Be Better

Today on the English Companion Ning, I read this post: To Be or To Be Better, an inspiring reminder by Tgraff11 of Maine. Her reminder to

be better 

for our students 

and to never, ever 

take 

their actions 

(or lack of action) 

personally

made me contemplate my attitude toward one student in particular -- and think about how "better" might look coming from me. The entire post, linked above, is worth reading for anyone who works with students of any age. (Formatted text and coloring above added by me.)
Photo: http://www.flickr.com/photos/robbn1/ / CC BY 2.0

Today's Tooth Tally: Two

Two of my students lost a tooth today.

Losing a tooth at school means you get to write out a yellow nurse pass. If you are bleeding and have to hold a Kleenex in the tooth hole, you may have a friend write your nurse pass. On your way out the door, you drop your tissue on top of the trash, with the blood displayed like some kind of announcement.

In the nurse’s office, you swish with warm salt water from a white paper cup. The nurse gives you a purple plastic tooth box, and you place your tooth securely in it, but on your way back up to class, you can’t help opening it twice, just to look. It’s a molar.

You shove the tiny box into your jeans pocket, where it forms a bump that you can’t stop touching, just like the tooth hole your tongue keeps finding, smooth, like a pecan from the playground. Later, at the window, you open the box again, hold your tooth up to the light, and show your friend.

Photo:  http://www.flickr.com/photos/bradleyallen/ / CC BY-NC-SA 2.0

New Research Proves Very Touching

Being a mom, I have a hard time not scruffing students fondly on the head. But I restrain myself, not wanting to mess up hair, cross an invisible boundary, or make anyone feel like a baby. (Not to mention: I wouldn't want anyone touching my hair at school -- it's such a germy place.) I was pleased to see this story in yesterday's New York Times spotlighting research findings that "students who received a supportive touch on the back or arm from a teacher were nearly twice as likely to volunteer in class as those who did not." Little arm pats are O.K.!

Photo:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/jarora81/ / CC BY-NC-SA 2.0

Do these test scores make my butt look big?

You know that something is not right with your mind when the smell of the school cafeteria nachos convinces you that processed corn topped with liquid cheese would be a better choice than the apple, cheese stick and homemade veggie soup you have waiting in the teachers'-lounge refrigerator. You go, zombie-like, to the chow line, pick up your carton of milk and your pack of little plasticware, order your nachos to go, add on a bag of Cool Ranch Doritos, a chocolate chip cookie, and a styrofoam cup of iced tea, then take it back to your classroom and consume it in a trance.

This, my friend, is February. We are over halfway through the school year, and some students have not made it to the halfway point in terms of learning or behavior. The writing TAKS is two weeks away. The sky is perpetually gray. The school hallways are 45 degrees. The Coke machine eats 75 cents for every $2 you feed it, but by gosh, that Diet Coke might just get you

through the afternoon.

I am not the only one whose pants are getting tight. Last Monday, my mentor teacher, a 35-year veteran of public schools, said she could not button her khakis that morning. She was wearing a cute sweater and jacket, so the pants problem was not noticeable. Nor did it seem to bother her. She shrugged as she slid a bag of cookies onto the table where we were meeting. "TAKS season," she said, the same as one might say, "the holidays," or "freshman fifteen," or "steroids."

And so, I eat my way through February -- trying to get some fruits and veggies, stay away from the Coke machine, and pack lunches that, at 11 a.m., will outshine the cafeteria nachos in my skewed mind. (How can they get away with serving nachos, anyway?)

Dog photo: 

http://www.flickr.com/photos/21206761@N00/ / CC BY-NC-ND 2.0

Cupcake photo: 

http://www.flickr.com/photos/rakka/ / CC BY-NC-ND 2.0

Our Tree in Winter

She's still holding onto those leaves, but little knots have appeared on her limbs in promise of spring. Yesterday, we watched her transform throughout the day. Snow collected on her branches and leaves, piling and piling, until swoosh, a heavy clump would fall to the ground.

And here she was two months ago.

Best Student Book Review Ever

This book, a gift from my friend and the author Nancy Bo Flood, arrived in the mail last week. It's a signed advanced release copy of her new middle-grade (and up) novel, Warriors in the Crossfire, about two friends -- one native, the other Japanese -- on Saipan during the final days of World War II. I had read the novel in draft form and was proud to have the ARC in my hands.

I dove right into Warriors that night, then took it to school with me the next day to show my students and to continue reading after lunch during our daily silent-reading time. Toward the end of the school day, a serious boy quietly asked me if I had any extra homework for him that night.

No student has ever asked me that. I was not prepared. I hated to give him a TAKS editing practice sheet. He makes perfect scores on those, and they're boring. Then I had an idea. This boy devours books and goes to the library at least three mornings a week for new ones. He recently had written a chilling, somewhat disturbing (but riveting and fairly well-written) essay about a haunted house he had lived in. He could handle the reading level and subject matter of Warriors. I picked up my prized ARC and said, "I have a book for you to read. My friend wrote it, and I am enjoying it, but I'd really like to see what a 10-year-old boy thinks of it."

He nodded. "I can do that."

I handed him the book. "Maybe you could write me a note about what you think about the book, kind of a little book review -- whether you like it or not."

"I have paper at home," he said. (He seemed proud of this. Not all my students have school supplies at home.) He took it right back to his seat and started reading. Five minutes later, we made eye contact and he gave me a thumbs-up. "I like it so far," he said.

He apparently did like it, because he finished the whole thing that night. The next morning, he pulled it out of his backpack as he walked through my door. The book of course had some wear and tear from from being handled and read by a 10 year old. I was fine with that (though I would not lend an ARC to just any student).

"It was really good," he said, eyes shining. "It took me longer to read than most of my books."

He opened the book. "Here. I wrote about it in the front."

Oh, dear, I thought. Maybe he just inserted the his piece of paper into the front.

But no. He proudly showed me his review, inscribed boldly on the title page:

I exclaimed my appreciation and said I would let the author know how much he liked it. So, Nancy, here's your first in-book student review!

This only makes my ARC of Warriors more valuable. To me.