PSA from your child's (possible) future teacher

Yes, I chose this profession.  Well, actually, it chose me, but only another teacher understands the impact of that statement.

Yes, I get multiple breaks within my "work year."  And yes, that is a "perk" of my profession.  However, had you been surrounded by the walking hormones I shared my day with today, you would understand the requirement of said breaks in order to keep teachers from locking their students in small closets.  I equate it to an animal mother eating her young.

Yes, I work in one of the best schools in Cobb County.  Am I thankful for the job?  Absolutely.  Do I love my kids?  97.5% get unfaltering affection. Do I have abundant parental involvement?  To a fault.  Do my kids perform well on standardized tests?  Who gives a rat's patootie?!  (But yes, they do.)

Yes, God has blessed me with the ability to deal with 8th graders when even their own parents want nothing to do with them.  Yes, I have an exorbitant amount of patience, which is currently wearing very thin.  However, that does not mean that parents shouldn't have rules.

So here are the top 10 rules for parents of middle school students.

1) Your kids need pencils.  Nice wooden ones.  Oh, and paper.  Your job is to provide these things... Not mine.  It is also unfair for your kid to depend on his charm to get supplies from classmates.  Buy school supplies.

2)  Your kid has homework.  Every night.  Yes, it may even be 2 hours of homework.  And flipping flash cards or studying (not reading) notes is homework.  Every.  Night.

3)  Along the same lines, do not go into a parent meeting with ,"He tells me he is doing his homework.  I mean, he's just in his room (with his cell phone and xBox)... And I never check on him. But he says he's doing it."  Check on the homework.  Often.  My little people are still very naive and trustworthy, but I still scan homework as needed.  Do it.

4)  A personal life is integral to a middle schooler's existence.  However, charm and wit will not pay the bills.  There has to be a balance.  Encourage sports and friendships, but equally enforce the importance of grades.

5)  Be informed.  When I don't know something is going on with my own children, I know it is my fault.  For not reading the newsletter or checking the school website.  You birthed your children.  It is your job to check on their assignments.  Teachers have around 175 students to keep track of while at work.  We don't mind keeping track of what they do at school.  In our realm.  But if we take the time to schlep through the papers, enter the grades, provide the test retakes, enter the grades, and update the blog, you need to make it part of your day to help your child follow up.  It is a symbiotic relationship.

6) Get the facts.  I'll let you use your imagination on that one.

7) Talk to your kids.  I know most parents do.  But ask about their day.  Ask about their friends.  Ask about their teachers.  Even when you get the usual, "nothing," it's still important to ask what your child learned that day.  Not only does it keep you informed on what's happening at school; it also allows your kid the chance to share (ie. restate, teach, or summarize) what was learned at school.

8)  Realize that the teacher is not the enemy.  I promise.  So please don't come in to meet with her in attack mode.  I spend more time than you care to know listening to other teachers talk about how much they do care.  I sometimes find myself wishing I didn't care as much as I do.  There are times when some students and their problems keep me awake at night.  I promise.  And I know I am not in the minority.

9) Please, in the name of all that is holy, stop giving excuses for your kid.  I know every kid has his quirks or issues.  Trust me ... I get it.  But giving excuses for every action (or lack of action) only gives your child more power.  If he didn't do his homework, make him own it.  If she didn't study for a test or didn't manage her time wisely, let her suffer the consequence.  Providing an excuse for every wrong-doing only makes the slacking easier.  My favorite students are the ones who greet me with a straight-up, "Mrs. Morris, I didn't study.  The new Call of Duty came out Nd I played all night."  I also like, "Mrs. Morris, I went to the Miley Cyrus concert last night and didn't study."  I can't even get mad if she says it was worth the F on the test.  Because it was honest.

10) Your kid is my kid.  I never forget that your kid is the center of your world, just as I hope my little people have teachers who feel the same.  I call them my "kids," much to my own offsprings' chagrin, because I spend more time with them than their parents do during the school year.  I know what they want from life because I ask.  I don't care if they like me as much as I like them; I have plenty of friends.  I show them respect because I expect the same from them.  I want them to be successful.  I want them to achieve.  I want them to hand friends.  I want them to be happy.  Well, as happy as a hormonal 8th grader can be.  But I will not lower my standards to make life easier.  And please don't ask me to.

As we embark on our final 2 days before Spring Break, I will try to hold back the tears behind my lids caused by stress.  I will hold me tongue when your child doesn't behave exactly as I expect.  I will contain my angst when he refuses to sat in his area, get to class on time, or keep his hands to himself.

And I will pray that after Spring Break, the kids will return with the attitude to make it through the rest of the year.  Because high school is coming.  And then the real world.  And there are not many second chances in the real world.  There are no IEPs or accommodations.  So be prepared and prepare your child for the real world.  Do it.  It's your job as a parent.

Wow ... you must be so patient ...

... Nope... Just crazy.

When people ask me what I do and I tell them I'm a teacher, they always act shocked.

"Oh, bless you."
"I could never do that."
"That takes a calling."
"I can't imagine dealing with other people's kids all day long."

