Christmas Letters

  As a student teacher four years ago, I was blessed beyond measure to be placed with Mrs. Blomquist-- Penny by anyone who knew her. She had been teaching twenty-something years at this Title I school. Over time she has watched it become a tough and impoverished area of Arizona, an area most teachers try not to work at. So I jumped in to her classroom to student teach for a semester. She had already entertained countless other student teachers, and I was to be her last. She never tired of my mistakes and questions though, at least her face didn't reveal it! :) She embraced me.
  Penny is a tall, beautiful red-headed lady who possesses strength and elegance at the same time. She is loud with a big smile and bold voice, and she has a friendly way that welcomes young and old alike, from principal to janitor, from teacher of the year to, well, me. Her sense of humor above all  brings life to the classroom! The first week of school I remember her bringing fake boogers, and pretending to sneeze just to see how the kids would react! She has these trick thumbs that make light seem to bounce from thumb to thumb, and she would whip them out at a moment's notice. For one lesson she brought full scuba gear and persuaded me to don the outfit, of course to make the lesson 'more engaging'. I'm pretty sure it was mainly to give herself a good chuckle. Another time at science camp, she convinced me to stuff my mouth full of marshmellows and yell, "CHUBBY BUNNY!" repeatedly in front of 150 sixth grade students. I have the picture to prove it, and the memory of throwing it up into the trashcan too!
  One of my favorite memories of teaching with her was watching parents come in with big smiles because they had once been her students. The cool thing about it was that these parents were so different from her, and to be honest, I wouldn't have expected them to feel comfortable with Penny. Different skin color, different language, different culture, different religion, difference economic class... and yet they loved her, and I could see that she really loved them.
  Penny moved here from New Zealand as a young single woman, looking to be a teacher. She found this Title I school, and the rest is history! She has since married an American and become fully American herself--- that is, other than her unforgettable New Zealand accent. It sounds something like this,

New Zealand's Accent

 Simply put. She is an incredible teacher.

   I was fortunate to be a recipient of the Rodel Charitable Foundation of Arizona's promising student teacher scholarship. Among other things, it included being placed with a renowned mentor teacher who was working in a Title I [a low-income school that receives government funding] school. This is how I met Penny.

  That semester was one that I think back on in moments when I need strength or encouragement. Little does Penny know how much she has helped me teach. I've never met another teacher like her. She gave me everything she had to offer, she laughed with me when I felt like crying, and she really loved and accepted me in the way that I needed... plus, she disciplined my naughty students when I was at my wits end.
  And, Penny landed me my first teaching job... it was two doors down from her! I spent my first year teaching by modeling her, and going to her in times of confusion. Her shoulder was there to lean on, and her advice was invaluable. Thank you Penny, from the bottom of my heart, for your mentorship and your friendship to a fresh youngin' looking to change the world through teaching. After one year in the Title I school, Arizona  made giant cuts to its education department. I was teaching in the largest district in the state, and they laid off all first year teachers. So I parted ways with Penny, and began teaching in a smaller district, but I think of her often.

--
"Rachel, do your best to design lessons that pull students and parents closer. You would be surprised how little they communicate at home. Some do not even speak the same language as their parents."

   I will always remember this, among other things Penny told me. She gave me the idea for Christmas letters. Each year, about 3 weeks before Christmas break, I send home a private letter to each of my student's parents. It asks the parents to write a detailed letter explaining why their child is a gift to them. It asks them to be specific to what makes their child unique, special, and loved. They seal their letters and send them back to me with their children being none the wiser to it.

   The final day before winter break, I hand out the sealed envelopes as well as some specific directions:
 "Class, I love you very much. Each of you are a gift to me, and I will always cherish this year we have together. But there are some other people who love you with all their hearts too. They are your parents." At this point I hear some groans, kids squirm, and a few smile. I have two parent volunteers in the room, and they give me a look like, are you sure this is really going to work? Mr. LaGravinese is also visiting, and he sits watching quietly to see how this all goes down.

   "Your parents have taken the time to write you a private letter, which I have not read. They wanted to tell you why you are a gift to them, and as you read these, there will be no talking, no sharing of letters, and no noise. You will wait quietly until everyone has finished reading."
   In the front row, one of my students grumpily laid his head down, annoyed with me or another student. When I tried to hand him his letter, he burrowed his head further and ignored it. I continued to call out names, "Here you go Chris", "Here's your special letter Marcie", and so on. Finally all the letters are dispersed, and I announce, "You may quietly open your letter and read what you parent has written to you." There is excitement in the air, and students tear into them like there is gold inside, or better yet, Ipads.

