#11

11 is a Vietnamese American who does not speak English at home. She is the middle of three very bright, very quiet girls. I was told by her fourth grade teacher that she was incredibly shy and would hardly ever speak. What I witnessed was a 10 year old girl who was trying to come out of her shell but was not only unsure about her personality, but also about if people would understand.

11 spoke to me from early on. Probably out of necessity but it also must have been a safe bet. She would ask me questions about the work we were doing and about how to say something the right way in her writing. She wrote a lot. Her answers were almost always right on and only sometimes incomprehensible. Most of the time the verbs were not in the correct tense, but that was the only problem and is a very common problem. She seemed so competent and, yet, would sit at snack time just observing. At recess, she often wandered alone, or sometimes hovered at the outskirts of a group, many times being left behind as they ran off to some urgent situation by the playground or off in the field. It reminded me of myself, watching, understanding, but somehow finding it hard to jump into a conversation. I tried multiple seating arrangements. I tried asking my girls to look out for her, but after a while, they gave up because she was just too hesitant to really join the group.

What it took was Vietnam. And unfortunately it was at the end of the year, but like everything else, it was a learning experience. Our new principal decided that our school needed to study some other countries. So Global Studies week was born. And teachers chose a country and figured out how to "study" it since that was the extent of the directions for the week. So I asked my class what country they wanted to study. I was thinking about Vietnam, but didn't want to put 11 and 10 on the spot if they didn't want to be. So I had everyone write down a country. 11 put Vietnam and 10 wrote that she didn't care which country. So I rigged the vote and our class was studying Vietnam - paired with the third grade class that 11's sister, J, was in.

11 came alive during that first week of June. I had some things planned, but 11 had even more and most of my plans fell to the wayside in order to incorporate all the things 11 wanted to share. She told us stories, she brought in posters from home showing the fashion and the zodiac animals, she laughed at our pronunciations and tried to teach us, she shared her red envelopes from New Years, brought in chopsticks so we could try them, and even printed out pictures of some traditional food and festivals. The best parts of that week though were seeing 11 talking during snack time. Interjecting and interrupting and having a personality. She had a group of girls working with her at the back table on making 3D drawings of all 12 zodiac animals. She was playing four square at recess and having one-on-one conversations. But the absolute best part of the week was on the last day of "Global Studies" she and her mother made fried rice. She brought it in to share with both classes. She and J were both dressed in their traditional "long dresses" and these two shy, hesitant girls wandered around the classroom of 40 kids showing everyone how to use the chopsticks to eat the rice. All she needed was to be an authority - to be able to share and have something that people could connect with. Again, I wish this had happened at the beginning of the year, so she could have grown and expanded her friendships, but I can only hope that the bonds she made will continue into next year and that the self confidence she found will carry over into her everyday actions.

#10

The first out of all my former students to wear Chuck Taylors on a regular basis. Red Chucks and a red hoodie sweatshirt. She was a hip low-key kind of gal. She had just moved to town from Worcester, but you wouldn't have known it. She was placed in my class because the brains- in- charge thought she might be friends with 11, the other Vietnamese fifth grader. But the two girls could not have been different. 10 was silly and friendly and very confident with English. She had inside jokes with half the girls in my class and half the girls in the class next door within 2 days of being in school. 10 also was one of the brightest kids I have had in all 5 years of teaching. She just 'got' everything. The answers she gave me on written work were so complete that they usually went a step further than everyone else and even included voice and humor! Her writing was such a pleasure to read. Hopefully she didn't get bored with my constant comments of "Yes!" or "Exactly!" but that is how I felt after reading her responses to things. I actually felt more like writing "You make me feel like a competent teacher!" but I guess that might have been a bit much. 10 really was the epitome of being a pleasure in class. Always smiling, always listening and participating, never mean or dramatic, and unconditionally agreeable. She is the kind of student every teacher loves but, more than that, she is the kind of person that people love.

#9

I wish I could have spent more time with 9. Throughout the year and more than just one year. She is one that I was worried to have in class. Although I had never heard of her before, she had three letters next to her name that make any teacher shiver: ODD. Oppositional Defiant Disorder. A fairly new, but commonly used term to describe a defiant kid. 9 has had a rough life. Her father died when she was 5 and her mother basically left her in the care of her grandparents (or great-grandparents) at that point and didn't show up into her life until this year. 9 is a horse girl. She works in the stables and rides in shows on the weekends. She also owns lots of dogs. The unfortunate part of having all these animals is that 9's house is not clean - and she smelled. Like dogs and horse stables.