And then I tell them I teach middle school, and they're all,

"Wow, how do you handle the attitude?"
"You must be asking for punishment."
"Middle schoolers are so disrespectful; how do you handle them?"

And then I mention that I teach special ed 8th graders.

And I contain my giggle as their faces contort and twist into expressions of shock and disgust.

Seriously, people, it's not that bad.  The horrors and nightmares you have contructed in your mind are nothing like my days.  Well, not entirely.

If anything, the kids are the reason I stay in teaching.  And the super awesome people I work with.

So why do I do it?  In these days of crappy health care, budget cuts, growing class sizes, and more focus on test scores, why do I stay in the classroom?

Trust me, I hear this question almost as often as I see the contortion in faces.

Most days, if you ask me, I can't come up with a reason right away.  My reasons are difficult to put into words.  Especially is you ask me on a day when I've had meetings, essays to grade, and parent phone calls to return.  Especially if you ask me after my small group language arts class which, 4 days out of 5, feels like a 3-ring circus.  Especially if you ask me after a lesson that I have spent hours writing fails miserably because of lack of interest or behavior problems in the classroom.

But there are glimmers in a day ... moments of enlightenment ... and I am reminded ... reminded of what brought me to teaching.

"Just enjoy your kiddos."

After working on some lesson plans this morning, running a load of towels, making all the beds, and emptying the trash, I texted Tim to get my Honey-Do list for the day.  So rarely do I have the chance to ask him if he needs anything during the day.  Even more rarely does he require my services -- he's so self-sufficient, after all.   Alas, I asked, "Anything you need me to do today?"

His response was priceless.

"Just enjoy your kiddos."

He makes my heart gush.

After sending him a cute little emoticon blowing a kiss, I started thinking about how times have changed.  Not so long ago I would pay to have some time alone.  Some time to sit and think.  Some time to read.  There have been times in the not-so-distant past that I have considered hijacking my children -- kidnapping them and stealing them-- rescuing them, even-- from their lives.  Just last week, among the snow and ice, I wished for a few more stolen moments with the "babies" inside my kids.  While we grunted and moaned our way through dressing for the snow (Good Lord, how do Northerners do that all the time?!) ... while Tim and I barked orders to "Hold your sleeve!" or "Put on your wool socks!" followed with screams of "Yes, you do need two pairs of socks!" and "That's a stupid question -- of course you need a hat!"... I still felt myself wanting it to slow down.  I don't necessarily want time to slow down to the pace of a turtle ... or the pace at which Tanner ties his shoes ... but I just want a little more time to enjoy some of these moments that are swooshing past at lightning speed.

Let me give you an example.

As a child, my parents took my brother and I to see the Ringling Brothers Circus every year.  It is one of the many things that my parents did that, quite honestly, Josh and I took for granted.  As we prepared to take our brood to the circus last night, I realized that we have so few chances like this.  I caught myself getting annoyed as Tanner pouted his way through the CNN Center because he was hungry.  I was flustered that Kendall wouldn't hold my hand and, instead, wanted to hold Jack's hand (Jack is five ... so don't start worrying about that yet!)  During the intermission, I was miffed that Kendall kept asking, "When is this gonna be over?"

Then, I was annoyed with myself.  For being annoyed.

In order to block out the guilt I felt while watching the elephants doing their little dances (Yes, I've read Water For Elephants), I began reflecting on how much of my time with my children is spent wishing for that particular moment to be over.  The whining, the arguing, the fighting, the incessant complaining.  I wish for it all to end as soon as it begins.  But just as I wish for that time to speed up, the other moments-- the hugs, the smiles, the laughter-- are also speeding by.

I recently read a fellow blogger  (Yes, I still consider myself a "fellow" though I haven't blogged in, like, a year.) who posted on this exact phenomenon and how wishing for the bad times to pass (and then feeling guilty about it) have led moms to compete so much.  I constantly find myself now, when other mom friends unload about their bedtime battles or their potty training woes, repeating her mantra, "This is normal."

And then I follow it up with, "This too shall pass."

Meant to be a promise of encouragement, it is also a warning.  A warning that, yes, your child will eventually want you to sleep in your own bed without her ...  and you will miss feeling that close.  A warning that, yes, your son will eventually stop wearing diapers ...  and he'll also stop wearing those cute little jon jons and will, instead, ask for shirts with skulls and such.  A warning that, yes, your house will be very quiet one day soon as your children play outside in the snow without you ... and you'll wish they still wanted you to be part of their clique.

And this is normal.

So I'll go enjoy my kiddos for now -- while they want to help make dinner.

Favorite Photo Friday

Gymnastics Performance May 2013

Love.  Love.  Love.  We've been trying to find something that both kids enjoy (that doesn't blow the budget!) and that they are both good at.  Gymnastics is it.  While I had hoped tumbling would be a transition to cheerleading for K, she seems to really like just tumbling.  Tanner is a natural too ... he is so strong.  I was a proud momma watching them smile with their trophies. :)