End of Another School Year

It's the end of another year. Another year, another group of students, another year of attempting to inspire readers and writers. I love summer. I year for summer. And yet, the end of the year fills me with sadness as I prepare to say goodbye to my fabulous students.

We've been beyond busy over the last two weeks. I tried to take as many pictures as I could, just so we could recap it on Tuesday and celebrate. If you are interested in seeing what we've been up to, watch the video below. I'll be sharing it with my students Tuesday morning on our last day of fifth grade together. 

Have a great day. 

Celebrate This Week - Celebrating Endings

I love Ruth’s reminders to celebrate each week on her blog (HERE). 

Tuesday will wrap-up my fifteenth year teaching in Monticello. Saying good-bye never gets easier. Never. Each year I look at that beautiful sea of faces staring up at me – most excited to begin their summer, some a bit apprehensive about leaving what is known – and I get choked up. Five years ago that sea of faces expanded. No longer was I self-contained and sharing my year with 25 or so students, but my circle expanded to three of the five fifth grade classrooms and 75+ children each year.

It is hard to say goodbye.

Friday was our last day switching for subjects for the year. Monday will see my students helping to close up our room, pack away their supplies, and a chance to learn from a speaker. Tuesday we will have our “field day” will all sorts of events for the kids to play on. So Friday was it.

I began the class the way I always do on our last day, reflecting on our reading for the year, taking photos with each child sharing how many books they read during our time together. The room was filled with laughter and chatter. Kids shared titles, exclaimed over how much they had read. We had a long discussion before beginning regarding these “numbers” – how there was no competition. 12 books were celebrated as much as 200. The students were fascinated on the total amount the entire classroom read and cannot wait to find out how much our three rooms read once my class does this activity on Monday. And with the last photo taken, it was time to read.

I read aloud every single day to my students. Often it is a picture book. Occasionally it is a chapter book. With our condensed class time, those books are often saved for the homerooms. Sometimes it is an article or the back of the book for a book talk. Today would be our last read aloud time together.

The students moved into the position they knew well after our time together. Circled up at the carpet, they smiled. I told them it would be a new book; I have never read it to a classroom before. When I shared the title, author, and illustrator, murmurs of recognition flooded the room. They knew this pair’s work with previous picture books we have shared. And then, I read.

As I read, my brain kept jumping ahead. I was thinking things like:

I’ve totally got this. In control, no problem.

I wonder if they understood that metaphor?

Love this one, so powerful.

Oh no, sadness creeping into my heart, no. Still will see them before Tuesday. I’ve got this.

And then, all too soon, I reached the last two pages. The impact of the book and the finality of this time hit me like a ton of bricks. I knew the cry was coming. A sob escaped my lips before I could stop it. I looked up at their faces and saw watery eyes staring back.

Not helping.

I finished and put the book on my lap. Deep breath.

I stood and started to talk. I tried to tell them how much it meant to be their teacher. How I will love them forever and will always be here if they need me. Why I fought so hard to make reading and writing a part of their life.

I don’t know if they heard me. Tears were streaming and I couldn’t hold them back.

I finally surrendered to it and told them they were welcome to read for the last few minutes, that I needed to have a moment. I turned to get a tissue and was surrounded with arms. Student after student came to give me a hug. Words were whispered. I heard more than once, “I don’t want to go.”

Teaching is so powerful; sometimes we forget the impact we can make. In the day-to-day part of our job, we are juggling so many balls; we’re just trying to keep them from falling. Friday morning I got that awesome reminder that what we do matters. It really does.  There is nowhere I would rather be.

For the record, I made it through the second class with minimal tears. I was prepared.

I make no promises on reading this book to my homeroom on our last day. I think I should probably stock up on the tissues now.

And, should you want to have your own emotional meltdown, go check out the book that caused the ugly cry. You will be glad you did. 

Celebrate This Week - Endings

I’m joining up with Ruth Ayres for her weekly link-up, Celebrate This Week. Check out all of the posts linked up at her blog HERE. Thanks for starting this, Ruth!

Today ends a week I look forward to and dread all at the same time.

I love summer. I love freedom, sleeping in, reading all day, spending time with my boys, and time to recharge. As much as I abhor swimming suits, I love going to the pool. I enjoy swimming laps, reading poolside, and seeing former students. Summer gives me time to vacation with family, travel to conferences, and read and write with abandon.

I also love teaching. I love my students – getting to know their personalities, watching them get excited over a book, and helping them find small successes in reading, writing, and life. And as much as I know we need a break – and we really do – I dread the end of the year.

By May I always feel like we’ve formed a family – for good and for bad. We know each other well. We support each other and push each other to succeed. By this time of year we also are like a family of ten that has been trapped in a small log cabin for such a long, long winter. We’re ready to move, to grow outside of that cabin, to fly. It is time to move on, yet part of me is never ready to let go.

Friday was a day of endings. Last reading classes. Last time to teach these big fifth graders I’ve come to love. Last time to talk with them about books and life – at least in the classroom. In my first class of the day, I knew I was in trouble. When I brought us to a close at the end and told them I loved them and was honored to teach them for this year, one girl began to sob. The chain reaction began. No matter how much I tried to say that we live in a small town, that I’d see them at the pool this weekend, that my son is in their class and I’d always be around, the tears flowed. A line formed and I hugged, and hugged, and hugged. They left, and I was a mess. Class two entered and did better. But when they left, and after another line of hugs, I found letters they had left me. Beautiful letters. Letters that ended with sentences like, “So, I love you (not in an awkward way.)” That might be the perfect fifth grade sentence. My own tears returned. My class came in. I informed them there would be no more tears. I’m still with them until Tuesday. And we celebrated.