   It's silent for a few minutes, and soon I see grins begin to appear on their faces. Up front I hear sniffing from Shelly, who has many times told me that her parents yell at her, and that's why she snaps at everyone in class. To the left I see AJ's cheeks turn rosy red and his eyes become glassy as he reads. His parent and I email daily to discuss behavior and academic progress. Bradley is sitting in the middle of the room beaming from ear to ear as he finishes his letter, and Travis is shyly wiping his tears over in his desk. The time finally comes to an end, and I ask for any reactions. Immediately hands shoot up, and over and over again students repeat, "I am so surprised my [mom/dad/grandma/aunt] wrote this!" Another student (boy!) said, "It made me cry because I felt so happy reading it." Another said, "My dad is really proud of me." Time was limited, so I had to cut them short and simply reaffirm that they are very valuable to their parents.
  The students began their crafts, and it was then that I noticed the boy up front, the one who had been so grumpy earlier. He had his head down, and he was shaking because he was crying so hard. I knew that he didn't have a mother figure, and it was just him and his dad at home, doing the best they could. This boy has been in trouble every year, and 5th grade has been no exception. I quickly became worried that the letter was mean, or that the dad hadn't written anything. (Since the letters are sealed, I never know what is said between parent and child, unless they share it with me afterward.)
   I knelt down close to him, and whispered, "What's wrong? Was your letter ok?... You know I love you very much!" He peeked up from under his arms, and whispered, "I'm.. just.. so happy my dad wrote this." Then he began to cry again.Shelly brought him tissues, understanding exactly how he felt, as she had just calmed down herself.
   Well, it was over for me. Waterworks! I looked up to see Mr. LaGravinese with tears in his eyes, and one of the mom's grabbed me and said how beautiful this activity was. She had watery eyes, and explained that she was expecting the kids to laugh it off, or throw them away.
   I looked back at the boy up front, and saw him  carefully decorating his letter with glitter glue. He had stopped crying, and was putting the most detailed effort into his letter. It was just one of those moments that would not be forgotten.
   Well, the day ended, and all the kids raced out to begin their two week vacations. I gave my last goodbye hug and turned around to find the boy standing at my desk, trying to use my scissors and string with a bit of frustration. I came up and asked him why he was still here? He handed me his letter, and explained that he was trying to tie the string through the hole he'd made, so that he could hang it on his Christmas tree at home.
We finished it together, and he gave me a big hug, saying, "Thank you Mrs. LaGravinese. Merry Christmas."
Out the door he went, letter in hand.

Today I finally went through all my Christmas cards from students. Some of them came with baked goods, nice candles, or even gift cards. After appreciating their notes, I put them all away... except for one, from the little boy who sits up front. His homemade card read,

"Merry Christmas Mrs. LaGravinese.  Enjoy the flowers and chocolate. I picked them out for you because I know they are your favorite. You will never be forgotten."

   I am really glad to know the letter from his dad is hanging on their tree this season, because that little boy is such a gift. The kind that's really tough to open, with a lot of tape and boxes inside of boxes, to the point that you get kind of frustrated trying to open it-- it makes you wonder, man, why would someone wrap this gift up SO tightly?! It's easy to see those issues wrapping up a child, isn't it? But let's face it, that's us too!
   We're wrapped up tightly with protective walls, hurts, bitterness, anger, fear... you name it, we are a tied up people. But, there is a letter written to us. For we have a God who intends to unwrap all those annoying ribbons and gobs of tape. He has written us his letter of love, and if we will read it, we might begin to grin ourselves, with some tears escaping here and there. For we are loved.

You. are. dearly. loved.

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year. 

Let 2012 be one of love, loving the author of mankind--God almighty. Loving yourself, for your one-of-a-kind personality, pain-in-the-butt ways and all. And loving others, the way you desire to be loved yourself.

Romans 5: 6-8
⁶ You see, at just the right time, when we were still powerless, Christ died for the ungodly. ⁷ Very rarely will anyone die for a righteous person, though for a good person someone might possibly dare to die. ⁸ But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us.

Man, we are really, truly loved. 

Gathering My Sanities Back.

The beginning of the year is always the hardest...most trying. The kids that I labored over day and night, building character and wisdom and confidence into their young little souls...well, now they belong to a new teacher. I get a quick hug in the hallways or a holler from across the schoolyard, and that makes me smile. I'm proud of them, I'm happy to see them being successful in middle school, I'm---

Brought back to reality. My darlings are gone, and standing before me is a fresh, new, wild class of 33 undeveloped young children who only want to cause me pain and suffering. Haha, teasing. That is a hyperbole, as I would tell them. They do not ONLY want to cause me pain and suffering, but in some moments, they do cause me to question my sanity. This group of kiddos feels more energetic, less responsible, and WILD... little did I know I was foreshadowing my first days of school when I decorated my welcome back board with animal cut-outs and the phrase, "Welcome to the Wild World of 5th Grade!" They are like uncaged animals set loose from the zoo! Oops, this isn't meant to be a rant. But teachers, you know you can sympathize with me. The beginning of the year... sigh. 

