, the biter will think twice about biting again.
One year I had a biter who bit for the sake of biting. This was harder. One day, I stopped him as his victim's arm was in his mouth.
"Stop! Why are you trying to bite your friend?"
"Because it looked like his arm would fit in my mouth"
I....had nothing. Especially when the victim also thought it was interesting that his arm fit in the biter's mouth. The genius words I came up with for this situation?
"We only use our mouths and teeth for eating"
I said this to this little guy several times during the year - I am happy to report that he currently uses his mouth for its intended use - most of the time.
As for my son? He is no longer a biter. What stopped him was a combination of a huge consequence ("no sleepover with your aunt next time you bite, young man!"), as well as getting bitten himself. ("Gosh, mom, it really hurts when a friend bites you")
The parents of my son's biter were absolutely mortified that their son bit mine. Poor things couldn't look me in the eye for weeks. It wasn't until I thanked them for curing my son of his biting that they actually made eye contact with me again. And they realized that although biting is never a good thing, for some kids, it is a normal thing. And, like most phases, it usually passes.
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
Mobile Sensory Experience...in the Summer
This week I took my my kids to the community pool which is conveniently located across the street from my house. We like this pool, it has an awesome play structure, big water slides and a high dive, features which the pool in our backyard doesn't offer. And, since we live in a small(ish) town, inevitably we see friends when we go there. Another feature our backyard pool doesn't offer unless I decide to put forth a little effort.
As luck would have it, on this visit, a former student was their with his family. Students, both current and former are always excited to see me at the pool - and I like seeing them. Mostly, because I know they are not looking at my thighs and thinking, "Get some sun and visit a gym, girlfriend!" They just want to show me how they can hold their breath, or blow bubbles, or see how I shriek when they splash me with water.
So, I am sitting in the shallow end of the pool, keeping an eye on my kids and conversing with this former student. He is sitting in front of me, talking a mile a minute about how he can't wait until he is tall enough to go on the water slides (an important right of passage in our neck of the woods). Suddenly, he decides he is leaving me for someone more interesting, and he grabs onto my leg to pull himself up out of the water. And since my freshly shaven leg provided no traction, he slid right back down again. At which point he said, "Why isn't your leg pokey like in school, I need it to help me get up!" I suggested he wait a few days, and then meet me at the pool again, I would have all the pokies he would need at that time.
And there I have my excuse for not shaving this summer - what if a former student needs to use my leg as a prop to get out of the pool?
Yeah, not sure that will fly, especially as the hair gets long enough to braid. (heading to the shower to remove pool traction)
As luck would have it, on this visit, a former student was their with his family. Students, both current and former are always excited to see me at the pool - and I like seeing them. Mostly, because I know they are not looking at my thighs and thinking, "Get some sun and visit a gym, girlfriend!" They just want to show me how they can hold their breath, or blow bubbles, or see how I shriek when they splash me with water.
So, I am sitting in the shallow end of the pool, keeping an eye on my kids and conversing with this former student. He is sitting in front of me, talking a mile a minute about how he can't wait until he is tall enough to go on the water slides (an important right of passage in our neck of the woods). Suddenly, he decides he is leaving me for someone more interesting, and he grabs onto my leg to pull himself up out of the water. And since my freshly shaven leg provided no traction, he slid right back down again. At which point he said, "Why isn't your leg pokey like in school, I need it to help me get up!" I suggested he wait a few days, and then meet me at the pool again, I would have all the pokies he would need at that time.
And there I have my excuse for not shaving this summer - what if a former student needs to use my leg as a prop to get out of the pool?
Yeah, not sure that will fly, especially as the hair gets long enough to braid. (heading to the shower to remove pool traction)
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
In Their Own Words
At the end of the year, a perk of being a teacher is you get some pretty cool gifts. My favorite gifts are the ones that somehow commemorate my students. Being able to look back and remember those little faces from years past is so cool.
This year my class made me a scrapbook. It is absolutely awesome. It has an amazing photo of each child, a picture they drew, and questions that they answered about preschool and me in their own words. I want to share some of their answers, because, seriously, three-year-olds have some amazing insight!
Question: What do you love best about your preschool?
Answers:
This year my class made me a scrapbook. It is absolutely awesome. It has an amazing photo of each child, a picture they drew, and questions that they answered about preschool and me in their own words. I want to share some of their answers, because, seriously, three-year-olds have some amazing insight!
Question: What do you love best about your preschool?
Answers:
- Cleaning, because we get to go outside
- When I get to hold the flag
- Playing, because I love to play. Playing gives me the energy to get all that food out of my tummy.