After school – and after a retirement party for some amazing teachers – I headed to the pool. It was exactly what I needed. While sitting in a chair poolside for two hours I talked to former students who are in sixth grade all the way through seniors in high school. They eased my sadness and reminded me that I’m truly blessed to live in a town where goodbye is not forever.

So, today I celebrate my students. I celebrate their reading this year. I love this activity below. We do a lot of talking about how this is not a competition, except against yourself. I want them to become readers. Some came to me that way; many became readers over our year. I don’t really care what their "number" is, and truly, they don’t either. I care that they know who they are – what they like, what they don’t, and can describe that. I care that they talk to their friends about books. I care that they make plans for what they're reading next. I care that they want to read over this long summer. These faces are what make my job worth it, and I will miss them more than I can say. Enjoy our video. 

A Letter to My Class of 2013

Dear Class,

I should start with an apology. There is no way I will be reading this to you. As you are already too well aware, the end of the year tends to reduce me to tears. So you’ll have to settle for a letter from me.

I’m so proud of you all! You have grown in ways I could not even have imagined. Yes, you are better readers and writers, and for that I’m grateful. But you are also better friends, more responsible students, and kinder people.

Remember this year.

My goal as your teacher is to teach –

Readers

Writers

Thinkers

Individuals

I want to help you realize

How amazing you are.

The potential within you.

Remember Auggie,

And to always Choose Kind.

Remember Ivan,

And when it is important to fight for what you believe.

Remember Percy,

And the importance in believing in yourself.

Remember Gae Polisner

Our first “drafts” aren’t always the best.

It is with work and effort that they become great.

This holds true in writing as well as in life.

Remember Ame Dyckman

Humor

Vibrance

And, in the words of Maurice Sendak,

Live your life, Live your life, Live your life.

Remember Marianne Malone

Seeds are planted over time

What grows does not always appear until later.

Remember, please remember, Jarrett Krosoczka.

Our circumstance do not define us.

Or what we can become.

You are meant to be something great.

I feel it in my bones.

I told you the first day of class.

I love you from the moment

You appeared on that class list.

Today is not a good-bye,

Even though it seems it.

I will be your teacher now

Until forever.

Make me proud

Make yourself proud.
Remember What You Know First.

You will carry this year with you.

Now, have a great summer and READ!

With Love,

Mrs. S

Parenting Lessons from My Students

In some ways I think being a teacher has prepared me to be a parent. There are many ways I can think that this is true, but at the core - I know my purpose. If I do my job right, on any given year, I am raising these kids so that they do not need me. My goal is independence and ultimately, I know they will leave me.

Some years this goes well and I am not extremely emotional. Some years I’m exhausted, barely crawling that last day to the finish line. That was true for me last year. My students were wonderful – they made me laugh, challenged me, grew beyond what I thought possible. That being said, I was drained. I was also in my last year of grad school – three classes that fall, two that spring – and I’m confidant that had a lot to do with it. I was ready for summer.

This year I’m not, but I am. These kids are ready, I can feel it. Visiting the middle school the other day it hit me, they are ready to move on from me, even if I am struggling with it. Academically, they are prepared. I know they can handle the workload. Socially, they are more mature than many classes I have taught. They are kind and work well together. I know this is a group that will accomplish great things. And while I’m sure there are a few that are nervous about moving on, the majority are ready to embrace this challenge.  

And so, I need to let go. Let them move on and become what they are meant to be. I realize I will see them again, but I also know it is not the same. You can’t go back, and truly, you shouldn’t. Just as I know one day, not too far from now, I will have to let Luke, and then Liam go. And they will visit, come home for summers, spend weekends here. It isn’t the same as living in a home together, just as running into my students at the pool is not the same as being within those walls of the classroom together. And yet, it is as it should be. They are ready, and I am closer to being ready everyday. They are preparing me to let go of my own children one day, to them grow on without me. My students are teaching me and for that, and so much else, I am grateful.  

How Much Did We Read?

For the last three years I have asked my students to pick a goal as to the number of books they can read for the school year. I usually suggest they at least start at forty – a number that stuck in my head after reading Donalyn Miller’s The Book Whisperer. Why forty? For many of the same reasons Donalyn suggests it to her students. They do not think they can do it, and I want to show them that they can.

On our last day of reading class last week we took a final look at our reading lists and they created a small poster for how many books they actually read this year. As we created them we reflected back on the year. Every child read a ton. Every child read more than they had last year. And, most importantly, every single one felt like they had grown as a reader.

I should note, I’m pretty laid back about the amount of books they read. If they do not reach forty, I’m fine with that. One child was in the twenties. Every book he read was over five hundred pages. We celebrate that. We also do not compare between kids. The child who read twenty-two books is a reader to be celebrated, just as the child who read over one hundred is.

When considering what they’ve read, I also look at genres. While we do track genres of the books they’ve read – and I suggest they try at least one book from all of them – I really just want them to read. If someone is crazy about fantasy and mainly reads that genre, fine with me. The same might be said for graphic novels. I have one student who read over two hundred books. The majority of those are graphic novels. If you were to come into my classroom I could show you his growth this year – it is incredible. I thank God for graphic novels; they have been the best thing to happen to my classroom library.

I’d say much the same about picture books. Some students counted a few of their favorites on their list as books they read. I’m fine with that as well. Those are the kids over a hundred books. They devoured books this year and wanted to record everything they read. One of them counted up how many picture books I had because she was curious and told me she’ll come back next year and count them up again – to see how many I add to my collection. She loves the format of picture books.

Check out the faces below. These are kids who are proud of themselves. Kids who know they are readers. When given access to books, a teacher who reads, time to read in class, and the expectation that they will read all year long – great things can happen.