So, here are some August quotes from my new babies:

 QUOTE 1: During our reading lesson on how to categorize:

Me: (excited about my interactive smartboard activity): 

 "Today we are learning a reading skill called categorizing! I bet you are great at it! Take a look at these fruits & vegetables! For example, look at this pepper, would you categorize it as a fruit or veggie? Come on up and move it to the category you feel is best suited based on its characteristics."

Johnny: 

Raises his hand immediately.

Me: (thinking, yes! Johnny is normally sitting with his head down, sporting an 'I hate school' face of misery. I have a moment of pride that perhaps the worst is over. This is great progress!):  

"Yes, Johnny! What do you think?" 

Johnny: 

"Are you BLIND? Hello??? That's called a pea pod. Not a pepper." 

QUOTE 2: During a math lesson on multiplying two-digit numbers by two-digits: 

Me:

"Just line up your numbers on the right side. Now, let's multiply! Step one--" (I happen to turn from the board just at the right moment to witness--)

George:

"Shuffle,shuffle, shuffle... SLAM!" I see a blur of George jump from his seat, and book it out the classroom door.

Me: (Chasing student out the door) 

"GEORGE wait! Where are you going????"

George: (Holding his stomach in an attempt to appear ill.)

"When you teach math, I feel really, really sick."

*Please note George's theatrical escapee abilities are multifaceted based on the day's needs, and have included:

"When you teach math, I have to go pee really, really bad." 

"When you teach math, I really, really need to read my library book."

"When you teach math, I feel really, really sleepy."

"When you teach math, I really, really need to go to the nurse and get a cough drop, cough, cough, ehhh ehh ehh. Owwww, my throat. Seeeee?"  

[Check here for daily updates on excuses you can use to run out of any room at any time.]

__________________

QUOTE 3:

We have been on "heat advisory" here in AZ for a week straight. Students have no recess. Teachers have no sanity, nor a chance to eat, go to the bathroom, or breathe without 33 students tagging along. We drop the students off to lunch, and then race back to our rooms to sit for 5 minutes, until we hear the pitter patter-- haha! Wrong words-- thunderous stampeding of students racing to get back into class from the cafeteria to have "recess" in the classroom. So, that brings me to quote #3:

Students' echoes come bouncing down the halls: 

"YEAHHHH! INSIDE RECESSSSSS!"

Me: (Cringe)

 I quickly take my first (and knowingly last) bite of lunch. 

Students pop up at the door:

"HI MRS. LLLLLLLLLLLLLL! CAN WE COME IN?!?!?!"

Me (teasingly):

"Please give me one minute to gather my sanity back."

Emily (seriously):

"Oh of course Mrs. L."

Emily shoves the sweat stained, panting students out of the doorway like a pro and closes the door gently, seemingly sweeping all of the chaos out with her. Through the door's window I watch one extra tenacious boy squirm his way back, press his face to the glass, and stick his tongue out at me while making pig faces obnoxiously. I stare him down, chewing my single bite slowly and deliberately. Suddenly, to my private amusement, I see sweet Emily appear in the window just long enough to pummel the boy, clearly knocking him from the door, and then I hear her whisper authoritatively to the class:

"Shh. Shh. Mrs. L needs one minute to gather her sanities back. Line up quietly and make her proud." 

Smiling, I sit there for a minute, admiring the fact that I can sit in the silence of my room and just breathe for a moment, when a well meaning teacher walks by, and I hear:

"Students get out of the hallway! Where is your teacher? Why aren't you in class?"

Students:

"Oh, we can't go in there. Mrs. L is gathering her sanities back."

__________________

James Howell says, "We learn by teaching." 

I am learning not to take my teaching ambitions so seriously all the time. In those exhaustive moments when all seems lost, let a little smile spread across your face, and leave the troubles in the hallway. Take a moment to gather your sanities back.

I can do anything good!

Summer. Break. Rocks. 

"I can do anything good!" 

No funny stories today. But here is something to bring you a SMILE!

Now, my whole house is great!

I can do anything good! 

I like my school!

I like anything!

I like my dad!

I like my cousins!

I like my aunts!

I like my Allisons!

I like my moms! 

I like my sisters!

I like my dads!

I like my hair!