The beginning of the year was tough. It seemed she already had some built in nemeses and she was quiet and rough around the edges. Although she never really got a group of girls within the classroom, I did see her forge some friendships with some of the boys in the room. She also had some good friends out on the playground, with whom she will hopefully be placed next year.

9 also struggled with math. She was one of those kids who sits right on the fence between the overgrown weed-infested lawn of laziness and the dirt-covered plant-barren lawn of a learning problem. I have been thinking about 9 lately and wishing I had had her tested. And possibly 18 and 8 too. There is always something that holds me back from testing too many kids. And I was dealing with 7 and 4 for most of the year so the ones with less severe issues took a back burner. I have decided that in the future, I am going to put in for any kid that I have a question about.

Around March the school nurse finally had a talk with 9 about cleanliness and hygiene and it made some very noticeable and positive improvements. She seemed happier and brighter. I saw a sense of humor and an ability to deal with other people's faults without being harsh and mean. Her whole personality changed just from feeling better about herself and probably from getting more normal reactions from other people. Another lesson learned - deal with hygiene problems as soon as you notice them. And don't always listen to the letters labeling students' names.

#8

8 is a sweet boy. He was the first face I saw in the morning, reminding me that my leisurely breakfast time with a co-teacher had ended and I had to start being responsible and in charge. 8's grades were so-so, his handwriting stunk, and he often left out capitalization and punctuation. But he seemed happy and fit right in with the 'video game' group. Despite not taking much pride in his work, it seemed like he was going to have a pretty good year, especially compared to the emotional breakdowns paired with meddling cafeteria worker mother, which I had heard about from previous years.

That was until the crying started. I had heard about the crying but figured by fifth grade most of the kids' old baby-ish ways have died down or been stifled by the desire to fit in. Apparently there was no stifling 8 when he got upset. I don't even remember what caused it because it was something very, very small, but 8 would not come talk to me in the hall and then burst out crying. I tried to talk to him, reason with him, even console him but he would not respond, just shake his head furiously. The principal was in a meeting, "but should be out soon." So I tried to start a new lesson, figuring that desire to fit would kick in if his sobbing was framed by the quiet reading of a social studies text. But no. His "crying" continued even when the tears had obviously run out and it had turned into the sound of a toy firetruck's siren that was running out of batteries. We couldn't even read and the kids were looking somewhat disturbed so I finally prepared them for their special a little early, opened the door to a neighboring room, and emptied the room, save for the pretense of a blubbering inconsolable ten year old boy. The principal eventually talked to him and allowed his mother to speak to him, which I was concerned was all he wanted through all of this. This was the first of 4 times that this would happen throughout the year. And, of course, the blame was placed on medicine. Until the last time it happened when he was not on the medicine anymore.

The third tantrum he had was because I told him that someone cutting him in line was, "not the end of the world." We were walking right by the cafeteria and he found solace in a little hallway. He would not budge so I went around to the front and told his mother, "your son is crying in the little hallway in the back, but I would really appreciate if you would stay in here and not get involved this time." So she immediately walks out to the back and tries to talk to him. What was his response? Slapping her hand away and running behind a door.
The force of bad parenting is something that I cannot win war against. I can try to fight the battles, but 8's mom reminded me of what I am up against.

#7

You know how they say kids slip through the cracks in public education? It seemed like everyone in 7's past had gotten together one day, taken jackhammers and pick axes, created a giant crack, and pushed 7 right into it. 7 had been held back in kindergarten. No major improvements were made. Something seems a little strange, right? Nah, let's just widen the crack a little. 7 was suggested for testing in second grade. But mom wants to "wait and see." And the crack gets wider. Everyone who sees the mother's comments decide that she is armed and dangerous and ready for a fight with anyone who dares to bring up the idea of testing again. Now 7 is peering down into the depths of the crack wondering if this was made especially for him. He gets assigned to a new teacher in fourth grade who lets him lay his head on his desk half the day and wouldn't know what to look for or how to start the process of testing. He gets moved on to fifth grade and is hanging by two fingers looking down into the oblivion of school hatred that can only end when the final MCAS is failed and the option to drop out becomes apparent.

I am no miracle worker. I don't mean to say that I came along and saved the day. I just looked at those three words and saw them as something less than a call to arms. So we tested. And he turned out to be functioning lower than any other kid in the fifth grade. Especially in math. Poor 7 now had to deal with sitting in his new math class with this outfit of outcasts that he had known his whole life to be the lowest of the low. And now they were understanding concepts that he could not get his mind around. It was rough at first, but 7 got used to his surroundings and even gained some confidence. It always amazed me that 7 maintained such a good attitude despite always feeling like he was in over his head. I will miss his sly, sometimes sneaky smile and his desire to do well and be praised. Oh and his perfectly feathered shoulder-length blond hair.

