Do I really work here?!?!

I used to ask that question because I dreaded going into work, knowing that something crazy was bound to happen.

Now, I ask that question because I can't quite believe that it's true.

I can't stop talking about our kids and coworkers. My colleagues are smart and professional; our students are adorable and SO excited to be at school. I asked a student today if he would be at school with his teachers until 5:00 (students were dismissed at noon), and his response was, "I wish!"

It blows my mind. And is incredibly, incredibly motivating.

New year. New School. New inflection. Same blog. :)

Hater Blockers

I found this picture on my cell phone- a memory of one student's attempt to block "haters."

School is OUT!

I finished the year, told everyone goodbye, and officially "left my job" on Facebook. What could possibly make it more official than that?

I definitely experienced a range of feelings in the hours following those final moments at school-- but they were complicated by other events, like returning the rental car I had for over a month even though my car still isn't fixed, coming home to pack for my upcoming trip to Georgia, and realizing that with the end of the school year comes the end of my Teach for America experience.

Now I have to figure out what I want to do with the rest of my life.

But since this blog has been primarily devoted to my life as a teacher (and not a human being), I'll probably keep writing about school-related stuff over the summer. Memories of my kids, thoughts on pedagogy, word-for-word recitations of conversations I've had about education. Scintillating stuff, I'm sure.

And while I'm thinking about it, I really want to share this one particular memory.

Yesterday, I ran into one of my students from last year, who is now in 2nd grade. He always reminds me of our "handshake, hug, or high-five" routine. Each morning, I greeted my students at the door with the question, "handshake, hug, or high-five?" and they chose how they wanted to be greeted. Most of my first-grade babies would enthusiastically respond, "ALL THREE!" and we would proceed to shake hands, hug, and then high-five. This particular student, however, would instead respond, "ALL TWO!" with equal enthusiasm. He didn't like shaking hands-- he just wanted a hug and a high-five. I often thought about explaining to him that the phrase, "all two," didn't make sense. I mean, he wasn't asking for all of the options. And even if there had only been two options, it would be more appropriate to respond with, "both." But I never had the heart. I mean, who would remember the kid who said, "I'd like a hug and a high-five, but not a handshake"? Exactly.

Randomness (with pictures!!)

Just wanted to share some "graphic design" my kids have been working on in the computer lab. . .





And some pictures one of my students took at the farm . . .



Moo . . .



"You guys act like you've never been to a farm before."
"We HAVEN'T been to a farm before! We're city kids."



"Yo, Ms. Jenkins, Mr. Crooke's brother be CUTE! He has those deep dimples!"



And a random, (somewhat) forgotten quote:

"Ms. Jenkins, you need more pizza than that. We're black kids. We're GREEDY."
Note: "Greedy" in this context refers exclusively to food.

last days

For the past few weeks, I've kind of been "done" with school. It's been sort of like living life in a holding pattern-- you've "arrived" at your destination, you can SEE it, but you aren't actually there. You're just hanging out, flying in meaningless circles (triangles?), waiting until someone says, "ok, you can land now." Except in this case, I've been waiting for someone to say, "school is over now."

Except this week, I've sort of broken the tradition position of, "how many more days?" I haven't been teaching anything, or even attempting to teach. I'm done, remember? Instead, we've been playing educational games and cleaning out the room. I'm playing games with my kids, and watching semi-educational movies- you know, the kind that are based on literature we've read or have a good message. I've been spending time with my kids, just talking to them about what they want out of life.

I've also told them that I'm not coming back to our school next year, and have been fielding questions/trying to explain to them that I'm NOT leaving because of them.

But what I'm realizing is that I should have done this a long time ago. I should have spent a lot more time enjoying my kids' company, getting to know them as people and not just students, and listening to the things they really care about. Because basically, my kids are pretty amazing (and hilarious) people.

Today, at the end of the day, I got permission to walk to Barnes and Noble with one of my students. I wanted to take her to Barnes and Noble so I could help her pick out a math workbook to review over the summer. Over coffee (and a Pepsi), she told me that she was thinking last night about all of the times she's yelled at me or not followed directions or been rude or whatever . . . and how amazed she is that I'm still there, trying to help her.

I don't flatter myself by claiming to have changed someone's life, but I really do hope that my perseverance has had some sort of impact next year. Honestly, if one kid pays a little more attention next year and takes her education a little more seriously, this whole year was worth it for me.

And hopefully, in September, I'll remember to listen to my kids and enjoy hanging out with them from the beginning of the year, instead of waiting until June.

If you pay me $2, I'll stay at home!

At the end of school today, one of my students came over. I had given him $1 for "beating me" in a Sudoku competition (I was helping other students, not actually competing, just for the record. Unlike most of the people on that TV show, I AM smarter than a 5th grader, and most 6th graders, too). He put his hands on my shoulder, and said, "Ms. J, if you give me $2, I won't ever come back to school anymore. I'll be absent every day for the rest of the year! I promise!"

Maybe I need to stop being so transparent about my frustration that ALL of my students are still showing up (I only had TWO kids absent today-- better attendance than yesterday or Friday).

I do enjoy spending time with them, it just gets so loud with all of those kids in my room!

We're all professionals, right?

My classroom phone rang at 10:45 this morning. "__________'s mom is here to see you. She says you'll wait until you bring your class down for lunch."

So after I dropped my kids off for lunch, I went to the front desk. After taking care of a few details, I walked over to the student's mother. She was standing with his aunt and an administrator.

As I began to greet then, I was met with the administrator's hand in my face-- think "talk to the hand, 'cause the face ain't listening," circa 1992-- and (I swear, this is word for word) "You need to stay out of our conversation, Ms. Jenkins."

To which I replied, "I'm sorry, I received a call from the front desk saying that _____'s mother was here to see me."

I was then told that it was inappropriate to have a conversation with a parent in the middle of the hallway, even though she had been having a conversation (the one I was supposed to stay out of) with the same parents in the hallway only moments before. So I took them upstairs, to my room, where we had a very pleasant conversation about how _____ is very smart, but plays too much and is behind academically because of it.

Apparently, they received a letter yesterday saying he wasn't allowed to come back to our school next year. I don't know anything about that. Seriously. I guess that was another conversation I needed to stay out of.