Today my grandson, a junior in high school, is getting a new teacher in statistics.  There are about 4 weeks left in the semester.  It is spring outside.  The new teacher is fresh out of college.  Oh Boy!  God bless her.  She will face her angst real fast.  I am thinking about what one gift I could offer her and the only thing I come up with is the Rule Of Three.  It goes like this:  Get to know each student's name real fast.  Then establish your rules and expectations (if you have any).  Let your students know what they are (less is better).  Make a practice of acknowledging when you see one of your expectations in practice:

1. Say the student's name.  2.  Complement the behavior specifically   3.Give the student something--a smile, a pat on the back, a star, a piece of candy.

     Be consistent.  Don't notice negative behavior overtly.  Catch the student being good.   Try it.  You can make it work.

oh, what a beautiful morning!

Oh, what a beautiful morning!...the teacher enters the classroom. Yes...it's been cleaned nicely, she rushes to the copy machine, waits in line to run off some "funsheets." The teacher thinks of her own life: She has to call home to see if her own 8th grader is up. Did you eat? Are you still feeling sick? Did Daddy leave for work? Stay in bed. Drink water. Don't get on the phone. No television until the afternoon...I'll call you, keep the phone with you. She hangs up. The day begins.

Oh, what a beautiful morning! ...24 children stream into the classroom, about 4 of them vying to be first...The teacher is watching each one for so many indicative behaviors: can the child TRANSITION? Is he--hanging up his coat, getting stuff out of the book bag, putting homework into the homework bin, giving notes to the teacher, putting any books "funsheet," reading directions, completing it, and putting it on the pile on the teacher's desk--all before the PA comes on? Morning Announcements on the PA...The day betgins.

Oh what a beautiful morning...litany:
I threw up this morning...I still don't feel good. Can I go to the nurse?
I didn't do my homework.
We had homework?
I forgot my trumpet. Can I call my mother?
My foster mom don't want me anymore. I'll be leaving...soon.
Did I leave my glasses here last night? I can't find them.
I forgot to take home my speller.
My dog is getting put down today.
My grandfather has cancer.
My father lost his job.
I lost my lunch money. Did you see it?
I'm never going to see my father again.
This weekend is my weekend with my father. He says I can bring a friend.

It's nine o'clock....time for first period.
Oh what a beautiful morning!

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways...

A while ago, when my own children were in grade school I made the expected visits to the teachers during parent conferences. One unforgettable visit ended by the teachers—my son was in a multi-age group IGE—agreeing that there was nothing positive they could say about him. “How about something nice, then,?” I pleaded. Nope, these very new teachers couldn’t come up with “nice” either. That really hurt a lot.
Much of my own attitude toward my fourth-grade students hinges from that one incident. All I wanted of his teachers was to know that they liked him. It was a lightbulb moment when I realized that liking my child, or any child for that matter, is the most important and basic thing a parent could want from a teacher. Because of that one moment, I vowed to see the beauty, the essential sweetness and promise of children in my care. Sometimes it’s quite a stretch. But never have I failed to try. I make sure to tell my parents in our one-on-ones that I really like their child. Then I get in any “corrective feedback” that needs to be said…and of course, the positive things about their child. I find too that by saying that I like their child, I really do feel it. I remember only too well that in back of each little person is a very proud, protective parent. Or there should be. Oh, yes…my son went on to become president of his class all 4 years of high school. He loves school, is always learning, holds 2 Masters Degrees, and reads the classics every night to his three small children. I wish that for any and all parents—even for those teachers

Jolly Ranchers--the power of Jolly Ranchers

A wonderful moment occurs when one discovers the suckable, tasty, paperwrapped, red, blue, orange, green, yellow, etc., Jolly Rancher. Kids already know about them. They long for the taste. They last long. Used wisely and with discretion they become a wonderful motivater...especially in the beginning of the year, or with a new teacher, or substitute.
However, strict rules must be followed (as in all worthwhile endeavors). Using quality instruction and enough practice--demonstrate the behavior or desired outcome. (You teachers know what I am talking about.) As students begin to demonstrate a successful outcome--slap a Jolly Rancher down on the desk. Make it loud. Say the kid's name, what he did, and what he's getting (the blue Jolly Rancher, of course). Like wildfire, the rest of the class will vie for the Jolly Rancher. Done right...it's magic.
Intrinsic motivation will come eventually as the notion of success seeps into the psyche. Gradually fade off with the Jolly Ranchers...say the kids' names and what they did to be so great--one at a time. They'll no longer need the sweet taste of success to succeed.

...a year in fourth grade...

January 29, 2006

School is where everything happens…especially 4th grade. No longer babies, these younglings come to school knowing a lot and so eager for more. School is the melting pot of all emotions. These boys and girls come out of the shadows of their homes in the early morning hours. They meet. They CONVERGE…with all that that entails…they return to the shades of evening and to family. What goes on there doesn’t stay there. It all comes to school in one way or another. School is where everything happens…especially 4th grade.
I teach them. I wait each morning for the stories of their hearts. Yellow buses drop them off. They come racing in, or just walking in, or staring and wandering in. I carry my stories also. Our day together begins. We spend the day: we learn, we question, we play, we laugh, we hurt, we cry, we heal…yes, it’s our year in fourth grade.