That's totally an unfair accusation. I half-crippled myself by wearing my normal teaching shoes after a summer of being away. I should remember next spring to fold a post it note in the right one: CHELSEY, START WITH CROCS. Sure, they're ugly and awkward, but even lazy feet can handle an eight-hour shift chasing monsters while wearing crocs.
Although, it could also be because I was in the two-year-old room today. I don't have any clue how they convince adults to work in an two-year-old environment for a living. I don't think I was off my knees all day- the minute I'd get above their eye level, something would happen and I'd have to get back down there to sort it out. Which made setting the table for lunch interesting, let me tell you. Turns out, hot dogs still roll like anything on a paper plate- technology has not advanced far enough to offer us non-cylindrical hot dogs at an affordable price.
Speaking of tech advancements, Star Trek is playing on our tv tonight. Holy heck, Wesley is playing with an Ipad. Starships are right around the corner, people! And little hypospray things to knock out your foot pain with a wisp of air. And one assumes the synthesizers will pop out a mean hot dog prism, Chicago-style.
Monday, August 8, 2011
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
Short musing
I had a busy day, and I'm a little tired, so I don't have much energy to write down anything too insightful today.
I do have this, though:
Preschool teachers: The only people on the face of the planet who feel so bad for the broken stapler that they can't throw it away.
I do have this, though:
Preschool teachers: The only people on the face of the planet who feel so bad for the broken stapler that they can't throw it away.
Tuesday, January 4, 2011
Guts
Today I wrote a book about Martin Luther King Jr. It is not a great book. It belongs to a category of books known as "social stories." These stories are actually designed to be unimaginative and involve as little actual creativity as possible. Why would I torture my precious monsters with such a book?
Because race and civil rights are too important for me to mystify the central issues with fluff.
And people, fluff is often all you get with books dedicated to Martin Luther King Jr. They tell the story of his life (which, trust me, the kids don't care about or remember in the detail the books provide), or paint this beautiful picture of how race isn't an issue anymore thanks to the good Dr. and his freedom fighters. Well, friends, I live in realityville. And in realityville, I can read studies which show that racism is actually an evolutionary mechanism of the mind which can be turned to some pretty sick purposes by our modern societies. You don't get rid of an evolutionary mechanism by keeping quiet about it and pretending no one is experiencing it (in fact, good luck getting rid of it at all- it's at least 1/2 biology). You ameliorate the negative affects of it by the social processes of education and discussion.
People get squeamish about a lot of stuff- there are topics they simply do. not. want. to discuss with their young. I get that- such discussions make me nervous, too. Sex, gender, death, etc.- they all come up (during bad weeks, on a rotating daily basis). I am highly trained to approach these conversations without adding censure (not actually all that hard, if all you do is ask open-ended questions like, "How does that make you feel?" and "What do you think about XYZ?"). That does not mean that I am even a little bit sure of my ability to handle such a loaded issue well. However, I'm stepping up to the plate, willing to at least try.
So, here is a synopsis of my book:
(Caveat: These aren't the actual words- it's saved on my school computer.)
Martin Luther King Jr. was a man who lived not too long ago. He lived at a time when some white people were mean to some black people. He helped black and white people realize this wasn't fair- he talked to a lot of people about kindness and fairness, and a lot of people listened to his words and worked together to try to fix things. Now that he is dead, we like to think about how he helps us to be friendly even now.
(Pretty boring and basic, right? And, importantly, talking about the Big Damn Issues. Four-year-olds can certainly grasp the concept of a bus boycott- but since they won't be engaging in one within the next few years, why not help them tackle something they deal with every day, like interracial relations?)
The next page is a bunch of photographs of all types of people and the words, "Why do you think we call some people black people and some people white people? How are these people different? How are they the same?"
Then a page with browns of varying colors (I'll have paint samples for passing around the actual day of)- "What color is your skin?"
And then the summary page- "Can you remember a time when someone was mean to you about how you looked? How did it make you feel? Have you ever been mean to someone? Why were you mean to them? What can you say if someone is being mean to someone else around you?"
Anyway, I'm hoping the discussion will be a lot more useful to my monsters than the "we're all the same on the inside" drivel I was fed in school. Uh, no. First of all, I thought they were talking about my physical guts, which made the next part of the speech really confusing. And secondly, Jonny and I do not now, nor have we ever, had the same reactions, interests, or motivating life experiences. We are different people, from different backgrounds. It's kind of what makes us interesting.
(Also, I just read an article that praised the MLK Jr. Day teaching practice of making white children feel guilty so that they would lose their race superiority. Guilty for shit they didn't even do. I almost threw up a little, because yes, please, let's make those tentative forays into building relationships a little more difficult, could we please?)
Because race and civil rights are too important for me to mystify the central issues with fluff.