I like my haircuts!

I like my pajamas!

I like my stuff!

I like my rooms!

I, like, my, whole, house!

My whole house is great!

I can do anything good!

Yeah, yeah, yeah!

I can do anything good!

Better than anyone,

Better than anyone!

Toss out the net, one more time!

It's May 24th, which means I have 1.5 days left with my students. A sigh of relief? Yes. A bit of sadness. Completely. A bit of why should I try to make them be quiet, line up straight, and take notes when I have tried for so long and some of them STILLLLL don't listen? Mmhmmm.

Every teacher faces the moment (sometimes daily!) when they ask themselves, will anything really change with this kid? I have poured my heart and soul into this child and he STILL curses in my face. I have designed lesson plans that rival a trip to Disneyland, and she STILL yawns and lays her head down! I have tutored him every morning for a year now, and he STILL fails his math test.

Sigh. When it is 1.5 days away from summer, many of us wonder, do our final days with this kid really matter? Will the ones that never changed really benefit from me slaving away for a mere 36 more hours?

I was reading the Bible tonight, and read Luke 5: 1-11. The fishermen have been casting their nets out ALL night long, with no luck. No fish, not a single little minnow to show for their sweat and tears. They haven't slept, nor probably eaten, and definitely have not rested. It is now morning, and they are ready to just get out of this dismal workplace. They're washing the stinky nets, which is probably the worst part of the day, and they are probably grumbling quite a bit. All of a sudden, a curious fellow named Jesus comes on the scene. One of the fishermen, Simon, is there, exhausted and just ready to leave the boat a mess and head home. (Sound familiar, teachers?)

Jesus steps onto Simon's boat uninvited and says, wait a minute. Would you please put your boat back out in the water? I need to teach this crowd, and they are too close to me here. I imagine Simon rolled his eyes and felt like crying, but he did so. After teaching the crowd for awhile, Jesus looks at Simon and graciously thanks him. He gives him a hug, and encourages him to go home and rest. No-- wait-- he doesn't say that at all! Instead, he calmly insists that Simon get back to work and throw out his nets another time.

Simon is probably thinking, ARE YOU KIDDING ME? First, I let you use my boat after a never-ending day and night of work, and now you want me to continue fishing after I am pretty darn certain nothing is going to change. Let me go homeeee. Out loud, Simon politely says, "Master, we've worked hard all night and haven't caught anything." Then he probably lets out a dramatic sigh, and he adds (in what I imagine to be a barely audible mumble), "But, because you say so, I will let down the nets."

Lo and behold, in the final moment, with the help of Jesus, the nets come back so full that Simon has to have his partner's boat come up and take 1/2 the fish, and both boats begin to sink! We are talking about A BIG CHANGE. A complete turnaround of what the fishermen had seen all night long, despite their hardest efforts.

So, what is God telling us here? Teachers, rally your troops one last time, and throw out your net. With the help of Jesus, GREAT things happen in the most unlikely of times.

Can you STILL not find a job after going to one thousand, three hundred, and ninety-nine interviews? Is your husband or wife STILL not listening after all the times you've explained to them what you need? Parents, is your child STILL not cleaning up his room after all the times you have given the responsibility speech?  Is your coworker STILL being a pain in the ... after all the times you have kindly put up with it?

There is hope in Christ in the most unlikely of situations. But there is something God is saying here that I think we really must note before saying, "Ok, [positive thinking. Yes, something good will happen to me. I just have to keep throwing out my net." Simon probably thought this plenty of times. He threw out his net all night long and nothing happened. It wasn't until Jesus came onto the scene... and notice the choices Simon had before anything good happened:

Christ asked Simon if he would let him stay on his boat, and Simon said yes despite exhaustion and frustration. Christ gave Simon the choice to throw out his nets, and he chose to listen to this guy. Life is hard. Really tiring and hard and in many situations, seemingly hopeless. But with Christ, there is hope, fulfillment, and radically unexpected GOODNESS.  Listen to where you feel Him talking to you, and say yes.

So, I'm off to finish up a gift for my students. I'm going to throw out my net one more time for these kiddos, and I fully expect a harvest.

That's us, dude!

The kids and I have begun what's called Socratic Seminars. We sit in a big circle and discuss interesting articles, fables, morals, etc. The point isn't to come to a right answer, but to recognize that, as Socrates says, "The only true wisdom consists of knowing that you know nothing." I love the movie Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure. Bill and Ted look at each other incredulously after reading this quote, and reply, "That's us, dude!"

