BizTown

Friday was finally the day!  Fifth graders from my son's school went to Junior Achievement BizTown.


Me rocking the volunteer smock


Dominic applied for CFO of Sports Northwest... hmmm... sensing a family lineage.  He was proud to get hired, almost like a real job.  He planned out his clothes, and fretted and worried about this day.  I haven't seen him this excited all year.


CFO boy


 Those of you that know me well know that I sit on the fence about Junior Achievement.  Among my peers, I often refer to it as capitalist training.  When you dissect the program, it kinda is.  In a complete function in society way.  Still, I have my reservations about students not having the option to participate if their class is signed up.  I totally support programs such as DECA, but they certainly shouldn't be mandatory.

There is another side to this program.  They do teach about philanthropy and community.  These are important in my book.  However, words like product, customer, net and gross come up a lot, too.

So here's my dilemma.  I absolutely want my children to be responsible in the work place.  I want them to know how to write a check and fill in a bank deposit.  I want them to understand the elaborate process involved in starting a business, the risks one must take, and the community involvement decisions.  So I should clearly want my student in Junior Achievement.

Ahh... but that bohemian side of me thinks about how we are all driven by money and success in the business eye.  I work in a service job.  I could never work in the business world. 



Watching fifth graders simulate a four hour real world experience was... well... like the real world.  These students broke down in exactly the demographics my adult self has become accustom to.  Some jumped in and took it seriously.  Some screwed around the whole time.  Some just stared at the clock until their break.

My group.  My sweet boys Sam and Kye

I hope my children find a balance.  Embrace your community and give selflessly.  But please don't bounce checks while you do this.

The moral of this story:
My son worked his butt off.  He was not one of the offending screw offs.  He sat at a computer and inputted numbers.  He printed paychecks, handled invoices, and billed other companies.  He managed his crew while the CEO was on break.  And Dominic, while on his break, walked by my business to say hi. *smile*  He also told me the 'real world' was not fun.  *bigger smile*

They could spend their paychecks at the various businesses to buy small trinkets.  Pencils, small toys, frisbees.  They could also spend their money on pop and snacks at the cafe.

Dominic came over with an orange pop and bag of popcorn.  He told me, "I'm not going to bother spending my money on these little crap things that will just end up in a land fill."  That's my boy.

At the end of the day, our BizTown mayor made a presentation for the two good citizen awards.  Strong, successful, dedicated workers in their simulated community.  Of course, Dominic won.  Hmm.  There's Chris' boy.


Acting oh so happy about the award



Musical chairs

Walked into Junior Achievement "Biztown" training today with a few school parent friends.  We were among the first there. They guided us to (enter clever name for meeting room B) the sign in table.  Lots of large, round tables dot the room.

Right there, the decision must be made.  Who do I plan to be?

Many times in college I was roasted by friends for being the front and center girl.  Let me clarify.  I sat in the very center of the front row.  First I got out the appropriate notebook and my reliable pen.  Water bottle.  Glasses case.  Highlighter.  Sticky notes.  All lined up.  I should have just sprung for the pocket protector.

Many times the professor would actually utter the words, "... anyone besides Sam that would like to chime in?"

Ya.  I'm that girl.

Then one summer, I was in graduate school, entering a classroom for the first day of class.  Oh, I had my arsenal of school supplies.  I spotted my friend Mary in the back of the class. 

Hmm.  This might be fun.

It is a social convention that generally the seat you take the first day will remain the approximate area you land from that point on.

So I sat in the back with Mary.  She was so funny, with a dry wit.  She didn't stack her supplies at a 45 degree angle like I did.  She didn't even have a highlighter with her.

I spent the rest of the term listening and learning, but quietly, with a sarcastic flare.  I did use those sticky notes-- to write amusing comments back and forth with Mary.  I didn't offer much to the dialogue.  I did the work.  I got an A.  But I did so in the back of the room.  I didn't get roasted because I was doing all the roasting.

Years later, with my big girl pants on, I stand, surveying the room.  I've relaxed a lot since my school days.  I've even realized that I don't have to get an A.

So...I sat in the back corner.  I didn't share any questions or answers.  In general group answering, I muttered.  I took pictures of my coffee cup and played words with friends on my phone.

