First grade is a learning process for me and will be for J.R. Here are my random thoughts about it all.
He has a desk -- oi! It's only the third day, and I've had to clean it out for him. He had four or five papers jammed in the corners of the desk all with different drawings on them.
He has three folders, one notebook (for spelling), one binder, one grammar notebook, and a pencil box shoved into his little desk. I sense confusion and disorganization this year.
So far, I've already had to thin out his materials in his pencil box. The simpler, the better.
We had to drive back to the school to get his homework folder, and then I had to tell him to turn in his homework from last night because he didn't do that this morning.
If you were to walk into his classroom, you might think he is out of control as he rolls around on his exercise ball/seat. However, if you know him, you realize that he is over-stimulated, and this is his way of calming down. This is how he puts the world back in order. I'm grateful his teacher is willing to let this happen in class.
I think all Kindergarten and First Grade teachers deserve an all-paid vacation just for surviving the first week.
Showing posts with label school. Show all posts
Showing posts with label school. Show all posts
Wednesday, August 24, 2011
Thursday, February 17, 2011
Teachers and Moms: what they need most
There is a huge difference between a teacher who doesn't have children and a teacher who does.
There is a difference between a teacher who has children and a teacher who has children who have struggled or still do (most parents have at least one) and are still raising them or they haven't been gone from home for too long. There just is. Personally, I prefer the latter, to the nth degree!
I have been a teacher without children. I was a child who did not struggle in school academically. Sure, I was a little socially awkward, but I had friends. I could read social cues. Sure, I had my disciplinary moments, but I never remember crying over homework until I was in at least middle school or high school, and even then, it was minor.
I have a college degree in elementary education. I feel that I got a really good education from a really reputable, good university. I taught for three years, and by the end of the three years, I felt like I was finally starting to get a hang of it all. I was in my element. My abilities to teach the curriculum were improving, and my empathy for my students were growing. It was hard to quit teaching because I felt myself improving and progressing so much, but I didn't realize that I was missing some very important qualities and skills -- the skills that are the difference in a good teacher and an excellent teacher.
Let me be honest and say that no matter how much you've worked with kids, if you are not a parent of one who has struggled, you're missing something in your teaching vision (unless you just have this skill, which I know of some who do). You just are. I speak from experience. I did not know what I lacked until the past two years.
I call it "vision" because until you've lived with it and seen it every day, you don't see what parents see. Try as you might, you don't have that empathy. How do I know? I didn't have it. I wanted to have it. I had sympathy and felt bad, but I still didn't get it. I think back on specific children that I taught that I wish I'd had the vision then. I wish I could feel what the parents were feeling.
J.R. has had some fabulous teachers and therapists, but I can tell you who obviously didn't get it and who did. His current teacher GETS IT. He is safe, secure and loved in her classroom. I feel that he is safe, secure, and loved in her classroom. She listens to me. I don't have to plead my son's case very hard. She's willing to try new things -- anything to help him succeed and feel successful. I feel like we are a team, and this is what moms need most: teammates. Not a boss; not a know-it-all; not a professor, A TEAM.
I never feel like she is the teacher taking control, telling me what works best because she has the degree: because she is the teacher. I KNOW I did that several times. I never hear, "but LeMira . . ." unless it's "but he's doing so well, and I just think the world of him."
For example, in recent weeks, I had been informed of a study* done a few years ago about the effectiveness of exercise balls replacing chairs in classrooms, especially for children with ADD, ADHD, and an ASD (autism spectrum disorder). At the parent/teacher conference last week, I mentioned it to J.R.'s teacher, and asked how she felt about me bringing one in for him. Not even hesitating she responded, "Absolutely. Let's try it." After one day of it, she wanted one for every student in her classroom. J.R. takes the ball with him to math and to his special ed classroom. Mrs. D. has the vision, and I love her for it.
