cafeteria crisis

My second week in fourth grade comes to a close. This week I taught all the math lessons (bar graphs to line plots) and some of the social studies (Pennsylvania) and the read aloud on the carpet (James and the Giant Peach).

Spending a day with 24 fourth graders, you really get to know them. It's kind of like living together. But how well do you really know someone until you eat with them? This week I made a point of investigating just what's going down in that little cafeteria tucked under the stairs on the first floor. What are the kids who wiggle and lack focus eating? What are the hand-raisers and alert kids eating? What are the Ritalin kids eating?

I am the class escourt. I bring them to art, then bring them back. Bring them to music, then bring them back. Bring them to gym, them bring them back. And since I bring them to lunch, I spend a minute and check out the scene.

Some things haven't changed; crabby lunch ladies, freezers with limited milk and ice cream choices, popular pizza days, melting bowls of red jell-o and that remarkable smell of bleach and meat. Some noticeable changes are a pretty good salad bar, a segregated peanut free table for those who are allergic and half a dozen hovering cafeteria "aides."

I wasn't surprised to see that those who brown bagged it had some good looking lunches- multigrain bread sandwiches with veggies, tiny thermos with soup, sticks of carrots, baggies of nuts and tupperware filled with fresh fruit. B, our wiggliest kid for whom a behavior plan was just inititiated, brought his lunch. But his mom packed a Lunchable inside a brown paper bag. B's lunch was a stack of crackers, cheddar cheese, salty ham and a Reeses Peanut Butter cup. M, one of the two Ritalin kids, eats only organic foods and enjoys organic applesauce, yogurt and a wrap.

However, the majority of the students buy lunch. No one visited the salad bar, instead trays were filled with a single hot dog and a cookie, greasy slice of pizza and a cookie, grilled cheese and a miniature bowl of jell-o. The landscape of these lunchers was a field of faded yellow trays and bland food choices: no greens, no reds, no grape, no peach, no pith, no pulp, no pits nor seeds.

Is this why we struggle after lunch through the beginning of language arts, why attention fades through guided reading? B is always worse after lunch while our healthy eaters seem to pick up steam. I can't help thinking about the documentary Supersize Me when Morgan Spurlock visits an elementary school cafeteria. I'd like to show the film in class. We've had a few discussions about McDonald's around my desk. I'm reading Fast Food Nation and it's a conversation piece. Some of the kids really understand how bad McDonald's food is for them. Something new for them to think about is the idea that McDonald's targets them with toys and playgrounds and clowns. This is the age when kids should become media savvy. They should be alert to the methods used by toy and candy companies that advertise during their Saturday morning and after-school cartoons. Students should be able to understand their power of choice. They will learn to resist the globalized corporate agenda and see the benefits of a locally grown and supported economy.

And now, slowly and quietly, I descend from my soapbox.

A week is a week is a week is a week

One week in the books. So far, I absolutely love it. I know all the kids' names, got the daily schedule down pat and work flawlessly with Mrs. P (almost like two cooks on a busy line opening drawers and sliding hot pans).

I'm given more autonomy then I expected; participating in IEP/behavioral plan meetings for B, parent conferences, Dibles reading placement tests and more. I jumped into this experience with a lot of energy and enthusiasm and I think that's why Mrs. P is treating me like partner.

I am trying to find my teaching personality, but it's hard. I taught a lesson on analogies and another on line plots this week; it was tough to break from the scripted structure of the lesson plan. The great challenge is engaging the kids and keeping it interesting while juggling the day dreamers and the talkers and the blank stares. It is an art and a science. I was at my best this week when reading from Jack Prelutsky and encouraging the class to clap a beat as I read. They really seemed to like that.

So today was a nice way to end things. Mrs. P and I took the class outside and handed out some popsicles. It was warm and clear on the recess field. Mrs. P, me and the 24, it was good bonding time. So interesting to see how the 24 break into groups, how they play and interact. We finished with a game of run-the-bases and then 4-square with no behavioral problems to speak of- my days leading aftercare at NFCS made this easy time.