And you know what?  It really didn't matter.

Upchuck

Warning:  If you think I'm an attractive, smart woman- don't read this.  For the rest of you, continue...

My first few years teaching, I got sick.  A lot.  This happens with most teachers.  Over the years, your immune system builds up and it happens less frequently.  Between teaching and staying home with the kids, I've pretty much reached this status.

Being a substitute teacher is kinda like being a storm chaser.  When a string of snotty nose, barfing-in-the-classroom bugs make there way through a class, I'm sent in as the reinforcement.  I follow the bugs people!

This isn't usually a problem.  Then Thursday came.


I was subbing in a wonderful 2nd grade class.  One of my favorites.  Two teachers co-teach their classes together.  My daughters best friend is in one of these classes.  So many sweet, familiar faces.

Morning went well.  I brought in more Mo Willems books for the kids to read.  We designed our own super hero power bugs.  Wrote in our journals. 

After lunch, I had a stomach pain.  In real time of only about a half hour, I was lightheaded and sweating.  Instead of roaming the class, I positioned myself in a chair.  One of the really annoying inquiring students with a math question came up for help.

My stomach was churning.  Sweat dripped down my back.  This girl had a handful of pretend money, trying to complete the oh-so-hard task of making 52 cents in change.

She held up a quarter.  "Is this 52 cents?"

Gut wrenching discomfort moved down my torso.  "No.  That's a quarter.  It equals 25 cents.  What would two quarters equal?"

Sticks her tongue out in thought... "52 cents?"

My face was sweaty, on fire.  "No.  If you double 25 cents, you get 50 cents."

A light bulb went on for this child.  She decided to share it with me by poking me in the shoulder.  "Hey.  Hey.  Hey, Mrs. Persinger.  That's only two cents less than 52 cents."

I think I'm going to pass out if she pokes me again.

"Hey teacher, why do some of these plastic coins look different?"

Thank goodness for recess.

I run down the hall to the closest adult bathroom, ready to hurl.  A table full of kids working on a project are right outside this single unit bathroom.  Seriously-- who thinks this isn't awkward?

"Hi Mrs. Persinger!"

I answer with what can only be described as a gulp.

Five minutes later, I emerge from the bathroom, spent and pale.  The bathroom I'm sure is not soundproof.  These same students still sit outside the bathroom.

"Mrs. Persinger???"  Their voices were as shaky as I felt.  Ya.  Sure that one is going to be shared at the dinner table for several families that night.

Lumbering back to the classroom, I run into... my son.

"God, mom.  What's wrong with you!?"

So, a half hour before the end of the day, they sent me home.

They actually offered to walk with me.  They actually offered to drive me.

But at least I have my dignity.  Oh, wait... no I don't!

Chicken or the egg?

Long story short... the boy that caused enough stress for Dominic to drop out of Math Olympiad?  He walked up to a football game at recess, and popped a child's ball.

Dominic?  Oh- he tackled him.  Football style.

Let me interrupt here to tell you I have received so many "awesome" and "way to go Dominic" messages from parents that were just waiting for that child to get what's coming!

So of course, Dominic was taken to the Principal's office, got another behavior slip, and missed a day of recess. 

Let me just get this straight.  My son defended a friend that was wronged.  My son didn't let a bully well, bully.  My son took full responsibility and was completely honest.  In my parenting handbook, he's doing all the things that make me proud.  So what are we teaching these kids?

Talking with a friend today, I made a connection I hadn't noticed before.  I was aware that as kids get older, the problems get tougher.  I have also noticed that our school seems to be in a bit of a crisis lately.  What I hadn't noticed was the complicated bully formula that educators are not handling correctly.

Bully is the ten dollar word of this decade.  The problem is children are being bullied, but not receiving any tools to handle it.  There is no bully education.  They haven't formed a task team or parent group to discuss the problem.  The same children keep causing the problems, getting a slap on the wrist, and we actually expect that to change them?

Enter the other children.  The victims.  Given no information or tools to handle a bully, they are taking it into their own hands to handle.  And safe to say however they handle it, they will get in trouble. 

My son flipped off a child.  I get that it was wrong.  He learned from the experience.  What was not adequately assessed is why my son was so angry with the other child.  He had his reasons.