Another teacher at my son's school who gets it is the librarian. She and I hit it off when we discovered that her oldest son struggled with the same things that J.R. has been struggling. Her son is twelve years older, but she has done so much. When I vented to her about homework and trying to figure out something that works, she immediately volunteered her services. For the last week, J.R. and I go to the library after school while she helps him with his homework. He won't fight with her like he does with me (because I'm the mom), and he does better for her. I help her daughter who is the same age as J.R. stay focused and answer her homework questions. It's sort of a trade-off, although I think I'm getting a better deal (I think I need to make her some cookies or take her to lunch. . . hmm. . .). This teacher has the vision.
I thank the Lord that He guided me to put my son in this charter school with teachers who get it. One day, if I ever go back to be a classroom teacher, I know that my vision will be different. I only hope that I will "get it," too.
*Here's a USA Today article written about one example: No Chairs, Students get the "Wiggles Out" on Exercise Balls. (If you want a copy of one of the research papers done on it, I can email it in PDF format to you, just let me know.)
There is a difference between a teacher who has children and a teacher who has children who have struggled or still do (most parents have at least one) and are still raising them or they haven't been gone from home for too long. There just is. Personally, I prefer the latter, to the nth degree!
I have been a teacher without children. I was a child who did not struggle in school academically. Sure, I was a little socially awkward, but I had friends. I could read social cues. Sure, I had my disciplinary moments, but I never remember crying over homework until I was in at least middle school or high school, and even then, it was minor.
I have a college degree in elementary education. I feel that I got a really good education from a really reputable, good university. I taught for three years, and by the end of the three years, I felt like I was finally starting to get a hang of it all. I was in my element. My abilities to teach the curriculum were improving, and my empathy for my students were growing. It was hard to quit teaching because I felt myself improving and progressing so much, but I didn't realize that I was missing some very important qualities and skills -- the skills that are the difference in a good teacher and an excellent teacher.
Let me be honest and say that no matter how much you've worked with kids, if you are not a parent of one who has struggled, you're missing something in your teaching vision (unless you just have this skill, which I know of some who do). You just are. I speak from experience. I did not know what I lacked until the past two years.
I call it "vision" because until you've lived with it and seen it every day, you don't see what parents see. Try as you might, you don't have that empathy. How do I know? I didn't have it. I wanted to have it. I had sympathy and felt bad, but I still didn't get it. I think back on specific children that I taught that I wish I'd had the vision then. I wish I could feel what the parents were feeling.
J.R. has had some fabulous teachers and therapists, but I can tell you who obviously didn't get it and who did. His current teacher GETS IT. He is safe, secure and loved in her classroom. I feel that he is safe, secure, and loved in her classroom. She listens to me. I don't have to plead my son's case very hard. She's willing to try new things -- anything to help him succeed and feel successful. I feel like we are a team, and this is what moms need most: teammates. Not a boss; not a know-it-all; not a professor, A TEAM.
I never feel like she is the teacher taking control, telling me what works best because she has the degree: because she is the teacher. I KNOW I did that several times. I never hear, "but LeMira . . ." unless it's "but he's doing so well, and I just think the world of him."
For example, in recent weeks, I had been informed of a study* done a few years ago about the effectiveness of exercise balls replacing chairs in classrooms, especially for children with ADD, ADHD, and an ASD (autism spectrum disorder). At the parent/teacher conference last week, I mentioned it to J.R.'s teacher, and asked how she felt about me bringing one in for him. Not even hesitating she responded, "Absolutely. Let's try it." After one day of it, she wanted one for every student in her classroom. J.R. takes the ball with him to math and to his special ed classroom. Mrs. D. has the vision, and I love her for it.
Another teacher at my son's school who gets it is the librarian. She and I hit it off when we discovered that her oldest son struggled with the same things that J.R. has been struggling. Her son is twelve years older, but she has done so much. When I vented to her about homework and trying to figure out something that works, she immediately volunteered her services. For the last week, J.R. and I go to the library after school while she helps him with his homework. He won't fight with her like he does with me (because I'm the mom), and he does better for her. I help her daughter who is the same age as J.R. stay focused and answer her homework questions. It's sort of a trade-off, although I think I'm getting a better deal (I think I need to make her some cookies or take her to lunch. . . hmm. . .). This teacher has the vision.
