In September 2012, I notice changes in my teaching strategies, management techniques and tolerances...
I stretched a piece of masking tape from the corner of my teacher desk, to the reading table. I hung a little notice from it that said:
NO ADMITTANCE
I embarrassingly conjured up a lesson-plan to include the word admittance so I could justify the sign I had just hung. In reality, I needed silence; a moment of pure stillness to rejuvenate. That’s a tough thing to find inside a fourth grade classroom!
After my reprieve, given to me by my corner office, I walk up to the front of the room and pick up the stylus to my smart board and get ready for my math lesson...
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...“My teacher wants to
borrow the stop watches,” the visitor requests. I walk away from my
small math group mid sentence to go look for the stopwatches but I’ve forgotten
where our stop watches are. The noise is nearly unbearable, all that
clinking and tinkling and then crack! A polygon hits the floor. My feet are
moving, my mind is thinking, but my eyes are not seeing.
I groan to myself, “I keep losing things. I can’t remember where the stop watches are!” Did I just say that aloud? I keep walking around, not seeing.
I groan to myself, “I keep losing things. I can’t remember where the stop watches are!” Did I just say that aloud? I keep walking around, not seeing.
My star asks me, “What
are you doing Mrs. Conti?” which brings me back. I look at her sweet face
and am grateful. I ask her if she knows what I’m doing, and she says she
thinks I went to go look for the stop watches. She doesn’t know why I’m
here, over at the sink though, she guesses that maybe I'm thirsty. And
she fills up a cup of water for me with the hand not holding the stop watch box
that she promptly delivers to the visitor. I watch her deliver them with pride in my
heart.
Man, these kids are really stepping up to the plate! They are so reliable and take great
initiative in running our class, I think to myself as I head back to my small group of math students.
“Do you think you’d be interested in going to the Quarter
Horse Congress this year?” I asked Barb as we waiting for the buses of students
to unload.
“I’ve never been before, when is the barrel racing going to
be going on? Maybe I could go.” She
answered. “Lori, whose running?” She asked.
BURRRZZZZZZ! The school bell rang and I pressed my index
finger into the soft nub of flesh in front of my ears, trying to block out the
annoying sound.
"Lori, who is running at Congress?" She asked again.
The children’s excited voices came rolling up the hallway like
a ball of snow, getting bigger and bigger with each rotation. The voices are hurting my ears and the vision
of the children is crowding my eyes. I
squint. It hurts like when you step out of your house into the sunny afternoon.
I smile and try to stay alert, watching for any one who may slip with their
slippery shoes, ready to catch them.
Their voices becoming an alarming decibel, I look over at Barb to see if
she is bothered by their loud approach, wondering if I should say something to
quiet them down.
I can see her mouth moving, but don’t understand the words
coming from her. I walk across the hall
avoiding the sixth graders who have already reached us. I unplug my ears and squint at her. Concentrating all my effort on seeing what
she is saying, I watch her mouth the words will
Kaylin be running there?
I look down the hall wondering why she thinks that Kaylin
would be at school today. She’s still in
college and has classes all day long.
Maybe Barb misspoke and called the dark haired girl that is trotting
right up to me and past me into my room Kaylin by mistake. I wave and walk away
following my students into my room.
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