My son stood up to a child that was already pretty ticked off at my son.  A child that had already caused problems in their personal relationship.  A child that regularly picks on other kids.

My son, with courage, put a stop to it.

So again, to sum it up, this is a chicken and egg situation.  If we educated children and took the time to change the status quo, perhaps his intervention would never happen.  Teaching children tools to handle these situations is surely something that will stop the bullies in their tracks, and enable bullied children to cope.  Cope within the accepted behavior.

The way they're doing it now?  Seems pretty ass-backwards to me.

Math frustrations

Remember all those times when your parents told you life isn't fair?

Remember when you realized they were right?

Remember when you had to share that bit of wisdom with your own kids, and watch their bewildered, crestfallen faces absorb this information?

Grrr.

Dominic was chosen for a math Olympiad team at his school.  And yes-- I'm sure you're asking if Chris was a little amused by this.  He has called them the denominators and asked if they were getting matching t-shirts.

The arbitrary group of four that compete together that he was placed in includes a child my son doesn't care for.  Actually, this kid bugs me, too.  This child can be best described as a really smart screw off.

Dominic went to two practices, and came home frustrated and agitated at this other child.  I asked if he needed me to intervene.  He firmly said he thought he could handle it.  Turns out, he couldn't.

I talked to the teachers in charge, and they were disappointed I hadn't said anything sooner.  This was not in reflection of my son.  Just a fact.  These teams are already established and they can't change them.  The only option is for Dominic to drop out and be replaced by someone else.

When I explained this to him, he realized he would have to spend the competition day with this other child.  His exact words were, "No way am I spending eight hours in competition with (unmentioned name!)"

So... he forfeits his spot.

I feel frustrated for him.  I feel frustrated, too.

It is very hard to gage when to say something, when to see if it gets better, or when to give up.  I didn't want to be that parent that came in after just one practice and complained.  I assumed (yes, my first mistake) that they would tell me to just wait and see how it plays out.  I guessed wrong.  They would have changed the teams.

Now it's too late.

There is no fault here.  It just is what it is.  And why?  Right- because life's not fair.

Now I get to give him the second part of that lesson:  Life's not fair, and it never changes.

We all make mistakes

While discussing general "how to live in this world" topics with my kids, I touched on some of my most remembered life lessons.  Not necessarily the biggest, just the ones I remember most.  There are several, and they have helped shape my life.

May 15, 1981, Sacajawea elementary, Mrs. Williams' second grade class.

Ok- wish I could act like I have a photographic, brilliant memory, but actually I only remember the date because it was my birthday.

I remember my 8th birthday was either a Monday or Wednesday, because I distinctly recall it being either Monday marriage day or Wednesday wedding day.  I entered my second grade classroom to pure chaos.  Boys and girls were playing chase all over the room, hoping to catch that special someone for a marriage or wedding.  (You tag them, they have to marry you... if only life was that easy).

Mrs. Williams sat at her desk, silent, with her face propped in both hands.  I know that look now.  I actually knew that look then.  The calm before the storm.  That teacher was about to blow! 

Knowing this, I sidestepped a few potential grooms, and made my way to my desk.

Within minutes, the yelling began.  Boy was she mad.

She lectured and scolded, and then sent four particularly bad offenders outside the classroom to put their heads down.  One was my neighbor Dean.  By the way, totally would have let him catch me on a Monday or Wednesday.  Two others were called... and then me.

It wasn't me!  It was Heather, a first grader in this split class, with the same long honey blonde hair.  I didn't do it!  It was my birthday.

These are all things I should have said, but I didn't.

I spent the morning with my head down, and my mom brought a cake to the classroom in the afternoon.

You're probably wondering where I'm going with this.  Keep reading.

January 2001, Minnehaha elementary, my own first grade class

In January that year, I was very pregnant, teaching first grade at Minnehaha elementary.  One day at lunch, I sat next to a substitute teacher in the staff room.  It was Mrs. Williams.  This next part will show the dedication and love of my second grade teacher.  She turned to me, all grown up and puffed out from third trimester pregnancy, and said, "well, little Sammy Williams."

It was a wonderful lunch, sitting next to my beloved teacher, listening to her happiness that I, too, had gone into the profession.

