Slice of Life - Building Character

Last night I lay with one of my boys, tears snaking their way down his face. His eyes looked at me, filled with sadness. His spirit, crushed. He had worked hard for something he wanted, something he thought he had, only to find out he didn’t.

It is in these moments that my heart picks up its pace as a parent. These are those moments, those teaching moments, that I don’t want to screw up. The moments I hope I don’t miss or brush off because they are unimportant or insignificant to me. In reality, they are a big deal, especially when you are living them.

I tried. I hope my words helped. I tried to pour love through them. To sympathize, but not too much. To weave together words that showed him that this, this messy and sad time, this is what we live for. This is where character is made and grown. That he will come out stronger as a result. That this, even if he doesn’t like it, is his chosen path. And then I asked, how was he going to choose to walk it.

Life lessons are hard, quite frankly sometimes they just plain stink. Sometimes you can see why something has happened, and sometimes you can’t. And yet, it is what we do during those hard times that matters. This is how we develop into people of character. And if we’re going to have times of struggle, I’m glad he was letting me be with him. To share this sadness. Because another lesson that was there was that we don’t have to walk these roads alone.

As bedtime grew near, I sat back. Hoping some of my words sank in. Wondering if it had been enough. I hope he chooses to walk with his head high. He should be proud of his work, but that’s an awfully tough lesson at times. I hope he will continue to work hard and grow even more. I hope, I hope, I hope.

Parenting is hard, really hard, sometimes. But watching our children grow into who they were meant to be? Awesome.

Slice of Life is sponsored on Tuesdays by Two Writing Teachers.

Words of Wisdom

I’ve been home from ALA for two days now – sleeping over ten hours each day, my body slowly trying to catch up. In that time I’ve had a chance to reflect on the amazing weekend, the people I had the chance to see, and the conversations I had.

As I mentioned in my ALA Slice of Life, Saturday night many of us were lucky enough to head to Elizabeth Fama’s house for the evening. Beth provided some delicious food, space to hang out, and a relaxed atmosphere. There was so much about that night that was special; I sometimes felt like I was staring at the party from the outside looking in, thinking am I really here?

As I walked around Beth’s house, I was struck by the amazing artwork that was present everywhere you look. When I asked her about it, I learned that she has four children, each of which is creative in their own way. They paint, draw, create graphic novels, are amazing cooks, and more. I did meet some of her kids, and they were incredibly kind. They ranged in age from their teens to their twenties. And towards the end of the night, when I complimented Beth on her wonderful kids, she said, “I gave birth to my best friends.”

Wow. What a statement. I think before becoming a parent, I wouldn’t have realized the full impact of that. It is one thing to love your children – I hope all parents do. But to like them? To want to spend time with them? To call them your best friends? I think that is awesome.

Whether she knows it or not, Beth Fama has just become my role model. J I love the creativity she shares with her children, how she values their choice, and the pride in her voice when she talks about them. And that statement? That has already been written down in my writing notebook. I think half of becoming a writer is knowing when to pay attention to what is being said around you. And these words, wise ones for certain. 

This summer I have spent more time away from home than ever in my life, and it has been hard on me. I didn’t realize how much I wanted to be a mom until I became one. For the first four years of being a parent, I was away from Luke – then Liam – for less than ten days. When I was gone, I felt their absence keenly. It wasn’t that I worried about them, but just wanted to be with them.

I am not a mom that dotes on her child’s every whim; I actually don’t do a great job “playing.” I like being there, providing what they need, letting them develop the ability to entertain themselves. I love lying in my room with Luke, discussing the plot of an ARC I brought home for him to read. I love sitting with Liam and writing, side by side, in our writing notebooks. Discussing the use of “and” to start a sentence. (I told him you aren’t “supposed” to, yet I do it often. We call that a craft choice.) I love conversations in the car, cooking in the kitchen, and typing on my laptop as I listen to them play. Today, I watched them run in front of me as we trekked along our route, time flashed. I hope in ten years I can say that we are still this close. I hope they will consider me their friend. I hope we run this route together, that one day I can keep up.

 Thanks for the inspiration, Beth. Who knew I would leave ALA with so much more than I dreamed. 

