Happy Birthday, Nana
general
Week One
Week one is under behind us, and it’s been a start unlike any other. For one thing, I’ve been cycling to work, and except for Monday, which was a workday followed by meet the teacher in the evening, I’ve ridden every day this week. A total of 104 km or just over sixty miles. With my additional evening riding, it puts me at 240 km for the month, with another 120-ish on tap next week. (Add in the walking I’ve remembered to track and it rises to 350 km.) It’s by far the most I’ve ridden in a single month since K and I became parents, and it’s had a tremendous effect on everything else. Starting the day with a good bike ride gets me to the school more alert, awake, and energetic than I’ve ever felt when going by car. Ending the day with a good bike ride brings me home feeling I’ve really accomplished something for the day: not only have I spent my day well, working with kids, but I’ve got my exercise in as well.
Once at school, it’s been a start of the year unlike any other as well. Last year was a bear, a real challenge that left me questioning whether I really wanted to keep teaching. I knew it was only an off year, but when you’re only five days into a 180-day school year and you already see a year of hard struggle with behavior issues stretching before you, it’s enough to make you question your commitment. This year, though, one week in and I see that this year might actually be fun again, not such a struggle.
First Week
Dear Terrence,
We’re nearing the end of our first week of school. Where are you? Three days in and I’d always be able to tell who would be my Terrences and my Teresas this year would be. Last year, I could tell within three seconds. You probably think I’m being hyperbolic (exaggerating for effect), but it’s true: one Teresa (and there were so many last year) introduced herself with her actions and words before she even entered my classroom, and several of the Terrences made clear their priorities just as they’d stepped inside my room. This year, I just don’t know where you are. Granted, I’ve seen a glimmer of you in this student and that, but you — that attitude, that consistently disruptive behavior, that anger, that defiance — are nowhere to be seen.
While that does relieve me for the most part, I must admit that there’s a little part of me that’s somewhat unnerved by it. I’m used to seeking you out and working with you and your issues immediately, and the fact that you haven’t appeared makes me think that perhaps I’ve lost my discerning edge or that perhaps you’ve gotten better at blending in and will pop up later than expected. I enjoy the challenge, that’s true, but the fact that I still haven’t figured out who you are this year gives me a bit more hope about the future than I usually have. Maybe my cynicism and pessimism are misplaced. We’ll see as soon as the honeymoon period wears off.
In the meantime, I just want to thank you for keeping it cool. I’m still fairly sure you’re out there somewhere, but you’re blending in nicely now, and that makes my job a whole lot more enjoyable.
With beginning-of-the-year hope,
Your Teacher
Balance
Since we've added a trampoline (free from friends in our Polish community whose boys, now in high school and college, have no interest in it) to our entertainment possibilities, I've come to see the whole potentially injurious toy in a whole new way. Sure, there's the possibility broken bones, I guess, snapped spines, but in truth, I don't think there's the kind of jumping going on down there that could lead to such tragedies. And the advantages are overwhelming at times. There is of course the simple fact that it's an enclosed space that allows the adults to relax while the kids go crazy.
But what I've noticed most is the incredible improvement in both the kids' balance and, to borrow an eduspeak term, their kinesthetic intelligence. When we first began the jumping and bouncing, the Boy fell quite frequently. All you had to do is jump somewhat near him and the jolt of the trampoline below him would be enough to send him tumbling -- laughing often but frustrated just as often. Now, we hop all around him, and he seems simply to absorb it all with a bit of knee action. He's gone from little timid hops to being able to bound across the whole trampoline with only four or so jumps.
The Girl seems to enjoy it the most, though. We've lately been taking the whole popcorn idea to an absurd -- and dangerous, K insists -- level. Basically I launch her: she sits near the middle, I take a giant leap and land right beside her, and Newton's third takes care of the rest -- she pops up three, four feet into the air and lands on her feet. And if I get the timing just right, I launch her again at that moment, sending her flying yet again, making her laugh even harder. Which gets me to laughing. Which amuses the Boy. Which is why I ultimately have come to love our trampoline.
First Day 2015
“Goodnight, couch potato!”