I told her my second grade birthday story.  She was horrified, and astonished that I remembered it.

I explained to her that it was an important life lesson to me.

What had I learned?

Adults aren't perfect.

When you work with kids, you try to make each feel special and important.  You try to connect with each and every one, as impossible as it may seem.  I learned that day that teachers make mistakes.  Parents make mistakes.

Working with children is a marathon, not a sprint.  She made a mistake and the world didn't end.  She made a mistake, and it was okay.  The first year I taught, I made mistakes.  I also knew that the world wouldn't end, and the students wouldn't hold a grudge, and we'd all be okay.

Only thing better than having someone influence and touch your life is being able to tell them.

It was the best school lunch period ever.

Happy candy day

Let me start by assuring my cynic supporters that I think Valentine's day is pretty stupid, commercially artificial, and exists to make people feel bad.

I do, however, think Valentine's day is a kid holiday.  I loved collecting all the little paper cards, reading them over and over, pasting them in a scrapbook.  I remember in fourth grade when one of the classmates (she's a facebook friend to this day, but will remain unnamed) sent out scratch and sniff valentines.  Oh the technology!

Today, there is rarely a card attached to the mass of candy my kids receive.  Or the candy just has a to and from on the actual package.  Thanks for being my valentine... for about 40 seconds.  Nothing to re-read.  Nothing to paste in a memory book.

I refuse to let my kids give candy for Valentine's day.  I even dislike the assorted non-earth friendly trinkets that you can use in lieu of candy.  This year, my son handed out angry bird cards with a tiny tattoo.  (I caved a little bit).  My daughter handed out valentines that can be folded into fortune tellers, cootie catchers... whatever you want to call them, they are fabulous.

The kitchen table was decorated this morning with a little candy and small gifts for my little valentines.  Then I made them a breakfast of eggs and bacon-- they're going to need the protein to offset the sugar today.

Breakfast at school, chocolate chunk muffins.  Lunch at school, chocolate cake dessert.  During school, sucker sale continues.  End of day, party time.  Cookies and punch served to wash down the candy in their valentine collection boxes.

So basically we celebrate and show love with candy and confections?

sad days at school

I've been blue.  I don't usually advertise my actual problems, nor do I care to share my possible shortcomings.  I always preach to my children "never let them see you sweat."  I don't want to inspire others to think I'm anything but invincible.  But... recently something happened that shook me.  Not even earth shattering, just personal defeat and doubt.

I have been filling in for a teacher on medical leave since sometime in December.  The first few weeks in January, I was there almost every day.  I taught on walking field trips, without electricity in the portable, with my visualizer light blown out, and during snow and holidays.

Eventually, the job became an official "long term medical leave."  Fourth grade, my new favorite grade.

The principal asked me to have a 'mini-interview' with her concerning the job.  Despite the casual sound of this, I actually prepared for it, even dressing up on a casual Friday.  The interview loomed at the end of the day, as a different sub took over the fourth grade class.

I had already bonded with these students.  I had already established routine in the classroom.  Friday night I got the call.  They decided to go a different way.

I could now stand on my soapbox and defend all the thoughts going through your mind, and mine.  I have a master's degree in curriculum.  I am a good teacher.  I know the staff, school, and students.  It really doesn't matter.  Nothing changes.

My reaction from those in the know has almost exclusively been wtf!!?  I am embarrassed.  I am sad.  I'd really rather people think that I just didn't want a long term position right now.  But that would be a lie.

I miss these kids.  I miss the boy that cried on my shoulder about his mother being sick.  I miss the sassy boy that thought he was smarter than me and, realizing I refused a power struggle, started to soften.  I miss the blurting girl that bonded with me when I explained that I also have that tendency, and told her my tools that helped.  I miss the learning support student that actually did work for me.  I miss the five students I've know since kindergarten, when I taught them art lessons.

I have a story for each and every kid, and it's tearing my heart out when they ask "why did you leave us?"

Ugh.  And the new sub... a never before seen young man.  What could this guy do to convince them he's the man for the job that I couldn't do over a year and a half of hard work?  Doubt.  Frustration.  Embarrassment.  Sadness.  Yup- this story's got them all.