Every so often I would come back to my desk to find a drawing that 7 had made and secretly deposited. Some were signed by the whole class and some by just 7. All had horrible spelling errors but all found their way to the side of my desk or the closet. Except the one that was wishing me Happy Birthday in late May. But the one he had made me on my actual birthday was there, taped up proudly to give 7 back the same respect he showed and the praise he had figured out his own way to get.

#6

A new kind of patience was born with 6. One that would prove weak without any strategies to help fortify it. 6 could ask a question like a pro. In fact, she looked at the details so much that she will either become a forensic scientist, a lawyer, or a crazy old lady asking questions of the pigeons in the park. She definitely wins the prize for Longest Time Spent Asking a Question (and gets an honorable mention for Getting the Teacher to Repeat What Has Already Been Stated, Restated, and Written Step-by-Step on the Board). This is how most conversations with 6 went by the end of the year:

6 raises hand.
Miss Corday bides as much time as possible hoping 6 will figure out the answer on her own or that someone else will as the same question more concisely.

If plan A fails: Miss Corday : Yes, 6
6 : Um... (fidget, fidget)well (looks up and takes a few deep breaths) ...I kind of have a question for you (drops her pencil)
Miss Corday: (Keeps steady eye contact in case 6 dares to reciprocate): Yes, well, your hand was up (nicest voice possible)
6 (starts fidgeting with anything that is in her hand, her fingers, her shirt etc. until accidentally knocking something over, bends down to get it, while looking up, then down, then up, then down): Um, well...I was wondering...um, well, actually I have two questions. One. Do we have to answer the journal question at the end of the assignment?
Miss Corday: Well that's why I explained what the question was, wrote all the steps on the board and then we brainstormed how to start as a class.
6: Oh yeah....well.....um.... Just making sure. And my second question is.......What does it exactly mean when it says (points at the page) 'Describe the character's actions'?
Miss Corday: What do you think it means?
6: Well, um, I guess... I mean to say...well I'm not entirely sure... maybe it might mean that I have to write down, or kind of describe, like... what the character is maybe kind of doing in the story?
Miss Corday: You got it.
6 (relieved): Okay. Just making sure.


This is not in the least bit an exaggeration and it would occur at least 3 times a day. My problem is I never really figured out a strategy to deal with it. Toward the end, sometimes I would say "6 see if you can figure this one out on your own," and she would nod and then when I would check in she usually would still have some clarifying question. Another one that I wondered about for anxiety or maybe just confidence. Once she had the confidence she usually provided the most complete and correct answers out of the class. She was definitely on the higher end academically even though the description I offered may have painted a completely different picture. I have one of her twin brothers next year, so I will be interested/more prepared if he comes in with the same mannerisms. Even though it might not seem it, I will miss her awkward exchanges and thoughtful, yet flustered, ways.

#4

"He will come up to your desk making alien noises for no reason." That was the comment his fourth grade teacher left me to ponder over the summer. I figured I would have no problem. Things like that  make me happy. Usually those students are my favorites (not that I have favorites). He was never really able to participate in class enough to become one of the beat-of-his-own-drum favorites though. It seemed he was resigned to just getting by. Whenever I spoke to his mother about it, it was always one of two excuses:

"He has really bad allergies, I'll put him on some medicine." OR
"His allergy medicine is making him groggy, I'll take him off the medicine."

I would say that 90% of the time, 4 was off in his own world, staring off into space. His written work did not show a marked difference. Although he usually had the idea, and often understood on a deeper level, his answers were always bare-boned and disappointing. He had some great friends in the class, but most of the connections related to video games. Many times when he would speak he would scrunch his shoulders up, rub his hands together like he had some master plan, and speak in an almost inaudible squeaky voice. Whenever designing something to represent himself, or writing anything about his likes, he always listed or drew every video game system known to 10 year old America: Wii, PS2, PS3, Nintendo DS, XBox.

That is who he saw himself as. If I had 4 again in my class, I would try to get him to identify with something real. I would try to get him to care about his work or at least have him redo the work I was disappointed in. I know that next year, another goal will be to not let kids get away with slacking off. No matter how many excuses they have. I will miss the amazingly sweet moments that 4 had when he let his guard down and was able to be himself.