I stopped on my way out the door just long enough to turn and give a smirk smeared with a grin. “Couch potato indeed,” I thought. Just because I’d almost fallen asleep while playing cars with the kids earlier this evening doesn’t make me a couch potato. I biked to work, wrestled with all the first-day problems that consume a teacher’s initial planning periods, taught five lessons straight, and biked home in a fairly substantial rain — couch potato indeed. Still, I just gave L a smile mixed with a slight smirk, wished her goodnight again, and headed out.
L had a rough first day in a lot of ways. Now in third grade, she heads upstairs to the classrooms that house the third, fourth, and fifth grades. Assigned a teacher known for being strict, she fretted throughout the evening about the news that they will have assigned lunch seats starting tomorrow. “Last year, we only got assigned seats when we were bad!” she sniffled, and I think I know at least part of what’s going on: L tries very hard to be a good student, and when she hears that they’re getting assigned seats, which she usually associates with misbehavior, she begins doubting her own goodness in class. It’s a fairly natural reaction, I would think, but L chews and chews on things like this until she wears it down or it wears her down.
We talked about it a bit tonight, and in the course of that conversation, one of the real concerns became evident, a concern that I myself remember having when I was in elementary school. “We don’t have a bathroom in the class.” Instead, they must share the facilities with fourth and fifth graders. Who knows what that might lead to, she reasons. And while I certainly think there’s little to worry about, I do recall how we’re seeing more and more news reports that show children younger and younger growing more and more brutal. It’s unlikely, though, that anything worse than a sideways glance from a fifth grader might happen. But I too remember that fear that comes with being thrown in among older kids who are completely unknown.
The Boy, on the other hand, had a completely different experience. “But Mommy, I’m not ready to go,” he told K when she picked him up from his part-time K-3 (K-3? Is there any limit to this?!) program. The teacher commented on his manners, which consistently imzpress me, and he likely commented continually about the enormous Thomas the Train play station in his room.
And my day? First day back as an eighth-grade teacher is always a bit stressful. I’d already had my visit with the seventh-grade assistant principal to find out which students could be most challenging and therefore which students I need to focus on as I developed relationships with 100+ new thirteen-year-olds. But despite the schedule I feared would be brutal, I mounted my bike feeling I might not have had a better first day in my entire teaching career.
Eleven
Had I been writing in MTS eleven years ago (it didn't even exist, of course), I wouldn't have written about our wedding until the next day, at the very earliest. I doubt I would have done more than a picture and a few words the second day, because it too was filled with festivities. While we didn't have a Polish two-day wedding, our Sunday was still quite busy with friends and family. So perhaps that's all an elaborate excuse for not writing yesterday about our anniversary when it actually was our anniversary.
Eleven years make 132 months or 572 weeks or 4015 days.
Last Few Days
Around the house the last few days.
Choices
K walks out the door first today, and we're chatting in Polish. I turn to the kids and continue in Polish: "Hurry up and finish eating because we're leaving soon." Emil responds in Polish: "Not in Polish, Daddy, in English. Mama's not here."
A Rainbow, Some Circuits, and Cars
We've had rain every afternoon for the past several days. After such a long streak of dry weather, it is certainly a welcome view, even if it does prevent the kids from going outside. But the rain really only lasts an hour or so in the late afternoon, so it's easy to work around. Today, though, we got an added bonus: our own personal rainbow.
"Do you think there's a pot of gold at the end?" L asked, and it occurred to me that we might actually be able to make our fortune if that were the case as both ends the rainbow seemed to be within our property lines. We wouldn't even have to worry about claims of the property owner once we tracked down the gold. Sadly, though, before we could go out and hunt it down (or perhaps both down -- who knows whether or not rainbows have treasure at both ends), the colors faded.
But the rain really wasn't even a problem for the kids: everyone had something to do. L was busy loading apps on the tablet she bought for herself with the money she's been collecting. I won't quite say "saving" because it's been burning a cliche hole in her pocket, and she got most of it in one go. Still, she managed to hold off on spending it in Poland, likely because Babcia kept her financed and all the friends who came to visit brought little knickknacks as well
As for the Boy, he was, as usual, content playing with his cars.
Uneventfully Full Sunday
Mass, lunch, a bit of planning (school year's starting up soon), dinner at the neighbors' house -- sounds like there's plenty to write about, but going to bed early is more appealing.