And people, fluff is often all you get with books dedicated to Martin Luther King Jr. They tell the story of his life (which, trust me, the kids don't care about or remember in the detail the books provide), or paint this beautiful picture of how race isn't an issue anymore thanks to the good Dr. and his freedom fighters. Well, friends, I live in realityville. And in realityville, I can read studies which show that racism is actually an evolutionary mechanism of the mind which can be turned to some pretty sick purposes by our modern societies. You don't get rid of an evolutionary mechanism by keeping quiet about it and pretending no one is experiencing it (in fact, good luck getting rid of it at all- it's at least 1/2 biology). You ameliorate the negative affects of it by the social processes of education and discussion.
People get squeamish about a lot of stuff- there are topics they simply do. not. want. to discuss with their young. I get that- such discussions make me nervous, too. Sex, gender, death, etc.- they all come up (during bad weeks, on a rotating daily basis). I am highly trained to approach these conversations without adding censure (not actually all that hard, if all you do is ask open-ended questions like, "How does that make you feel?" and "What do you think about XYZ?"). That does not mean that I am even a little bit sure of my ability to handle such a loaded issue well. However, I'm stepping up to the plate, willing to at least try.
So, here is a synopsis of my book:
(Caveat: These aren't the actual words- it's saved on my school computer.)
Martin Luther King Jr. was a man who lived not too long ago. He lived at a time when some white people were mean to some black people. He helped black and white people realize this wasn't fair- he talked to a lot of people about kindness and fairness, and a lot of people listened to his words and worked together to try to fix things. Now that he is dead, we like to think about how he helps us to be friendly even now.
(Pretty boring and basic, right? And, importantly, talking about the Big Damn Issues. Four-year-olds can certainly grasp the concept of a bus boycott- but since they won't be engaging in one within the next few years, why not help them tackle something they deal with every day, like interracial relations?)
The next page is a bunch of photographs of all types of people and the words, "Why do you think we call some people black people and some people white people? How are these people different? How are they the same?"
Then a page with browns of varying colors (I'll have paint samples for passing around the actual day of)- "What color is your skin?"
And then the summary page- "Can you remember a time when someone was mean to you about how you looked? How did it make you feel? Have you ever been mean to someone? Why were you mean to them? What can you say if someone is being mean to someone else around you?"
Anyway, I'm hoping the discussion will be a lot more useful to my monsters than the "we're all the same on the inside" drivel I was fed in school. Uh, no. First of all, I thought they were talking about my physical guts, which made the next part of the speech really confusing. And secondly, Jonny and I do not now, nor have we ever, had the same reactions, interests, or motivating life experiences. We are different people, from different backgrounds. It's kind of what makes us interesting.
(Also, I just read an article that praised the MLK Jr. Day teaching practice of making white children feel guilty so that they would lose their race superiority. Guilty for shit they didn't even do. I almost threw up a little, because yes, please, let's make those tentative forays into building relationships a little more difficult, could we please?)
Monday, January 3, 2011
Extra energy
Today was the best first-day-back I've ever had. I walked into the room and felt my heart lift right out of my shoes as I looked into the tiny, wonderful, up-turned shining faces of the little people I have come to feel very strongly for. Not that my heart was actually in my shoes- I needed an extra dose of energy this morning (meaning, an extra cup of coffee), so it was actually jittering wildly around my ribcage. Still, seeing those faces was like being plugged back into a charger- yay! I missed you! Tell me everything!
After school, I am modeling life-long learning by learning about water aerobics. So far, what I have learned is that my instructor is a sadist who wants me to pant miserably while falling behind septuagenarians. Stupid old people, flutter kicking like ninjas. I think their curly white hair is some kind of buoyancy agent... more on that as I continue to investigate.
After school, I am modeling life-long learning by learning about water aerobics. So far, what I have learned is that my instructor is a sadist who wants me to pant miserably while falling behind septuagenarians. Stupid old people, flutter kicking like ninjas. I think their curly white hair is some kind of buoyancy agent... more on that as I continue to investigate.
Tuesday, December 28, 2010
Bored
It's the middle of my winter break, and I am once again struck with that odd feeling of "sigh."
Don't get me wrong! Like every other teacher anywhere, I waited and waited and wiggled oh so patiently for this break. I worked hard and, dammit, I earned this break. But now that it is upon me, I find it hard to fill a day with lazing.
Plus, I miss the kids and want to find out what fun things they did over Christmas. How pathetic is that?
Don't get me wrong! Like every other teacher anywhere, I waited and waited and wiggled oh so patiently for this break. I worked hard and, dammit, I earned this break. But now that it is upon me, I find it hard to fill a day with lazing.
Plus, I miss the kids and want to find out what fun things they did over Christmas. How pathetic is that?
Wednesday, December 22, 2010
Didn't you used to have all your teeth?