The kids and I are realizing how much we grow through these seminars, which involve 90% listening and 10% talking. We begin by reading a passage of text and formulating our thoughts privately. We quietly jot down our individual questions and opinions. Once everyone feels they have something substantial to offer the discussion, we begin the seminar. There's no hand-raising or arguing, the kids and I just listen as one person poses a question and we respond as we feel led. Of course, everyone feels led, because we all wrote down our thoughts before the seminar began! But, only one person can speak at a time, and therefore no one has enough time to share everything they thought; they are forced to listen. This frustrates them, annoys them, and genuinely makes them want to shout out, "listen to me!" But, by the end of the seminar, we all stand there amazed by how much we learned from each other! I , "the teacher", come away astounded by how my eyes were opened to new ways of seeing the text just from listening to the kids.

The best was when one of my fifth graders stayed after school to share with me. This student is quite gifted and spends 1/2 the day in middle school because he is doing math two years ahead, and writing a year ahead.. When he is in our class in the afternoon, he tends to have a lot of the answers and isn't shy about speaking up. So, just after the bell rang and our seminar ended, he approached me in a quieter manner than usual.

"Mrs. LaGravinese, Socrates was right... In the beginning of the seminar I realized I was talking a lot, so I made myself stop and listen. About halfway through I realized that some of the quietest people in our class are really smart! And some of the kids who are in trouble a lot, had really good ideas. I learned so much from them, [laughs sheepishly] all because I stopped talking."

***

Listening to others is powerful, and opens your mind to possibilities you would never come to on your own. To listen, though, you must stop talking. You must stop thinking about yourself.
To truly listen, you have to believe that what the other person has to say is valuable.
Don't listen with the sole intent of offering solutions, or
Relating your own life to theirs.
The most unlikely and unseemly people have much to offer you, if only that through really listening to them, you have learned to love others as you do yourself.

How much of your day involves this kind of listening to others, with an open heart and an eager mind? This kind of listening is powerful in our relationships, like pouring some Miracle Grow into our lives. We will blossom with friends, family, God, and in understanding ourselves. If you think you're doing someone else a favor by "listening" to them, then you are probably not listening at all.

I think this kind of listening can be uncomfortable, frightening, and even painful as it both takes away your control and opens you to the possibility of change. You are laying down your opinions, your answers, your experiences, and all of your great wisdom. All of this with the intent to genuinely value and find worth in another.What a challenge!

Mark 12:28-31

Footprints in the Sand

You may have seen the popular poem, Footprints in the Sand? The poet describes a dream she had of walking with the Lord across a beach. As different parts of her life pass by, she notices that in each scene she can see their footprints in the sand. At times the dreamer describes seeing two sets of footprints walking together in the sand. Yet at other times there is only one set, and she realizes that it's during the hardest times of her life that the other pair of footprints disappear. She is bothered by the abandonment of the Lord in her most difficult times, and she asks, Lord, though you promised to always be there with me, why weren't you there when I needed you most? The Lord replies to her, I was there. I was the one carrying you.

***

In our bible study we are talking about "Walking Across the Room" ... having the confidence to leave your place of comfort and step out for people; taking an interest in other people's lives and taking a risk in getting to know others, and allowing them to get to know you. In the DVD segments of the study, I have been so astounded to hear the stories of people whose lives have been changed by conversations that took place months and even years before.

***

So why these sentimental snippets? Well, today was one of those moments, where I thought there was only one set of footprints.  If you know me well, you probably know that I'm a lover. I love animals, I love hugs, I love people, I love wholesome movies where love triumphs in the end.  I am just that way. I've always been a peace seeking person, and I believe that love is the single most important purpose of my life, as well as the route to peace.

Love, however, has another aspect. Love is fierce. It defends, protects, and perseveres in the face of evil. Love causes conflict. Love is a fight. You've seen it in the movies, right? Well, that side of love surfaces in me every now and then too. I am passionate about children. This isn't some cliche saying or a get up on my soap-box moment, it just is. I will fight you to the death over a child's safety, wellbeing, and future. So today, in a conference room meeting for a former student of mine, I felt something was going wrong. I felt like this boy needed a champion to step into the ring and fight, and, I jumped in! My heart was beating fast, and I felt my face getting flushed. My voice shook and my eyes had.. some moisture. After I spoke up,  I got a response all right!

...  .... ... 

The Silent Treatment. 

It would have been a perfect moment for the crickets to begin chirping and frogs to croak.

Soon after, the meeting ended awkwardly. I felt like, oh my goodness, what did I just do? Was I rude to my coworkers, and to these school officials I barely know? This is so unlike me! Yet, I didn't regret it. I gave the mother a hug, and went my way. I wished the Lord had shown up and said, "Thus sayeth the Lord. Give this child what he needs!" But, instead, I felt a bit wimpy with the silent reaction to my boxing ring fight.