- The playground
Question: What does Mrs. V. smell like?
Answers:
- soap
- honey-apple
- apricots
- flowers
- like "pretty"
- blue ballerina
- peppermint patties and polka dots
Question: What does Mrs. V. wear to school?
Answers:
- her bunny hat
- her Def Leppard shirt
- her shirt, her panties, and coat
- crocs
- pants and crocs and pink shirts
Question: What was your favorite thing you did in preschool this year?
Answers:
- Rodeo Day
- learning about beautiful
- going on field trips
- making ice cream
- making lots of friends
It would be very interesting to have these students come back to me in five or six years, and read some of their answers to the questions they were asked. I wonder if the impression they will have of their preschool experience at that time will be at all similar to the wonderful moment in their lives that I have captured forever in an amazing book made for me by amazing parents.
Sunday, May 25, 2008
Mobile Sensory Experience...Continued
During the last week of school, we always have a Pajama Day. And this day is exactly what it sounds like - we all wear our pajamas to school. And everyone must wear their jammies, including me as well as the parents that are working in the classroom that day.
Pajama Day always stresses me out. Even though I know it is coming, I am always caught off guard, and find myself running to Wal-mart the night before to purchase myself appropriate jammies. Because, seriously, who wants to see me wearing a ratty t-shirt over my husband's boxers?
This year I purchased a night shirt and some "sleep pants". Which I guess is the new term for "soft comfortable jammie bottoms that you wear to bed". I felt I was dressed ok for preschool - nothing showing that shouldn't, and all embarrassing lumps properly camouflaged. Yep, I was feeling pretty good.
Until I got to school. I was laying on one of the tables in my room (see, here's the thing about wearing pajamas to work - you feel sleepy all day. I had set my room up, and then was compelled to lay on the table because I was just....so....tired....). I was laying there, on my side, talking to one of my coworkers (school had not yet started), when her son, a former student, walked up and started punching my behind. At my repeated requests to PLEASE STOP, he then started pinching my bottom. "It is so soft and fluffy!" was his justification for his actions. Eventually, I did get up, but for the rest of the day, every time this little guy saw me, he poked me in the bottom.
Later on, during school, we were watching The Wiggles (of course) - we always watch a movie on Pajama Day - and I was laying on my side on the floor with my students. One little girl was leaning on my stomach ("I love how it feels like a pillow") and several kids were sitting behind me. When, suddenly, the kids behind me started poking my behind. Then they were pinching it. And finally, I sit up and ask, "Why are you guys doing that?" Their answer? "Because it looks so soft and squishy."
Ahh yes, what every woman wants to hear about her bottom. Apparently, that Buns of Steel workout that I did that one time in 2004 didn't do its job. And sleep pants, apparently emphasize the soft and squishy qualities of my Buns of Fluff.
I pondered making this my last Pajama Day, but decided against it after I heard from parents how the kids had picked out their pajamas for the day weeks in advance (a big deal at three and four). The kids arrived at school, wearing their special jammies, excited to show me and their friends their awesome pj's. Most of the jammies had a special significance..."my aunt bought them for me," "I pretend I am Spiderman when I wear these," "I am a princess in this night gown," "my sister let me wear her favorite nightshirt."
So, because the kids love it, I will continue Pajama Day, but maybe next year try something other than sleep pants? A thong? Hmmm....where did I put that Buns of Steel dvd??
Pajama Day always stresses me out. Even though I know it is coming, I am always caught off guard, and find myself running to Wal-mart the night before to purchase myself appropriate jammies. Because, seriously, who wants to see me wearing a ratty t-shirt over my husband's boxers?
This year I purchased a night shirt and some "sleep pants". Which I guess is the new term for "soft comfortable jammie bottoms that you wear to bed". I felt I was dressed ok for preschool - nothing showing that shouldn't, and all embarrassing lumps properly camouflaged. Yep, I was feeling pretty good.
Until I got to school. I was laying on one of the tables in my room (see, here's the thing about wearing pajamas to work - you feel sleepy all day. I had set my room up, and then was compelled to lay on the table because I was just....so....tired....). I was laying there, on my side, talking to one of my coworkers (school had not yet started), when her son, a former student, walked up and started punching my behind. At my repeated requests to PLEASE STOP, he then started pinching my bottom. "It is so soft and fluffy!" was his justification for his actions. Eventually, I did get up, but for the rest of the day, every time this little guy saw me, he poked me in the bottom.