So now I plot my new plan.  Teach at a different school?  Return to the college professor route, despite my husbands sighs about more school, less work?  Go into the always advised against 'cause I can't handle the emotions social or charity work?  (I have a child, consumer, and family studies degree, too)  Hold my head high and continue to prove my worth to the principal that doesn't seem to have faith in my abilities?

My tenacity seems to be voting for the last choice.  Sigh.  Here we go again.

Everything old is new again

Our school district doesn't teach from text books and handouts.  The classrooms are full of teacher driven mini-lessons, lots of journaling, and a variety of learning methods.  Hard to follow sometimes as a sub, but worth it for the quality of education.

Today I was working with fourth graders on their Washington state studies.  There actually is a text book for that.  Makes sense... they are learning the slower changing facts about our state:  land regions, agriculture, climate etc...

This book seemed familiar.  I started flipping through the pages and was sure I had seen this book before.  I remember using this book to teach Washington state studies to fifth graders, as a substitute teacher, at Marshall elementary.  Before I became a full time teacher.  Before I got married and had kids.

Could this be right?  Clearly this was an updated version.  Then I came to the page that shocked me.

Washington state governor Booth Gardner.

Seriously?  Checking the publication date of this educational textbook, it was dated 1992... one year after I graduated high school.

Yikes.  Hope things haven't changed much, or these kids will have some sad reports.

Dominic has always been a math whiz!  From the early age of second grade, he has declared his future is in engineering. 

No shock.  At three he was telling me directions in the car.  Spacial math.

At four he was building room covering wooden train designs more intricate than any railway I've witnessed.  Design.

At ten, he is being pushed to compete in higher math levels in middle school. He speaks math like a second language.

His ultimate goal is to attend a good engineering college.  He has already researched many options.  This boy cracks me up.

When reviewing the top engineering schools, we help him set his heart on big names... if we can save to afford it, and he can get the grades, he'll be able to go anywhere.  Why not shoot for the stars.

Berkeley is an obvious choice.  Most reasonably priced of the big name engineering schools.  Shocking sticker price, but half the price of the big name techs. 

He also reasons that staying in state would clearly be a wise choice.  Therefore, his local pick is University of Washington.  Good price.  Not far from home.  Far enough away to have the full college experience.  PAC 12 school, so he can attend lots of good games.  Great engineering program.

Settled.  Good goals.  I support them.

Hmmm... but I was a WSU Cougar.  Ouch.

So now I have my daughter to carry on the Coug legacy.

Maybe...

Oh, and don't forget this...

At least they have goals.

The trouble with fifth grade

Answer:  Fifth grade.

Question:  When do kids start becoming petty, mean, clique-y, emotional, hormonal, and ruthless?

Listening in on a conversation, I was pained to hear how judgemental and dismissive the kids were about their classmates. 

I tried to remember their maturity level is not that of an adult.  Hah- half the adults I know can't reach this goal!

I tried to remember what it was like being a kid.  The hurtful things you say, the grudges you always forget to hold five minutes later.  I know this is a necessary attribute of childhood.  These relationships teach us how to treat others, what to look for in a friend, and how to be a friend.  The pain and embarrassment is simply a
bi product of the process that lets us grow into confident adults.

I tried to remember that I don't shield my children from pain.  Then again, I can't tolerate them causing pain to others.

Gaining attention of the group, I pointedly said they were mean.  I explained that each and every kid has an entire life they know nothing about.  You may view a person as stupid, angry, trouble... but you don't know their story.  You don't know where that person comes from and what they are dealing with. 

These are exactly the children I reach out to.  Children that don't behave properly probably have a reason.  Sometimes they need support, or food, or just love.

My soapbox lecture fell on deaf ear.  They resumed their judgements almost immediately.  I kicked them out of my house.

However, I will reserve judgement.  I don't know their story either.

Wear red for general ed

Budgets are being discussed, as you read this, on general education for Washington state.  There is threat that they will cut the usual eight bajillion dollars. 

Does anyone else think there is a lot of chicken being played?  Every year we are braced for the worse case scenario.  Every year we wear the assigned color, post signs in our yard, and march on the steps of the capitol.  Every year, the worse case scenario does not happen, but we also don't get adequate funding for our educational system.