It was late in the afternoon by this point, and the school was pretty empty, so I went to my room to take care of a few things before leaving. Suddenly one of the women who had been in the meeting came in. She said, "Rachel, we (several of the faculty in the meeting) were talking about what happened. Thank you. Thank you so much for what you said. You were in that meeting for a special reason." We talked a bit more and she left. She confirmed the surge of crazy love I had felt earlier in the conference room! Maybe my walk across the room for this student was heard.

I got home and after dinner, I thought, you know, I want to email that student's mother. She has been through the wringer since I've known her. Homeless, raising her children alone, searching for work, attending all her son's meetings, taking him to the hospital for diagnoses, listening to negative word after word about her child, etc. etc. etc. It was part of the reason I felt so much compassion for her in that meeting. 

I logged in to my school account and saw one new email, from her. I began to cry and praise God as I read it.

Hello,

   I just wanted to say thank you again. Between you and I, the other people in that room did not seem to care at all about what's been going on. I receive negative email after negative email, and it is hard to think that he might have to go through this all over again. But I don't want him to be pushed along, falling through the cracks, and not receive an education. It's very hard to do all of this by myself without his father helping me, but I will do anything for my child, he is the one that counts! THANKS AGAIN FOR BEING IN ----'s CORNER:) you are truly a great gift from God!!*

I thought I was fighting alone in that room, but little did I know, the Lord was carrying me. Just like the poet asked in the poem, "But Lord, you said that if I followed you, you would always be there?" He was there all right, and he was speaking in the silence of that room. As far as being a great gift from God, that mother has blessed me more than I ever could her.

God is always there, whether you and I can see it at the time, and whether we are ready to acknowledge it. I believe more than ever, that love is worth the fight. Love your spouse, love your coworkers, love your family, your children, and walk across the room to love strangers. God is in the midst changing lives, today, tomorrow, or years down the road.

Above all things have intense and unfailing love for one another, for love covers a multitude of sins. 

1Peter 4:8

*paraphrased for privacy

Parents, Teachers, & Conferences! Oh My!

 This week was parent-teacher conference week. Parents working long hours dread it. Teachers working long hours dread longer hours. Students who have parents that will soon be talking to teachers dread it. It really isn't that merry of an occasion.With that said, I love my kids. So, despite the extended hours and difficult conversations ahead, I look forward... no, that may not be the right choice of words... I appreciate the opportunity  to communicate face to face with the parents of the kids I have come to love so much!

Conference #86 billion and one...ok, not really, but it IS 6PM 

and I have been conferencing in 15-30 minute incremements since 1PM, and planning, teaching, cleaning, etc.etc. since 7:15 in the morning. 

The mom comes in and gives me a hug! She says I am beautiful! She wants to see a picture of me with my husband, and proceeds to tell me that we will have beautiful babies. This is not what I expect. God is good to me!

***

At the parent conference I had with this mom in the beginning of the school year, Mom came through the door like a whirlwind. She talked about her make-up, the dinner she had on the stove at home, the laundry that needed to be done... and I finally had to interrupt to say that I would make this quick, but it was important and I was glad she could be here. I showed her the F her daughter had in math. I told her the truth, that her daughter was at least a grade level behind, and more importantly, her daughter didn't seem to believe in herself. She gave up easily. She shrugged off her work, and didn't seemed fazed by her dwindling grades. I asked mom to bring her daughter to school an hour early twice a week, so I could work with her.

After the F conversation, I told mom that her daughter was something special and that she had a beautiful future ahead of her, and mom responded in surprise, "My daughter? I guess she can be sweet... she sure is a handful."  Mom then looked at me, at the F, and said, "I have my period, and cramps are killing me. Can I take off now?" That took me by surprise. I just managed to say, "Please bring her early every Tuesday and Friday for tutori--!" Mom was out the door. HOWEVER, every Tuesday and Friday from that day forward her daughter was at my door an hour before school, ready for tutoring.

***

So back to our current conference, after I showed mom the B! Yes B! her daughter was earning in math, and I spoke about her daughter's future and what a special little lady she is and how joyful she has become... mom looks me in the eye and says thank you. She tells me that there are many teachers that her five children have had over the years; teachers who are tired, worn out, and barely making it themselves. She says she is the last person to complain, because she can barely make it some days with her own five children at home. She cannot imagine a classroom of 30. But, then she adds, a parent knows when a teacher is there for her child. She says, you have a gift from God Mrs. LaGravinese and you have changed my daughter's life. You have made her fall back in love with learning, and for that I thank you so much.