I thank the Lord that He guided me to put my son in this charter school with teachers who get it. One day, if I ever go back to be a classroom teacher, I know that my vision will be different. I only hope that I will "get it," too.
*Here's a USA Today article written about one example: No Chairs, Students get the "Wiggles Out" on Exercise Balls. (If you want a copy of one of the research papers done on it, I can email it in PDF format to you, just let me know.)
Sunday, January 9, 2011
Transition and Incentive
A post by LeMira
The first week back to school from the holiday break was hard, really hard. By Tuesday evening, I was ready to run screaming from my house and not come back. We just weren't getting along, J.R. and I, that is. His responses were mostly, "No," "I don't want to," "I don't like it," and "Grrrrr." (Yes, he kept growling at me.) Instead, I just screamed into a pillow.
After meltdown after meltdown (his then mine, then his again then mine again), I finally remembered: transition. Transitions are so hard, and they are something I should never forget because they will always be hard for him. At the beginning of the school year, I wrote about my son's anxiety transitioning to a new school with a new teacher. This time, the transition he was so worried about was having homework again.
The biggest problem is that he gets so fixated on not wanting to do homework, that he starts getting angry that he has to do it. His anger flows through everything because then he starts counting down the days until Friday (when he has no homework), and he takes it out on us. One little worry snowballs into something huge and affects everything.
Side-note: I was curious if it was just me (because sometimes it is), or if my son struggled at school this week. When I went to volunteer on Friday, I talked to his aide, and she said that she'd noticed he'd regressed in his math. Two weeks, that's all it has taken for him to regress. Do I think it's because he has a retention problem? No, it's all because of his anxiety and his fear of failure which leads to a lack of self-confidence (of course, that's ANOTHER post for another time). Basically, I was relieved just a little to hear that he struggled at school, too, because I wanted to make sure that it wasn't just me as the common factor, (not because I was happy he's struggling). I just need to know when it is across the board, you know?
By Wednesday morning, I knew that something had to change. We started doing reading and speech in the morning before school and math and spelling after school. He only has "two homework" (as he would say) after school now. Breaking up the workload has a made a wonderful difference.
After school that same day, he and I were waiting to get a prescription filled and were wandering around the store. He found the ONE loud toy on clearance and immediately began his whining and begging for the "electric" guitar. At that point, I just wanted to give in and not deal with the tantrum, but then I had an epiphany. I could make him earn it. Yes, I'd buy it (I couldn't go back later because the store is closing its doors in a few days), but then I'd make him work for it.
I started a point system. Each day he can earn points for doing his chores and homework with a good attitude, being happy when playing games, and just following directions. He loses points by yelling, screaming, or talking back to mom and dad. At the end of the day, he earns a sticker for every five points he earns. Each day is a new day, and we start back at zero points. I keep the points on a whiteboard on the fridge so I can easily put them up and wipe them off. When he earns 20 stickers, I'll take the guitar off the top of the fridge, and it's his. In the end, he'll earn a total of 100 points.
At first I thought it would take about two weeks for him to adjust and transition, but I've realized that it's taken a little less. Since adding the incentive, he's come a long way. He has something to work for, and I'm glad it's successful so far.
When I bought the guitar, I rationalized that bribery was okay. After thinking about it more, though, I realize that we all need motivation, and we all work harder when we see results. He's at an age where he's still learning to control his emotions and reactions and learning appropriate behavior, and he apparently needs an incentive. This is a good thing for something he wants. I don't feel bad at all because he's earning it.
The first week back to school from the holiday break was hard, really hard. By Tuesday evening, I was ready to run screaming from my house and not come back. We just weren't getting along, J.R. and I, that is. His responses were mostly, "No," "I don't want to," "I don't like it," and "Grrrrr." (Yes, he kept growling at me.) Instead, I just screamed into a pillow.