Today I visited my old kiddos in their new school. It's always bittersweet to make eye contact with them- some will remember you, and some will not. Reality being as harsh as it is, the kids you really connected with will be the type that do not.
One of my kiddos, let's call her Silent Cecily, lit up the minute I stepped in the door and ran in for a hug. I was more important to her in those three seconds of greeting than Santa. Or at least, that's the feeling I was floating on until she said, "What's your name?" I would like to say that I was crushed, but, like I said, bittersweet, harsh, etc. When you teach the young, you have to accept that you can have a profound impact on them without leaving a mental indentation of your face. So instead I laughed and told her, "Miss Chelsey," whereupon she lit up and repeated it like a mantra a few times before stating, "You said I'm smart!" Which filled me up like a freaking hot air balloon. Yes, yes I did. I gave you a microscope and some caterpillars and dinosaur bones and a journal to write in and I told you that you were smart. And, lo, you believed me.
That'll do. In this harsh world where people daily will compete with each other to try to tear you down, you never have to remember my name, hon. Just remember that I said you're smart.
One of my kiddos, let's call her Silent Cecily, lit up the minute I stepped in the door and ran in for a hug. I was more important to her in those three seconds of greeting than Santa. Or at least, that's the feeling I was floating on until she said, "What's your name?" I would like to say that I was crushed, but, like I said, bittersweet, harsh, etc. When you teach the young, you have to accept that you can have a profound impact on them without leaving a mental indentation of your face. So instead I laughed and told her, "Miss Chelsey," whereupon she lit up and repeated it like a mantra a few times before stating, "You said I'm smart!" Which filled me up like a freaking hot air balloon. Yes, yes I did. I gave you a microscope and some caterpillars and dinosaur bones and a journal to write in and I told you that you were smart. And, lo, you believed me.
That'll do. In this harsh world where people daily will compete with each other to try to tear you down, you never have to remember my name, hon. Just remember that I said you're smart.
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
Take a piece of cake with you...
Today was my second Christmas party. It went well- we sang Jingle Bells, no one bit anybody else, the gifts we spent two hours wrapping yesterday were unwrapped in less than 10 minutes, and the children were stuffed with candy until you could see their snot crystalize with the amount of sugar it contained.
It always puzzles me when people with poorly behaving two-year-olds apologize to me about them. Of course he is acting like a monster. He's two, it's a party, and everyone is watching. What better time to pull out the "I wanna" whine, followed by the "boneless heap" huddle and the "run away from mama" marathon? If he's showing us his entire repertoire, it's our job to be an appreciative audience- I especially like saying "oooh. You're gonna be in so much trouble when your mom catches you." I totally chose four-year-olds for a reason, and that kind of behavior? Totally the reason I went with the older kiddos.
Also, it's really awkward when a child obeys me instead of their parents. I always want to say, "You were handling it fine, but she's not really sure I won't eat her, so she has millions of years of evolution screaming at her that she has to listen to me to keep me appeased, whereas she knows damn well you won't kill her." I'm never actually sure that this will help the parents to deal with the fact that their little monster is my little angel, so I usually just smile and joke about the power of counting backwards from 5. I do, however, really enjoy the preening I get to do when they look at me awestruck and and ask how I do it for 8 hours out of my day. My favorite response is, "Well, with travel time and lunch, I'm really only doing it for 7."
Finally, what kind of insane person drops off a 25 lb 8-layer cake for their kindergartener's Christmas party? An awesome person, yes, obviously- I'll make sure she gets personally invited to every party this year. But what the hell am I going to do with all these leftovers?
It always puzzles me when people with poorly behaving two-year-olds apologize to me about them. Of course he is acting like a monster. He's two, it's a party, and everyone is watching. What better time to pull out the "I wanna" whine, followed by the "boneless heap" huddle and the "run away from mama" marathon? If he's showing us his entire repertoire, it's our job to be an appreciative audience- I especially like saying "oooh. You're gonna be in so much trouble when your mom catches you." I totally chose four-year-olds for a reason, and that kind of behavior? Totally the reason I went with the older kiddos.
Also, it's really awkward when a child obeys me instead of their parents. I always want to say, "You were handling it fine, but she's not really sure I won't eat her, so she has millions of years of evolution screaming at her that she has to listen to me to keep me appeased, whereas she knows damn well you won't kill her." I'm never actually sure that this will help the parents to deal with the fact that their little monster is my little angel, so I usually just smile and joke about the power of counting backwards from 5. I do, however, really enjoy the preening I get to do when they look at me awestruck and and ask how I do it for 8 hours out of my day. My favorite response is, "Well, with travel time and lunch, I'm really only doing it for 7."
Finally, what kind of insane person drops off a 25 lb 8-layer cake for their kindergartener's Christmas party? An awesome person, yes, obviously- I'll make sure she gets personally invited to every party this year. But what the hell am I going to do with all these leftovers?
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