Some things on my mind as I sit high in the sleep center:

-We have to rearrange some desks, some kids can't see the board, some talk too much, some talk too little

-Kids constantly ask 'what do I do now?' if they finish an assignment early. I need to find some things to 'do now'

-I find I am sitting up straight, smiling more and speaking more clearly than ever- in school and out

-I'm surprised how many of the boys like to draw, they draw on scraps of paper and in the margins of worksheets. They're pretty good at it, too

-One student on Ritalin, M, is really thin. Apparently there is a distinguishable slender appearance of young kids on the stuff as they lose appetite. M was the only kid who didn't want his popsicle. He seems to be in a haze, can't help but wonder how he acts without the meds. I couldn't get him to play with other kids when we went outside, but he did play with me when I shot a few hoops with him

-I can't play too much with the kids yet. Later, maybe

-I enjoy leading a grand conversation, it's amazing where they go. Several times this week I asked the class if they had any news or comments to report. My 8th grade history teacher used to start every class with this kind of discussion and I still remember it vividly. When I heard Mr. Slovanak died a few years I immediately thought of him leaning against the air-conditioner by the window, facing the class and asking 'Questions, comments, askionies?' Funny. I never shared anything. I kind of take note who is not sharing at these moments in this 4th grade. I want to key in on these guys. A recent chat led to conversation about Steve Earle the Crcodile Hunter who was killed recently by a stingray. Everyone seemed very comfortable with the death zeroing in instead on what exactly a sting ray looks like

-I already found myself in the classroom, he sits in the front row and is very thirsty all the time

-Our room clock still is not working. It drives the kids nuts not to know the time.

The first day school

It's never as bad as it is in my imagination. I did not oversleep. I did not wet my pants in front of the class. I did not get nauseous. I did not want to run away in horror.

At 9 a.m. sharp Mrs. P. and me blocked parents at the door and let our new students file into their classroom. Mrs. P. warned me about letting parents in the first day. She remembered years past when they would sit around the room, eat bagels and drink coffee while first day stuff was unraveling. Kids are nervous the first day and the experience should be theirs and theirs alone. So no parents.

I began my morning by introducing myself to each student, shaking hands and looking them directly in the eye. The first day, said Mrs. P., will be the easy day. Gee, then I can't wait for day two.

I know the names of all the students already- I thought this would take longer. It's amazing how much personality you can see in a kid after just a few hours. Adults are very guarded to show their true self and, in fact, kids become as guarded as puberty hits in sixth or seventh grade. Now they are very cute and enthusiastic and so willing to please. Hands shoot up to answer every question. Only two students seemed bothered when asked to describe their "I" collage in front of the class. Without prompt, the class applauded each speaker. It was touching. I wonder how long and to what extent they will continue to support one another.

I ended the day by reading from Jack Prelutsky (poetry a la Shel Silverstein) and encouraging the class to shout out the final rhyming word. Prelutsky's work has a great rhyming beat. I asked the students to tap a beat on their desks and I tried to keep pace as I read. Slower then faster then slower again.

Matthew, who is already labeled as a potential problem because of his lack of motivation and poor direction following skills, and I talked quickly about a few of Prelutsky's poems that are shaped like triangles and circles. He seemed very interested, engaged me with direct eye contact and still wanted to know why some of the lines didn't rhyme- even as school ended and all his classmates were walking out the door.

Matthew and Ben, who was reading a sci-fi book well above 4th-grade reading level, will need extra attention. Ben asked me about prehistoric sharks (megalodon) for a comic he is drawing during quiet time in class. I just did a quick Wikipedia search and wrote down several facts about the ancient sharks. I'm going to hand him the paper tomorrow and see what happens.

Duality

Wide-eyed student teachers meet wider-eyed fourth graders in front of classroom doors all over America on Tuesday. Count me in.

Setting up for classes this week at BC elementary was an intense 3-day learning experience. My cooperating teacher, Mrs. P., couldn't be any better. She's one of the few people I've met recently who talks a lot but also has good stuff to say. We've developed a nice repoire so far.

I've learned that competiton between teachers does exist and I should try to ignore it.

I've learned that support personnel; reading specialists, aides and special ed. teachers are the gold nuggets in the flowing stream of school.

I've learned that it's important to touch base with the third grade teachers of our fourth graders BUT don't put too much stock in what they say.

I've learned that assigning the right seat to elementary students is as complicated as a wedding seating chart full of dramatic family scenarios and crazy in-laws.

I've learned that less is more.

I've learned that I don't want to be the kind of teacher who calls a former student a "fucking asshole", something I heard from a third grade teacher on Thursday.

Most of all, I've learned that being a teacher is surreal. Blasts from the past materialize in the form of hallway smells and eerily familiar teacher faces and voices and huge, funky tractors like this one blocking a road in Deutschland