After meltdown after meltdown (his then mine, then his again then mine again), I finally remembered: transition. Transitions are so hard, and they are something I should never forget because they will always be hard for him. At the beginning of the school year, I wrote about my son's anxiety transitioning to a new school with a new teacher. This time, the transition he was so worried about was having homework again.
The biggest problem is that he gets so fixated on not wanting to do homework, that he starts getting angry that he has to do it. His anger flows through everything because then he starts counting down the days until Friday (when he has no homework), and he takes it out on us. One little worry snowballs into something huge and affects everything.
Side-note: I was curious if it was just me (because sometimes it is), or if my son struggled at school this week. When I went to volunteer on Friday, I talked to his aide, and she said that she'd noticed he'd regressed in his math. Two weeks, that's all it has taken for him to regress. Do I think it's because he has a retention problem? No, it's all because of his anxiety and his fear of failure which leads to a lack of self-confidence (of course, that's ANOTHER post for another time). Basically, I was relieved just a little to hear that he struggled at school, too, because I wanted to make sure that it wasn't just me as the common factor, (not because I was happy he's struggling). I just need to know when it is across the board, you know?
By Wednesday morning, I knew that something had to change. We started doing reading and speech in the morning before school and math and spelling after school. He only has "two homework" (as he would say) after school now. Breaking up the workload has a made a wonderful difference.
After school that same day, he and I were waiting to get a prescription filled and were wandering around the store. He found the ONE loud toy on clearance and immediately began his whining and begging for the "electric" guitar. At that point, I just wanted to give in and not deal with the tantrum, but then I had an epiphany. I could make him earn it. Yes, I'd buy it (I couldn't go back later because the store is closing its doors in a few days), but then I'd make him work for it.
I started a point system. Each day he can earn points for doing his chores and homework with a good attitude, being happy when playing games, and just following directions. He loses points by yelling, screaming, or talking back to mom and dad. At the end of the day, he earns a sticker for every five points he earns. Each day is a new day, and we start back at zero points. I keep the points on a whiteboard on the fridge so I can easily put them up and wipe them off. When he earns 20 stickers, I'll take the guitar off the top of the fridge, and it's his. In the end, he'll earn a total of 100 points.
At first I thought it would take about two weeks for him to adjust and transition, but I've realized that it's taken a little less. Since adding the incentive, he's come a long way. He has something to work for, and I'm glad it's successful so far.
When I bought the guitar, I rationalized that bribery was okay. After thinking about it more, though, I realize that we all need motivation, and we all work harder when we see results. He's at an age where he's still learning to control his emotions and reactions and learning appropriate behavior, and he apparently needs an incentive. This is a good thing for something he wants. I don't feel bad at all because he's earning it.
Thursday, November 11, 2010
Homework
A Post By LeMira
I decided to keep J.R. in Kindergarten this year due to his social and language delays. So far, I feel very good about it. I also chose to put him in a charter school. Overall, I'm happy with that decision, although there are some major disadvantages there (i.e., the lack of speech therapy that he really needs). The biggest advantages are that he is able to go to first grade for math, and his Kindergarten teacher tries really hard to help him with his math page each day afterward. She really makes an effort to help him out and give him individualized attention. J.R. was doing Kindergarten math, but it was too easy for him. Homework lasted five minutes, which I think isn't bad for Kindergarten; however, he was getting nothing out of it. First Grade math seems to be on his instructional level, which all teachers know is exactly where you want them to be.
(Quick lesson in teacher lingo. There are three basic levels when it comes to a student's learning.
Too Hard= Frustration Level. At this level, you know you need to take a step back. The child is so frustrated and confused that absolutely no learning is happening.
Just Right = Instructional Level. The Instructional Level is the one where the child is learning and it may seem a little hard, but with some practice it becomes easy. Homework and classroom work should be at the instructional level.
Easy= Independent Level. Kids should be reading books at home at the Independent Level. Kids are who being taught too much at this level are bored with school, usually. You find most of your "troublemakers" at school are the ones stuck in the frustration and independent levels.)