I try to explain that Mom is the one who has made her daughter get up early in the morning, and brought her to tutoring with me every week. I tried to thank her for this--but she stopped me.

No, she says. Unfortunately, with five children to care for, a house to clean, and a job to get to, I haven't been the one to get her tutoring. It's my daughter. She sets her alarm early enough to get up and make breakfast, to shower and get ready, and then she begs me to get out of bed and drive her to tutoring. She never forgets, Mrs. LaGravinese. I can't believe it. She wouldn't miss it for the world. She respects you. Thank you so much.

Conference #86 billion and 2.... slight exaggeration, but it IS 6:30PM   

These parents I know well. We email frequently. We have met with the school counselor several times, and the principal knows their son by name. He is as unique as they come, and hand crafted by God for something special... but I'm pretty certain it's not a classroom desk, LOL. He alone I could blog about for a year straight. He is HILARIOUS. And SMART, really super out-of-the-box smart. And, incapable of finding a pencil, or putting papers in a folder, or following instructions that do not agree with his prerogative. If he is asked to, I don't know, put his name on his paper, there is a 50-50 chance he might have a nervous breakdown and literally dump his desk onto the floor in a moment of monstrous frustration. He might plop into the middle of the disaster he has just strewn across the carpet and begin to toss crinkled papers into the air. Meanwhile he will likely shout repeatedly, "Where's my pencil? My pencil? WhereismypencilWhereismypencilWhereismypencilWhereismypencil????"

***

This is the same kid that on the first day of school I was going through the expectations of the classroom, when I said, "It is wise to do your homework in a quiet area. Guys, that means NOT in front of the TV!" The kids giggle, but this particular student waves his hand in the air like he has something very urgent to share, so I say, "Yes?" not knowing who I am talking to. Yet.

He responds, "But, WHY can't we do homework in front of the TV?" 

I think to myself, did he not just hear me? So I repeat, "You need to work in a quiet area so that you are able to fully focus. The tv is a distraction." 

Instead of nodding, he raises his hand again, waving it even more urgently. 

"Yesss?"

"But what if the tv isn't ON?"     

   ...  You've got me there. I break into laughter, and our teacher-student relationship begins.

 ***

The conference went by smoothly; we brainstormed ways to minimize disrupting his classmates, and still encourage his out-of-the-box way of learning and thinking. We find out he has an anxiety disorder, and that is why he struggles. We shake hands, and they are off.

Conference #86 billion and 3.... not much of an exaggeration by now. It IS officially LATE. 

As my next conference begins, and the mother begins to cry because her father is sick with cancer in the hospital, I hug her and pray for her, and I think, this is my life's work right now. This verse today says it all, and I thank God wholeheartedly for the opportunity I have to glory in Him through teaching, and to bring Him glory in the workplace. I love my God, and I know that one day I will stand in heaven with Jesus, and see the neat things He has done through me.

Every child is worth it.

Colossians 3:23-24
23 Whatever you do, work heartily, as for the Lord and not for men, 24 knowing that from the Lord you will receive the inheritance as your reward. You are serving the Lord Christ.

Ejaculated is a fancy word

  I was recently talking with a friend who is teaching in Tajikistan. She needed a good laugh, like every teacher, and every human being... especially when times are tough and you feel alone. She also needed sanity. I wasn't sure if I had enough of the latter to send her, but the least I could do is share one of my latest... moments.

  So, here's how it went.

  I have some of the sweetest and innocent little girls this year. A few weeks ago, one of them approached me during silent reading time with an inquisitive and proud look on her cute, freckled face. I beckoned her over, and she pointed to her book questioningly. "Look Mrs. L! I found a fancy word for said!" (I am always telling them to keep an eye out for fancy words that authors use, that they can use in their own writer's workshop books.) As I glanced down, Jenny pronounced it for me, "e..jac..ejaculated?" 

  Sure enough. That was the word. Don't worry! It was nothing sexual. Ejaculated was being used in the context of "said" or "replied". What were YOU thinking? Well, I was thinking the same thing. Who uses the word ejaculated in a children's book as a good word for said? I was so surprised in the moment that I still can't recall the sentence; you can imagine though, it went something like, "Run, quickly," ejaculated Mr. so and so. Jenny stood, blinking, waiting to know the meaning. "It means, he shot the words out quickly.Way to go, Jenny!" I responded honestly. What more could I do? She beamed, like she had hit the royal jackpot in word choice. "Wow. Ejaculated...Thanks!" she quipped, and trotted back to her pillow to read more.