Does anyone else think they threaten the desperation so that we are happy with what we get?

How is education not a priority?  There is constant complaint that American children are not ready for the global market.  Their math scores are appalling.  They are not conditioned for the drive and expectations to succeed.

And if a child is pushed towards this, their parents complain.  Don't pick on my poor, helpless baby.  Do these parents realize their child's future is paying for their retirement, shaping the direction of the world?

Big concerns for the congressional decision makers... the I've-grown-so-tired-thinking-about-it I-5 bridge?  The general condition of our roads and buildings?  Earthquake preparedness?  The judicial system and our overcrowded prisons? 

Don't we need engineers, police officers, judges and lawyers?  Don't children need adequate educational funding to reach these goals?  Doesn't education itself deter a life of crime?

Put the money in education, people!  In time, we will all reap the rewards.

By the way, just in case, my son wore red to school today.

How do you beat a liar?

As an adult, I've had my fair share of run ins with liars.  I've been accused, I've had conferences, I've tried to tell my side of the story to no avail.  What I've learned is that you just can't beat a liar.

The other thing I've learned is that karma is a bitch, and it will eventually prevail.  I can't stop the liar, but I have to stand with my head high, knowing they will get theirs in the end.

So how do you explain this to a kid?

My son is tangled in a messy situation with tattling and blame involved.  It's easy to dismiss that perhaps my child isn't telling me everything.  Perhaps he is doing bad things.  Enough time has passed, and enough stories conflict and lack any sense for me to know that it is not my child.  And for goodness sake... I hope he's smart enough not to commit the offences once he's under the microscope.

There seems to be a child that has it out for mine.  My child is being accused of being a bully.  Ironic, isn't it.

As an adult, I can sit back and wait for a person to eventually come to justice.  Maybe not in the situation with me, but eventually.  How can my poor ten year old comprehend this while his name is being dragged through the mud?  Where hormonal kids are emotional, hot and cold, and changing every single day?

How can I face my child's name being slandered and walk away?  His bright, clean record taking a blow.

I can take the high road.  I can take one for the team.  I can understand life isn't fair.  I can live with the knowledge that in the end, justice will triumph.

But now you're messing with my kid.

Baby talk

My best friend's daughter currently has a class assigned, high tech baby.  Don't even get me started on the debate about the cost of these high tech babies versus the expense through the welfare system of teenagers with babies.  Not from the same budget, people!

Anyway... I never took a child/family class in high school.  I actually don't remember them as an elective option.  But, we've come a long way since the egg or flour sack of yesteryears.

These babies cry and fuss and need to be fed around the clock.  The experience is to assimilate having a baby.  A difficult baby.  My question is... what is the purpose of this experiment, and does it actually work?

The baby has a scanner embedded to verify the student is actually doing all the work.  The "parent" wears a corresponding bracelet.  Myth number one:  new parents have to do all the work themselves.  Isn't it the first rule of parenting to enlist help?  Doesn't it take a village to raise a child?

This baby needs to be soothed in a variety of computer generated cause and effect situations.  Myth number two:  there is a correct way to soothe a baby.  Finding the solution to lull a baby is a two part process;  the trick, and the maternal instinct.  Neither the baby, nor the parent, have this maternal bond.

Is the theory that kids with these babies will have a light bulb above their head moment when they realize how much their lives would change if they got pregnant?  Myth number three:  a baby is, in itself, a form of birth control for teenagers.  I haven't been a teenager for quite some time, but I don't remember my emotionally and hormonally charged self being swayed by that voice in my head when faced with a cute teenage boy. 

Independent, idealistic teens will balk at the idea of having someone depend on them.  Myth number four:  kids don't want a dependant.  There are girls out there so starved for love, they dream of the idea of having a baby, just so someone will unconditionally love them.  And who thinks having a "pretend marriage" with a guy will deter these longings?

My hope for the future is that my kids won't have kids until they are ready.  All I can do is parent them the best I can.  I believe these years of parenting will trump any mechanical baby.  Therefore, I don't believe kids that lack this parenting will find their purpose over a weekend with a baby doll.