Sooo. . . back to J.R. Once he started bringing home First Grade work, there was a huge jump in how long it took him to do homework. We spend at least 30 minutes, four days a week, doing homework. As a teacher, I might think this means it's at a frustration level because a First Grader or Kindergartner should be spending roughly 10-15 minutes a night on homework, not 30. The thing is, as his parent, I know this is just right for him. Why does it take so long? He doesn't understand the instructions or what the problem is asking. It's his language delay. It takes me three to five attempts to explain the problem/instructions just the right way so he will understand. Perhaps one day I will find that "one way," but I don't think I'm catching on.
When I first told J.R.'s teacher about his homework, she was surprised at how long we were spending. . . until I explained why. She understood completely because she experiences the same type of thing with him in class. The biggest difference is that he doesn't fight her. He always fights me. Always. Every day I hear, "I can't do this. It's frustrating." Without fail, I will hear that phrase at least once (if I'm lucky it's only once.) I admit that I'm glad that he chooses to fight me and not his teachers, but some days I can't hold back, and I join the fight; which only makes it worse. The thing is, I know that I get to look forward to this for the next twelve years.
I decided to keep J.R. in Kindergarten this year due to his social and language delays. So far, I feel very good about it. I also chose to put him in a charter school. Overall, I'm happy with that decision, although there are some major disadvantages there (i.e., the lack of speech therapy that he really needs). The biggest advantages are that he is able to go to first grade for math, and his Kindergarten teacher tries really hard to help him with his math page each day afterward. She really makes an effort to help him out and give him individualized attention. J.R. was doing Kindergarten math, but it was too easy for him. Homework lasted five minutes, which I think isn't bad for Kindergarten; however, he was getting nothing out of it. First Grade math seems to be on his instructional level, which all teachers know is exactly where you want them to be.
(Quick lesson in teacher lingo. There are three basic levels when it comes to a student's learning.
Too Hard= Frustration Level. At this level, you know you need to take a step back. The child is so frustrated and confused that absolutely no learning is happening.
Just Right = Instructional Level. The Instructional Level is the one where the child is learning and it may seem a little hard, but with some practice it becomes easy. Homework and classroom work should be at the instructional level.
Easy= Independent Level. Kids should be reading books at home at the Independent Level. Kids are who being taught too much at this level are bored with school, usually. You find most of your "troublemakers" at school are the ones stuck in the frustration and independent levels.)
Sooo. . . back to J.R. Once he started bringing home First Grade work, there was a huge jump in how long it took him to do homework. We spend at least 30 minutes, four days a week, doing homework. As a teacher, I might think this means it's at a frustration level because a First Grader or Kindergartner should be spending roughly 10-15 minutes a night on homework, not 30. The thing is, as his parent, I know this is just right for him. Why does it take so long? He doesn't understand the instructions or what the problem is asking. It's his language delay. It takes me three to five attempts to explain the problem/instructions just the right way so he will understand. Perhaps one day I will find that "one way," but I don't think I'm catching on.
When I first told J.R.'s teacher about his homework, she was surprised at how long we were spending. . . until I explained why. She understood completely because she experiences the same type of thing with him in class. The biggest difference is that he doesn't fight her. He always fights me. Always. Every day I hear, "I can't do this. It's frustrating." Without fail, I will hear that phrase at least once (if I'm lucky it's only once.) I admit that I'm glad that he chooses to fight me and not his teachers, but some days I can't hold back, and I join the fight; which only makes it worse. The thing is, I know that I get to look forward to this for the next twelve years.
Thursday, August 19, 2010
School is Almost in Session
Last spring, as the end of school approached, I started to dread the summer. For a while, I counted down the days until school. Until today, I thought I was the only one in my household doing that.
The first week of July, I noticed that Jackson started getting very clingy. He watched everywhere I went, asked at least three times if I was going to "wait right there," and panicked if I left the room. This past Sunday as we were getting ready to go to church, he said to me, "Mom, you can't leave Primary [the children's class]." I worried and worried about him. Separation Anxiety at six years old? What was going on?
