Sunday, March 30, 2014

A Few of My Favorite Things...(Early Spring Edition)

 1. Reminder notes.
She wrote, "We need a new tire." and taped it to the door to remind Mark that the school van had a flat.
 2. Recycled computer paper-square-shaped snowflakes in Spring.
 3. This boy (almost) running after his ball (and then eating dirt).
 4. This girl who gets excited over the arrival of a tow truck to fix a flat tire.
 5. More reminder notes.
Some workers came to fix sewage pipes behind our house. Isabella wrote them a note and taped it to the chicken coop. I didn't realize what she was doing until I went out to see for myself.
 "My chickens were here but they died."  
I guess she felt it was important that the workers knew what happened.
Our landlord asked if it was a warning note to other chickens.
 6. These roses! Each year this rose bush blooms outside the playroom window for about 2-3 weeks. It is just gorgeous. Each year I take pictures of the roses but don't know what to do with them. So I post them on my blog.

Saturday, March 29, 2014

St. Patrick's Day

St. Patrick's Day Breakfast for Dinner.
 Isabella walked into my room first thing Monday morning and asked if the Leprechauns had visited. I had totally forgot it was St. Patrick's day (and apparently children remember every tradition you have ever started, even if the holiday falls on a Monday.) I told her they might come while she was at school.

When she arrived home that day she was utterly disappointed when she didn't see leprechaun footprints in our house and figured they hadn't come.  Then she discovered the note they left her in her mailbox at home.
Crisis averted.

Note from Teacher Self to Parent Self: Don't Judge A Classroom By Its Appearance

Mark and I taught in NYC during the Era of the Bulletin Boards. It was determined that the appearance of the hallway bulletin boards would indicate of the level of learning happening inside the classroom. What it actually became was a professional reflection of the teachers and one of the biggest headaches of our jobs; we could be written up if our boards did not meet certain specifications by certain deadlines. Each bulletin board had to have a range of student work displayed that showed what they were learning in a particular unit. The standards had to be written out and posted to validate the work. And the worst part, I thought, was that the students were expected to be able to explain their work and the standard it met, should a VIP walk down the hall and ask them about it. 

It wasn't just the bulletin boards.

I dreaded the click-clack sound of our principal's high heels coming down the hallway, the rhythm slowing just outside my door. 

One time She entered my room looking tired and sullen as she cast her critical glance.

"Your library doesn't have 700 books," she said waving her finger in the direction of the baskets on the other side of the room--which were stuffed with books. 

Have you counted them? I thought to myself. 

But instead I obeyed her command to go upstairs to the resource room and get more books. 

Everything was about appearance. The classroom had to be print-rich! Books by the hundreds! Chart paper filled up with learning strategies! Rocking chairs for read-a-louds! Classroom rugs to gather on to learn to read and write!

As nice as it appeared, none of it helped the kid with the violent outbursts, or the one who refused to work or the other one who wouldn't stay in his seat. My time and their time was constantly sucked up by vain attempts at managing student behavior while trying to maintain an environment of learning.  It never quite felt like enough learning was taking place in my classroom.

Fast forward to 2013 and my daughter's first year of public school. 

Isabella is fortunate to attend a small, country school less than a mile from our house. It has a good reputation in our school district and we are lucky to actually live in the school's geographical zone; I think most students who attend are open-enrolled. 

Days before her first day school, we learned there would be two classes for kindergarteners: one straight Kinder class and a K-1 split class. We were able to visit the two classrooms and meet both teachers, but the class she would be assigned to would not be known until 5 p.m., the day before the first day of school. 

The Kindergarten classroom was beautiful and friendly and welcoming. The tables and buckets on the tables were color coordinated. The rug and library area were neat and organized. The walls were decorated with welcome signs and a calendar. The teacher of the kindergarten class had been hired by the former principal who I know, personally. There was even a play kitchen.