Teaching Boys

Before I had children of my own, if I stopped and thought about what life would be like once I had kids, those mythical “kids” were always boys. Not sure why, but they were. And I’ve now been fortunate enough to have two kids, two boys – Luke, who is almost eleven; and Liam, who is eight. While I certainly believe you can be a good teacher before becoming a parent, I know I absolutely became a better one after having children.

It was my boys that opened my eyes to the fact that the typical way elementary classrooms are set up favor compliant children, often girls. It was after having my boys that I realized the high percentage of boys diagnosed with ADD/ADHD or referred for special education. It was also after having my boys that I started paying attention to what the gender was of the child waiting to see the principal in the office. Nine times out of ten, it was a boy.

Why is this? I read up a lot on the issue, but then I started paying attention to my own classes. I will be overgeneralizing here, but when looking at fourth graders and thinking who will be in my room the following year I pay attention to:

·      The child who has an anxiety disorder

·      The child who needs “nurturing”

·      The child who hates reading

·      Any boys who are “active”

Those kids are almost always on my list. Why? Well, I struggle with anxiety myself – so I get that. I love every kid I’ve ever taught, so the nurturing makes sense. Reading – yep. And the boys…

I said goodbye to my class on Wednesday. That morning we were sitting in the classroom before heading out to the playground for field day. I looked over the room and thought how much I would miss them – and then thought about them. Ten girls, thirteen boys. Of those ten girls – and they were all incredible – eight are quiet. Two are outspoken, but not in a bad way. All incredible readers. Very little drama, if at all. (An unusual quality in fifth grade girls – made me love them even more!)

Now let me describe the boys. Thirteen of them. Eleven are outspoken or active. Wonderful students. Move a lot. At one point in the year I compared a few of them to puppies – they were rolling around on the floor and laughing non-stop. Some of them stood at their table when they wrote, one turned his chair backwards each time and knelt on it. He commented just the other day that he was surprised I never said anything about him sitting/standing that way. 

I looked at him and said, “If it helps you learn, why would I care?”

He commented that he’d never been allowed to in the past.

Last night I went to watch Liam play baseball. Chris helps coach his team so Luke and I stood behind the bleachers by ourselves, using the top row of bleachers to lean on. We stood because Luke prefers it, he’d rather be able to move than be “trapped” in a seat for the game – another lesson he has taught me. Three boys from my reading class came over – they were playing a game on the other field in a few minutes. We talked about their summer so far. Two confessed they hadn’t read that day, but promised they would when they got home. Later, three more boys came up – two from reading class, one from my homeroom. Again, we talked books and summer plans. One is finishing a series and asked if he could email me to talk about it as soon as he was done. Of course I said yes.

They left and Luke commented that he thought it was crazy that my students always came to sit and talk when they saw me. My reply was that we’d talk next year after he was in my reading class – maybe he’d see why. J  As I watched the game, I thought about it. I love all of my students; I can confidently say that every year. There are some years I’ve loved them more individually then as a class, but I’ve always loved them. That being said, I have a special spot in my heart for boys. So many have come to fifth grade and believed they were “bad.” They had their card turned, been sent to the principal, notes home, etc. Some of that is absolutely deserved, but other times I wonder if it is our expectations, our classroom environments. Sitting still, raising their hands, being quiet for large chunks of time – those are hard traits for me. How is a young active child supposed to accomplish that?

So each year I look over my class list. Often there are names that I assume I will see on it. I smile as I see them. I know that happened this year with a few, and my heart sang. I knew I would love them. Active can equal excited, or energetic. Looking at this year’s list, I knew we would have plenty of energy within our four walls, and we sure did.

And so, on Wednesday morning I looked over that room once more. I took a breath and read to them a few picture books, a letter I had written. We watched the video of photos from field day. And I smiled. Their voices sang along to the video and I lost myself into memories of the year. The crazy stuff that had happened. The study halls that were never quiet but were always productive and usually ended with me laughing so hard I cried. I began to wonder about next year’s class – thinking of the coming increase in class size. Wondering who will be on that class list? I bet I could guess a few. I know I will love them – from the moment their names appear on that list. And I know I will hate to see them leave, just as this class tore my heart in two only a couple of days ago. Is it worth it, absolutely. I hope a they leave realizing how much I loved them - the girls AND the boys. I hope they realize their potential knows no bounds. And I hope they find teachers next year who will love them for the amazing kids they are.