Yesterday I took him to his new school to meet his teacher. As we climbed into the car, in a timid voice, Jackson stated, "Mom we have 1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9-10-11 days until school. I don't want to go to school." It hit me then. How could I have missed this? How could I think my child, the one who remembers dates like I remember how many cookies are left, had forgotten about school? His anxiety about the new school year has been going on since the last day of school in May. He has been worried all summer long.
Suddenly, I'm panicking inside, too. Last year Jackson attended Transitional Kindergarten (also known as Special Kindergarten) - basically Kindergarten at a slower pace. He excelled there. This year I chose to keep him in Kindergarten because of his social skills - or lack thereof. I debated and debated about where to send him to school, and I finally decided on a local charter school. Fewer students=smaller class sizes, right? I found out there are 30 students registered in his Kindergarten class. 30, really? In a Kindergarten class? Yeah, Panic Attack. The school is trying to recruit more students to hire another teacher or encourage some to go to the 3-day class. Jackson needs and is ready for the 5 day/all day Kindergarten.
Over the last few days, I've been fretting and fretting about how he will handle school. Will he be so lost that he hates it everyday? Will he be brave enough to ask what he doesn't know? Will he use the bathroom or have accidents (he has an irrational fear of new toilets)? How many tears will he cry? Will he learn to make friends, or will they shun him? What will he do without me?
There, I said it. I think he needs me. I can't let go. I want to let go, but can't. How do I do this? Jackson needs advanced warning. School registration was chaotic with parents and kids noisily chatting in small, crowded spaces; and so he didn't get a clear idea of the school. I have a few ideas.
The first week of July, I noticed that Jackson started getting very clingy. He watched everywhere I went, asked at least three times if I was going to "wait right there," and panicked if I left the room. This past Sunday as we were getting ready to go to church, he said to me, "Mom, you can't leave Primary [the children's class]." I worried and worried about him. Separation Anxiety at six years old? What was going on?
Yesterday I took him to his new school to meet his teacher. As we climbed into the car, in a timid voice, Jackson stated, "Mom we have 1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9-10-11 days until school. I don't want to go to school." It hit me then. How could I have missed this? How could I think my child, the one who remembers dates like I remember how many cookies are left, had forgotten about school? His anxiety about the new school year has been going on since the last day of school in May. He has been worried all summer long.
Suddenly, I'm panicking inside, too. Last year Jackson attended Transitional Kindergarten (also known as Special Kindergarten) - basically Kindergarten at a slower pace. He excelled there. This year I chose to keep him in Kindergarten because of his social skills - or lack thereof. I debated and debated about where to send him to school, and I finally decided on a local charter school. Fewer students=smaller class sizes, right? I found out there are 30 students registered in his Kindergarten class. 30, really? In a Kindergarten class? Yeah, Panic Attack. The school is trying to recruit more students to hire another teacher or encourage some to go to the 3-day class. Jackson needs and is ready for the 5 day/all day Kindergarten.
Over the last few days, I've been fretting and fretting about how he will handle school. Will he be so lost that he hates it everyday? Will he be brave enough to ask what he doesn't know? Will he use the bathroom or have accidents (he has an irrational fear of new toilets)? How many tears will he cry? Will he learn to make friends, or will they shun him? What will he do without me?
There, I said it. I think he needs me. I can't let go. I want to let go, but can't. How do I do this? Jackson needs advanced warning. School registration was chaotic with parents and kids noisily chatting in small, crowded spaces; and so he didn't get a clear idea of the school. I have a few ideas.
- I'm going to call the school next week after it's started for the other grades and ask to take him around the school to see everything.
- Go to the bathroom and flush the toilet; let him practice going by himself.
- Teach him what he needs to do if he has to go to the bathroom, get a drink, etc.
- Remind him to take deep breaths when he's frustrated and perhaps teach him to squeeze the table or his feet if he is frustrated (usually he squeezes my hand hard to get the deep sensory stimulation that he needs).
- Tell him that I love him and that he will be okay, and that it will be fun!
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