  The moment passed, and I briefly considered the possible consequences, but soon I began math and it was a thing of the past. Over the next week my little reader had written her latest book in writer's workshop. Another week, and she had edited and published her book. It was time for author's chair. Jenny was the only student to publish that day, and headed up to the grand author's chair. The rest of the students crowded round her on the mat. I was busy getting my writing notebook to jot notes as she began to present her book. I was enjoying the story, and so were the students. In fact, the room was silent, other than the high-pitched, enthusiastic fifth grade voice reading aloud.

  

  Suddenly, I heard the word. She had used it in her book!? I'm usually a really calm person. But, I had a minor panic attack. Heat rose to my cheeks, and I felt my heart beating against my chest. Boys, boys, boys... All I could think in that moment, was nooooo. It was like slow-motion, eeejacuuuulatttted. It had been said. Several of the boys would be quick to pounce on this. I expected full on nudges, laughs, coughs (insinuating something other than a sore throat); whispers of conspiracy, girls looking around in surprise, wide eyes, wide eyes looking at me, wondering how I would handle this word. Innocent eyes wondering what was going on. And above all, poor Jenny up front reading her word loud and proud. Behold, class, this is my fancy word for said! I had to take control before the tornado hit. I put on my stern face and surveyed the audience, ready to catch the eyes of any mischievous boys before they could stir the pot.

  But you know what? There was nothing. Not a giggle. Not a smirk. Maybe a few suspicious eyebrows went up, but that was it! Amazing. I tried to go back to regular breathing, as Jenny continued, oblivious to my mini meltdown.

  And like that, it was over. PHEW. Parent phone calls and principal meetings averted. Praise God! I could only have imagined. "Hi Mrs. L. This is Jenny's mother. Today in class... ejaculated? Why ever would you teach my little girl such a word?" Word, word, word. My heart had just begun to slow again, and compliments began. (After every author's chair, students raise their hands with compliments for the author. The author picks two compliments, and then picks two more students to ask questions. The students have been taught to give quality compliments, like "I enjoyed your simile when you said... or, you used great voice through your character when he said...etc. So as the author reads their book, students are actively listening for writing to compliment afterward. Once two compliments have been given, the author can choose two more people to ask questions.)

  I scribbled a few more notes in my notebook as the first compliment began. It was Melissa, the petite, blonde sitting cross-legged near the front. She had been waving her hand excitedly and glancing back and forth happily from me to Jenny, me to Jenny. She must of had a good one.

  She's a sweetie pie, and tries really hard; of all the students though, she is far below grade level in reading and writing. Melissa has a hard time formulating her thoughts, and remembering ideas. This makes complimenting the author's chair particularly difficult-- she struggles to remember specifics from the story. So, when she was picked by the student to give her compliment, it was quite the event. Clear as day, she sat right up and announced, "I LOVED your word choice! E...jaculated!" Then she turned toward me, nodding and smiling so big, as if to say, did you hear that Mrs. L?? Did you see that I remembered the really good word choice!?

  Oh man.

  Really??? Of all the words Jenny used in her book, words like plethora, anticipate, shuffled... little ol' Melissa was able to recall ejaculated? And we all know Melissa had no intention of being anything but helpful and kind in her compliment. I had to smile back at her, and give the approving nod. Well done, Melissa. Well done, here we go. Let's rumble.

  If the rest of the class hadn't caught it on the first go round, they sure as day couldn't have missed this compliment, announced boldly for all the world to hear! I braced myself for the worst, and fully expected the principal to walk in to observe my cute author's chair activity. Then I fully expected the principal to ask me why, why Mrs. L, are you teaching our students to use the word ejaculated for said. What standard is that meeting? Would parents really approve of that? Aren't there other words for said that would be more... appropriate, perhaps?

  Despite the pain I was personally experiencing, my students said and did nothing. No reaction whatsoever. What?! Who are these kids and since when do they turn down a moment like this??? This is a miracle, is all I could think. While I continued to dialogue in my head, the next student complimented about sentence fluency or something like that, and that was it. It was time for questions. Compliments were over, and by an act of grace, I had escaped injury free. 

 Students waved their hands for questions. Jenny picked someone, and I closed my writing notebook with relief. Then I heard a snide voice (and to this day I don't know who asked it), "So, Jenny.. what DOES ejaculated mean???"

 Jenny smiled sweetly, and gave me a thumbs up. Thanks Mrs. L. You are the greatest Mrs. L. Let me teach the class all about it.

  "Well," Jenny answered in her all knowing voice, looking at each student with importance, "Ejaculated means to shoot out quickly!!!"

Silence.

"Right, Mrs. L???" All eyes on me.

I teach. I laugh. I have minor panic attacks. Welcome to my world... I hope it brings you laughter too.