#3

In my first year teaching, I had quite a few kids that I wished I had known better. It being my first year, I saw them as more of a blob than as 21 individual kids who all wanted a connection with me. There would have been many days that year that I would not have spoken directly with all of them. With each passing year, the number of kids that I wish I had known better goes down. This is mostly just a natural progression, of becoming more comfortable as a teacher, of knowing how to interact with fifth graders better, but mostly of seeing each kid as unique in academics AND personality. This adds 20+ different levels of what to think about, how to teach best, and where to go next; a level for each individual child. While this makes teaching that much more complicated and frustrating, it must also make the quality of education improve.

All of that to say that 3 is someone that I wish I had had more time to get to know. I wish I had tried to speak to her daily, and maybe I did a better job than I think. She was one of the louder kids, especially at snack time, telling some story or quizzing kids on the upcoming test material. Using words that were way above a fifth grade level as if she had used them a hundred times before. With her "accomodative eye dysfunction" her reading level and, therefore, grades, were much lower than one would expect after hearing her fluent descriptions of the transport system in a plant. I found out about halfway through the year that this meant that when she went from looking up at the board to looking down at her paper it took one of her eyes 8 seconds to adjust. Imagine how much I had to think about my instruction now for just one kid! 8 seconds of lag time might not sound like much but after this sentence look down at the T on your keyboard and count 8 seconds --when you get to 8 that is when her right eye would finally get that T into focus. That is when she could finally start reading along or looking for the answer that her teacher needed and by the time she found it, we could already be onto the next question - there's a lot of standards to cover by the time the MCAS comes, you know! So I had to plan lessons so that we did a big chunk together on the board or as a discussion and then when we were in the book, we stayed there for another big chunk. Even though I did not feel like I made a grand connection with 3, she did remind me how much each individual kid needs to be considered when designing instruction. She also reminds me of how important it is to try to make a verbal connection with each kid every day. I will miss her strong- willed ways and her well stated opinions.

#2

I was told by his fourth grade teacher that his parents "just wanted him to be able to be himself" and that they didn't want him to get in trouble for being a little hyper or crazy sometimes. So I wasn't sure what to expect from him.

The year started and he was definitely one of the most spirited in the class. Making inane jokes, falling out of his chair, answering questions incorrectly a little too often and a little too zanily, and every time pausing like a veteran stand-up for the laughter that might or might not come. Usually, his comments caused the kids to look at me to see if they should laugh, followed by my response: the double eyebrow raise with a partial smile to show that he wasn't being bad - just needed to relax. He would then half smile and look down, "Sorry Miss Corday." A few times I tried to make it into an inside joke by telling him, "this is not the '2' Show." However, with 2 a joke never ends: "Now can it be the 2 show?" every half an hour.

Some outside psychological testing showed that he has some memory/processing problems, which could explain his inability to put his knowledge down into words.  I will miss 2's eagerness to do well and his ability brighten the room with one comment and smile.

#1

It felt as though her mother was questioning the basis of my very existence at the beginning of the year. Though, I am just realizing that there was never really anything specific said. Really it was just the appearance of scrutiny: lists made, one eyebrow raised, head tilted to look down at me, portfolios created, meetings made, secret meetings made, and finally nothing.

I was terrified of this tall, blond, brilliant and seemingly perfect student I had in my class. With a mom like that, she was going to give me attitude, I just knew it. But she didn't. Not once. Yes, she got many As and even more A pluses. But I started to realize that it wasn't for a lack of a challenge. It was because she pushes herself and attends to the minutia of each assignment, each friendship, each interest in her life. Part of that was a mild OCD or anxiety, it seemed, but mostly it was that somehow inside her she has this golden core. She just wants to do right, and do well, and she smiles all the time. She was a little lost in my room at the beginning of the year without many close friends, but found her place and it was one of the most important in the group, for she had great ideas and took pride in them, she corrected people or improved on comments without seeming bossy or egotistic, and she was nice to everyone unless they had wronged her in some way. I will miss her tremendously.

List of things I can do today (on the first day of summer):

1. Focus only on ME - step one: get a fungus colored pedicure because you don't have to be a role model anymore.
2. Start a blog to record most secret thoughts and then read it over and over.
3. Sit in my towel after showering at (what time is it again? Oh yeah...) 12:30 and not feel the least bit like I could be correcting, organizing, or planning instead.
4. Watch my old favorites on YouTube.
5. Actually browse YouTube and not just TeacherTube.
6. Go outside without a whistle or first aide kit (famous last words, I know).
7. Shout profanities.
8. Read a book without having to stop to explain meanings of words or ask predicting/inferring questions.
9. Breathe.