Babbles and Confidence

It's the start of spring and that awesome time of year when my students begin to "blossom". I feel relieved this month; my students are finally showing progress. At the same time, I'm finding that I've left some holes in my teaching OR that my students have not fully grasped a skill OR that they "forgot" OR... all of the above.

My students, English Language Learners, have varying levels of English proficiency. The typical reading or math lesson takes us double (and triple) time; I need to pre-teach vocabulary, develop prior knowledge, and spend lots of time clarifying text. I can't get through any kind of lesson without stopping often to make sure my kids are "getting it". We're often weeks behind the other classes.

So this week, during a mini-lesson on alliteration, and after we looked at (and played with) several examples from authentic text and lots of tongue-twisters and trabalenguas in Spanish, I stopped to review the difference between sounds and letters. I wrote "Cassy catches coffee quickly in a cardboard cup" on the board, and asked the class -

"What do you notice about this sentence?" No reaction. (OK, I'll ask it in a different way.)

"CCCassy cccatches cccoffee qqqquickly in a cccardboard cccup. Do you hear anything interesting?"

Blank stares. (That's OK, I'll do "wait time".) Five seconds, ten... fif-

"I know!" one of my buddies calls out. "They all have the same letters!"

"And those letters are...?" I prompt.

Crickets chirp. Five seconds, ten...

Someone's raising her hand - YES! "Tell me charming lady! What do you see? What do you hear?"

"The alphabet!" with a huge smile on her face.

"The alphabet. Yes, the alphabet." (Well, no, that's not what I was asking, but I'll go with it, see if it gets us where we need to go.) "The alphabet has two kinds of letters, and those letters have different kinds of sounds. Can anyone tell me what kinds of letters are in the alphabet?"

Sssshhhhhh. (Geez kids, now you're quiet?)

A hand shoots up. "Yes sir! What kinds of letters are in the alphabet?"

"Upper ones and lower ones!"

"Well... " (I don't want to discourage him, but - )

"Small ones and big ones!" he tries again.

Oh no. Really? (My face is probably changing now. I. MUST. REMAIN. CALM.)

One of my "top" reading group kids raises his hand. Aww. I bet he was waiting to give his classmates a chance. "Babbles," he says.

"Babbles?" I ask. "Babbles?" I repeat. I don't get it.

Another hand waves. I call on him, silently hoping the fire drill will go off.

"And confidence. Babbles and confidence."

Yep. Babbles and confidence.

Stand Up... I'll Help You

Last Thursday morning, as I walked my class in to the school, I tripped and fell on the sidewalk.  It was one of those slow-motion knee, to hip, to elbow falls that took forever to finish. I found myself laying on my side, on the walkway, the blue sky above and morning noises all around me. As I lay there, I couldn't help thinking "Oh my God! How many people just saw that?" I wanted to disappear!

As I shook my head in disbelief (I have just FALLEN!) and tried to hoist myself back up, my students all of a sudden surrounded me, like a wall. It was like they were protecting me from the others - the other kids, the parents, the teachers! One of the boys stood in front of me, set his feet firmly apart, and extended his hands to me, saying, "OK miss, venga. Párese... yo la ayudo." (OK miss, come on now. Stand up... I'll help you.) He actually stood firmly enough that I was able to lift myself up with his help. 

The rest of the children were soooo quiet.The girls brushed me off, and the boys scattered to collect my things which had landed all over the place. My books and papers had flown out of my book bag, my yogurt had splattered all over the walkway. No one said a word!

We walked in like we always do, but the boy that had helped me up, kept his hand on my elbow as we took the steps to the 2nd floor and in to our classroom. The kids were all still so quiet. All morning, through math, then word work and writing, they were really quiet. Every now and then they'd ask again if I was OK. 

Later on, as we started reading, they were still somber. I had to snap them out of it!  I said "Hey guys! Remember when I fell this morning? Wasn't that hi-LA-rious? Ha ha ha ha haha ha haha!!!!!!!" I laughed at the visual I conjured up, of my shocked self laying on the sidewalk. And then, like dominoes, a chuckle spread though the room, turning into full-out belly laughs. 

I thought all day about how my kids reacted to the incident, how they remained respectful, and how they showed me their concern. They seemed worried all morning, until I got them to laugh about it!  I'll never forget how protected and loved I felt; my students stood by me and looked after me. 

It's gratifying to know that in the two months we've been together, my students and I have developed a relationship that allows us to care for each other and laugh together. And I salute their parents for the fine job they've done so far in raising kind children.

Humbled...

Take out your cellphones, please.

Last night, while in bed, I used mobile technology to get a quick answer.