The closest I ever got to having a pretend dependant was a spider Traci and I found at school.  We carried him around for several periods, until he was sadly lost.  I remember making a pencil drawing on a table in the media tech room that said:

Lost.  Richard the spider.  If found, please contact Sam. 

Followed, of course, by a crude sketch for identification purpose.

Never did find Richard, but I didn't have children until I was 27.  Hmmm...

Find the area

Subbed in a great 5th grade class with kids that I've known for years.  No complaints, wonderful day.

Then... math time.  I love the change in curriculum over the recent years that expects kids to understand math, rather than just compute.  Highly useful, especially considering everything is done on computers today.  As a sub, however, I sometimes find it baffling.  There is no teacher book.  There often isn't an answer key.

I took math every year in school.  I took math in college.  I rock at math.  What these kids don't understand is... I don't remember all of it! 

Usually as a sub, I can even fake it.  My best trick is sending them to a resource or other student to find the answer.  I ask for volunteers that want to share their answer, and then start a discussion.  Sometimes, I give a wrong answer just so the kids can show me how to do the problem demonstrate their understanding. 
   
So today, we introduced the students to area.  NOT area that they did in 4th grade.  The 5th grade variety that challenges you, and makes you define the very math concept.  I was asked to correct the pre-assessment tests. 

Star. Star. Check. Star.  I've corrected a million times.  But then I came to number 5.  The area of a triangle.  Searching my brain for all previous knowledge, emptying the corners of my mind, I am completely convinced I have no memory of this.  I didn't know how to do the problem! 

I faked it as best I could.  You'll just have to wait and see...  Then I went next door to talk to another 5th grade teacher.  I started with my plea of "I swear I'm a good sub, and I went to college, and I'm really good at math, and I hope this doesn't sway your decision of using me for a sub in the future, but...  how the heck do you do number 5??"

Thankfully, she laughed.  Then she reminded me that it's half a square.  Right...  No worries, she gave me the correct answer.

When I share these stories with my son, I'm always trying to inspire him to remember we don't know everything.  Sometimes we forget things.  Education is about building on what we know and finding the resources to fill in the blanks.  He always looks at me and says "geez mom, you would think you should know that." 

My favorite thing he says... "maybe you aren't qualified to teach that grade."

Things I love #5, aka Ode to the BFF

In seventh grade, I had to take choir.  Everyone had to take choir.  Don't even get me started on the injustice of taking a bunch of hormonally challenged, voice changing tweens and making them sing.  For grading, each student had to sing a solo or duet in front of the class.  Seriously, I can't make this stuff up.  Luckily, I found a friend that was just as bad a singer as me to duet with.  We have been dueting ever since.

Traci has been my best friend for 26 years.  Years full of adventure, boys, children, and heartache.  Through it all, she has been my rock, my soul mate, my confidant, and the best friend a girl could ask for.

My favorite thing about this scenario is knowing at any given time, any given moment, no matter what, there is someone out there that is my biggest fan. And I am her biggest fan.  Sure I have a husband, and he is my fan as well.  While I intend to hang onto him, there is magic in the phrase 'boys will come and go, but a best friend lasts forever.'

So on to the gushy part.  That's right, I haven't even done that yet!  Traci is wickedly smart, naturally beautiful, and hysterically funny.  She has a laugh that my parents have always called contagious, and I really do laugh more when I'm with her.  She turns every experience into an unforgettable adventure.  She is the strongest person I know and can overcome obstacles that amaze me.  She amazes me.

She is graduating from nursing school in December, and I couldn't be happier or more proud of her. 

My BFAAFNMW is truly a jewel.

Presenting the class of 1991

I attended my 20 year reunion this summer.  The best friend flew up because she was a big ol' nerd like me I knew I'd enjoy it more with her.  Facebook posts and twitter tweets always share the passing comment... went to my reunion!  Here's what they aren't telling you...

1.  Your nerves will transport you back to the insecurities of times forgotten.  When the husband dropped us off, I actually knocked on the car window and said "I don't want to go."  This will pass... eventually.

2.  You will feel the desire to be the most successful/ best looking/ happiest person in the room, while every other person there is doing the exact same thing.  Warning:  If you are actually this person, no one will like you.

3.  Online profile pictures do a great justice to the aging process.  In person, these people will look older.  You will look older.  We will all look like the sleep deprived version of our former self.