Later on, during school, we were watching The Wiggles (of course) - we always watch a movie on Pajama Day - and I was laying on my side on the floor with my students. One little girl was leaning on my stomach ("I love how it feels like a pillow") and several kids were sitting behind me. When, suddenly, the kids behind me started poking my behind. Then they were pinching it. And finally, I sit up and ask, "Why are you guys doing that?" Their answer? "Because it looks so soft and squishy."
Ahh yes, what every woman wants to hear about her bottom. Apparently, that Buns of Steel workout that I did that one time in 2004 didn't do its job. And sleep pants, apparently emphasize the soft and squishy qualities of my Buns of Fluff.
I pondered making this my last Pajama Day, but decided against it after I heard from parents how the kids had picked out their pajamas for the day weeks in advance (a big deal at three and four). The kids arrived at school, wearing their special jammies, excited to show me and their friends their awesome pj's. Most of the jammies had a special significance..."my aunt bought them for me," "I pretend I am Spiderman when I wear these," "I am a princess in this night gown," "my sister let me wear her favorite nightshirt."
So, because the kids love it, I will continue Pajama Day, but maybe next year try something other than sleep pants? A thong? Hmmm....where did I put that Buns of Steel dvd??
Saturday, May 24, 2008
And Off They Go...
My school year has ended.
This is a bittersweet time of year for me. I am filled with pride as I watch each of my little ones use the tools I have given them. I watch them play together, compromising and negotiating the use of popular toys, comforting each other when knees or feelings get hurt, remembering to wash hands not only before eating, but after peeing as well. These kids can sit at Circle Time, and have a relevant discussion about the story we have read, as well as help plan activities for our day.
I am also filled with a little bit of sadness - most of these kids will not remember me in a couple of years. Most of my students will remain at our little school for Pre-Kindergarten, a smaller amount will stay on for Kinder, and then I will see a handful of them at the elementary school where my own children attend. The ones who move onto a different school, I will more than likely not see again. And while I will always cherish the time I spent with them, these kids, if we ever encounter each other again, will wonder who that crazy lady is who is so excited to see them at Wal-mart.
I recently saw a former student, now in second grade. She, of course, had no recollection of me, but her mother kept trying to convince her of how much fun she had in my class, and how much she used to adore me. She simply smiled, and gave me a small hug that was designed to make her mom hush. A few days later, she saw me again, and this time, ran into my arms with a real hug. 'You're the teacher my mom says had a significant impact on who I am today!" Quite a large statement from a second grader - awesome vocabulary! - and while I don't really buy the significant impact part, I am always happy to get a hug from a former student.
This has been a wonderful year for me. I can't honestly say that about every year that I have taught - but this year had a great mix of children and parents; and I feel we all learned so much.
So, as I send my babies on to the next step in their education, I start to ponder many things. How young they are....most have turned four when they leave me, but a few won't hit that milestone until this summer. Yet we expect so much out of them. It boggles my mind that a mere four years ago these children were held in the crook of their parents' arms, all toothless and wobbly headed (Heck, I held many of my current students when they were infants), and now they are expected to control their temper, share, be a kind and understanding friend, see a task through to completion, not miss the toilet, put on their own shoes, clean up their own messes. Wow. That is a lot for such little people. Yet they all rise to the challenge - amazing.
And I worry about them as they move on to a different teacher, and in some cases, a different school. I feel I know all of them so well, will their new teachers see the beauty in each and every one of them, even if it is not readily apparent?
Will they see Garret's* amazing sense of humor as a distraction or for the gift that it is?
Will they understand that Douglas's family is going through a divorce, and his negative behavior is a direct result of that?
Will they figure out that Jake is having trouble adjusting to a new baby?
Will they appreciate Ann's precociousness, and not think she is simply sassy?
Will they work with John's obsessive tendencies, and not just ignore them?
Will they see that the hyper little girl that is bouncing off the walls with her friends used to be so painfully shy that she couldn't even look you in the eye, so this behavior is amazing?
Will they understand that when Steve says unkind words, this is a huge improvement from the talking he used to do with his fists, so he should be congratulated at the same time he is coached on the proper behavior.
My list goes on and on. I have given the teachers at my school the evaluations I wrote on each of my students, but I still worry. I want them to experience the same joy and amazement I did with these kids. And sometimes, to find that joy, you have to be willing to look for it buried way down deep. All kids have it, we as teachers just have to be willing to do the work to locate it, and then nurture it and help it grow.
So, I have a couple of months to regroup and get ready to start all over. My coworkers and I call the beginning of the school year "The Kitten Stage". The first six weeks of teaching three-year-olds is like herding kittens. Imagine trying to get 12 kittens to sit still and listen to a story, and there you have the perfect description of how I will be spending my time come August.
*all names have been changed
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