The K/1 classroom literally looked a few shades darker. The room was cluttered and disorganized. There were  few parents visiting the room. We met the teacher, who has teaching for a long time. She introduced herself and asked Isabella what her name was. Isabella responded “I-S-A-B-E-L-L-A”. She then said, “Well hello, I-S-A-B-E-L-L-A”.

I liked her rapport with Isabella and I just had a sense that Isabella would be assigned to her class- not the class I was hoping for. Mostly I was concerned about Isabella having a "genuine" kindergarten experience and how the dynamics of the classroom might be different with older kids in the mix.  I wanted her to be a classroom with a play kitchen so I would know that the academics would be balanced with play and imagination and developing good social skills. And truthfully, I wanted her to be in a classroom that was bright and colorful and organized. I wanted it to be a good experience but I also wanted it to look good. 


At 5 p.m. the day before the first day of school, it was confirmed that Isabella had been assigned to the K-1 class.  Mark and I talked that night about calling and requesting a change, but three of Isabella’s friends from preschool were also assigned to the same class and I knew she would love being with them. So we decided to wait and give it a little time. 


Isabella has long since passed her 100th day of Kindergarten in the K-1 class. She loves her class and her teacher and her friends. She loves learning and reading. And even though the first few months of school were rough due to the physical exhaustion of the long days, I learned after the first few days that her room, and her teacher, and her class is perfect for her. 


Isabella's teacher is a music teacher by training. Because she has taught for so many years, she knows teaching and children and the system and all of its changes over the past 30 years. And my sense is she kind of bucks that system, and I like that. A lot. She’s an old-school teacher. 


I love that Isabella comes home singing songs she learned in school. I love that at Christmas time, her teacher created a story about a gingerbread boy who was running amuck at the school and had the kids think of ways to catch him using traps. I love that even though the room may look chaotic in its appearance, it is very well controlled in its behavior. I love that the school's curriculum is project based and the evidence of that, in her classroom, just happens to spill over onto the desks and walls and tables.

Isabella is learning, and more importantly she loves learning. Her class, the room, and her teacher are part of her love of learning. And as for the play kitchen? She has one at home--which she rarely plays with.


The kinders and first graders just completed a unit about studying different materials. It culminated in a materials open house where the kids got to display boats that they designed and built out of everyday materials.

Isabella made a ferry boat out of styrofoam and a paper towel tube. It had to be able to float for 30 minutes. She decorated it with pom poms and glitter.
Her open house included work materials that were tested during the unit.
It also included her journal. This had nothing to do with the unit but I liked this entry:
"Tomorrow my Nana is going to blast into space. It will be so cool."
Boat design open house
"I made a ferry boat because it can float. All boats have funnels. I put glitter and pom-poms on."
"The cardboard floats but it gets wet and bend-y. The styrofoam floats. It stayed on top of the water."
Other materials for the parents to play with during the open house.

The Climbing Tree

 We wanted to bring Mark to the Climbing Tree at Westwood Hills, since he'd never been.
The first time Isabella and I visited the climbing tree we were surrounded by friends, so it was super fun. The second time we came upon a herd of cows. The third time--this time--we found some rope swings.

 We (and by "we" I mean Mark) tried to fix one of the ropes that was tangled in the trees.

But "we" only made it worse.
Trying to fix the problem. Only created new ones. I'm kind of afraid of heights--or maybe just falling out of trees.
Matthew walked around and ate the soft pretzels I made for dinner the night before. That's right, dinner. They were so good they became the main course. The sides were rosemary-cheddar cheese dipping sauce, apples, carrots, and a frozen pizza.
Matthew also kept dropping his pretzels on the ground near all the cow patties.
The Climbing Tree must be The Giving Tree's evil twin brother because this tree was not about to give all that it had to the boy it loved. Nope, this tree attacked this boy.
He now goes by the name, Scarface.
 But the Climbing Tree loves this little girl and she loves It back.
And I love this beautiful place and the people who share it with me.