4.  Old friends will continue to be a warm place to land.  Decades will melt, and you will feel home.

5.  Someone will have died.  Maybe several someones.  Face this and grieve, it's only going to get worse the older we get.

6.  You will experience a large growth in your facebook friends.

7.  You will tell someone you liked them in high school.  In return, someone will tell you they liked you in high school.  Mulligan, anyone??

8.  If you are lucky, someone will say you became hot.  In return, you will say "...what do you mean became??"

Can't 'weight'

The first time I held my best friend's baby, all I could think was... how heavy is this kid??  Seriously, my arm might fall off.  A small anxiety attack of  'I will never have children because I couldn't lift them' entered my mind.

Then in a calm, motherly way, the bff explained"...you get used to it as they grow."  Ahhh... breathe.  Like weight training, you don't start with the heaviest weight.  One of my first useful pieces of mommy advice.  And sure enough, holding my own 7 lb bundle was easier.

Probably wonder where I'm going with this...

Today is my first day back in the classroom as a substitute teacher.  Love my job.  Love the flexibility, love seeing my own kids in their school, love the array of faculty and students I get to work with.  I love trying to learn the name of every kid in school (never achieved, but you'd be surprised how close I can get).  I love variety, spontaneity, and change.  But...

The students have been back for a few weeks.  Classroom communities have been established.  Routines are in place.  For some, the honeymoon period is already over.

I am being handed a 20 lb baby.

I will need a nap.

Update

Just a quick update on my wonderful children.  I don't usually brag about my kids... who wants to hear that.  I figure, however, if you are on this blog, you came to me.  You are my captured audience.  You have to hear me brag. 

The last day of school is always such a melancholy, bittersweet experience.  They have snacks at school, exchange phone numbers, and try not to cry.  Then they head home with the whisper of summer behind them.  Quite a lot for a kid to digest in one day.

Today they sprang through the door with their report cards.  Dominic had already ripped his open on the bus, as he always does.  Ripley, of course, didn't realize it was in her bag.   At our school, getting a "3" means you are good, you are smart, you've done your job.  "4" is gods score.  They do not part with these easily.  My brilliant son received...drum role please... 8 of them!  Couldn't be prouder.  Kindergartners rarely receive a "4."  Ripley got three! 

To top off the day, we joined Dominic's football team for an end of season pizza party.  There he received his trophy.  I asked him if it was a plastic trophy or a blood, sweat, and tears trophy.  He blushed, and mumbled "blood, sweat, and tears."

Congratulations to my beautiful and brilliant children.  I couldn't be prouder.

Class of 2022

Class of 2022? Is this what Ripley is? This week was Ripley’s kindergarten graduation. She was all tickly with excitement about this, shouting out things like, “I did it!” Hmm? I am always so proud of my daughter’s accomplishments. The first time she walked, poured her own juice, rode a scooter. I adore the wonder in her eyes as she embarks upon new adventures, thirsty for success. But this… I’m just not sure about.

The parenting pendulum always swings in opposition to the previous generation. We are always trying to protect and correct mistakes from our past, only to end up with new mistakes, and a child that will inevitably swing their pendulum the other direction again. Our generation, apparently, did not get rewarded for every accomplishment. We long for our children to feel victory, pride, and acceptance. But are we so worried about their self esteem, that we lower the bar of achievement? My son has learned to put his awards into two categories: 1. Mandatory 2. Blood, sweat, and tears. He know that participating in activities often results in gaining a mass distributed certificate or plastic topped trophy. He also knows that some rewards are truly earned. Not always the shiniest or biggest, these accolades you feel in your gut. This distinction, I hope, will allow my children to feel self esteem and acceptance simultaneously. My first graduation, from high school, felt victorious. My second graduation, from college, I wore a t-shirt under my robe and talked to my friends during the ceremony. My third graduation, from grad school, I went to the driving range and drove a go-cart, finishing the night at a sports bar. I didn’t need to go… even though I’d finally achieved the honor sashes. I finally figured out that success is intrinsic. I hope my children don’t burnout from these many graduations and plastic trophies. I hope they strive for greatness…viewed by others and themselves. I hope they soar. Congratulations Ripley, class of 2022