Late Night with Jimmy Fallon was running a repeat of their July 7 show. A band called My Morning Jacket was the last guest. When they started to play Circuital, which I had never heard before, I was captivated by the intriguing way in which the song began. I often get hung up on certain pieces of melody, and I just had to know who these guys were.

Luckily, my Nook Color was at arm's reach. OK, the Nook is supposed to be a reader, and that is how I use it for the most part. However, I wanted to find the name of the song, and I wanted to hear it again, to affirm that I had indeed come across a sound that pleased me. I switched on the browser to my Nook, did a quick Google search, and there they were. A band and a song I had never heard before, and that I would certainly look in to further.

This morning, after reading the article Mobile Tech in Classrooms Boosts English Learners, it occurred to me, the same on-the-spot-let's-find-out could take place in my classroom. If my students were each handed mobile devices at the beginning of the school year - like Nooks, iPads, tablets or netbooks - their worlds would be made larger, and language learning would be enhanced.

Or, what if my students were permitted to use their cellphones in class? This past year, of my 19 fourth-graders, nine of them had their own cellphones. What if I devised activities where my students would be allowed to use their cellphones to access information, submit answers, collaborate and be even more engaged? Until mobile devices are provided to ALL learners, why not let us use what is already in our students' hands?

We Can Do Better

When I first welcomed him to our classroom back in September, "G" warned me, in all his toughness, "there's nothing you can do to make me like school". I was taken aback by his statement, but instantly took it as a challenge. We struggled the first several weeks as we got to know each other. He had to learn to trust me, while I had to figure out what set him off.

I learned quickly that G had two huge issues: divorced parents and what looked to me like dyslexia or dysgraphia. Which of the two? I'm afraid we never got to that. Although G had been referred to I & RS last year, all he got this school year was two marking periods of tutoring! I had him in my lowest reading group, gave him extra time at writing conferences, and tried different tactics for getting him through his literacy difficulties. (Classroom teachers are not necessarily equipped to address the needs of dyslexia and dysgraphia, unfortunately.) I also had to muster up some serious patience, especially at the beginning of the year, during his outbursts which involved shoving furniture, throwing school supplies, and trying to engage me in arguments. His little face would turn red, he would huff and puff, he would cry. He would tense up and pinch or squeeze his arm. ( I later recognized this as his attempt to control himself.)

I knew, of course, he acted out of frustration. He lived with his mother one week, his father the next. G clearly had a preference for his dad's place. I could easily tell on a Monday morning whose week it was, by the angry look on his face. His family situation, coupled with his learning difficulties, made for a very angry little boy.

As the year progressed, G did get better academically and socially. He did very well in math. He contributed very thoughtfully to classroom discussions. And although his independent reading ability was well below grade level, he developed a desire to read. I often found him engrossed in the Diary of a Wimpy Kid series, which took him way longer than his peers, but held his attention. He eventually overcame some of his distaste for school. His classmates often teased, "See?!! You DO like school!" He learned to curb his emotional outbursts and he practiced self-calming techniques.

I know we should have done more. As much as I advocated for G, my school was not able (or willing?) to address his needs more appropriately. Some forms were filled out, a few questionnaires completed, and ONE meeting held to discuss his case. By the end of the year, his case was left... open? hanging? in limbo?

G left for summer vacation a week earlier than his classmates, while I was still grading benchmark tests. He said "Bye Miss!" as he took off at the end of his last day, and that was that. My eyes later filled up at his response to a persuasive writing prompt, where he was to explain why our school is the best in town:

Also the techors here cold relle chang a person. Like me befor I cam to this school. I hated being in school. However, the techors changed me. I still don't like school but now I can't sae I hate going and being in school. Also the techers are alway fair about stfo.

This is the "stuff" that makes me want to do better.

School's out for summer

On this last day of school I wanted to say so many things to my students. But there were cumulative folders to fill out, books to put away, papers to file, a final assembly to attend, summer paperwork to distribute, and letters to send home. Sorry kids - your teacher didn't have a chance to share some last thoughts.

Five minutes before the bell rang, I said "OK guys. Last time I'm going to say it. Let's line up for dismissal." And all of a sudden I felt a little lump in my throat. I looked away to hide a tear that welled up, and started down the hall, downstairs, to the gym, where I delivered my kids every day for the past year, so they could catch their buses to various parts around town.

I grabbed the first child's hand, I'm not sure why, and walked with her like that until we got to the gym. She looked at our hands and raised them, saying "This is something I'm going to remember."  And with that, I hugged my 4th grade buddies, whispering a few special words to each, and sent them on their way. 

¡Adelante mis niños!