A Rant - Casting Off Accessories, Teacher Accountability and the Reality of Our World

A few years ago, I did a post on how I think most parents consider their children to be accessories. Unfortunately, I still think that way. However, now these parents are apparently casting off their accessories because they're too much work.

Case in point. I had a student last year who had a lot of severe mental problems, bi-polar being the least of them. Biological dad was in jail somewhere in another state, he lived with mom and sister. He spent time during his sixth grade year in a mental institution, and did a return visit during the year I had him. He was spending most of his eighth grade year in our Behavior Adjustment unit but I noticed recently that I hadn't seen him around which was unusual. I mentioned this to the BA teacher the other day and she informed me that his mother had washed her hands of him and turned him over to the state and he was now in foster care and attending another school. The BA teacher was in court (called as a witness) when this happened and basically said that his mother told the court that she didn't want anything to do with him any more. I'm sure hearing that must have made this kid's day.

Another teacher, Mrs. Strawberry, was summoned to court last week to appear as a witness in a custody case involving a student. She mentioned that while she sat in the court waiting for her case to come up not one, not two, but three parents were there turning their kids over to the state! And that's just one day in one court in one city.

And of course last week we had the President trot out his first education policy speech laced with buzzwords like accountability. Of course, he means, like every other politician out there, teacher accountability.

What I want to know is when in the bloody hell are parents going to start to be held accountable?

I get a number of education-related email newsletters every day and one this week had an interesting blurb about a study done by Henry C. Berliner and published jointly by the Education and Public Interest Center at the University of Colorado at Boulder and Arizona State University's Education Policy Research Unit that described seven out-of-school factors that play a role in a child's educational success. (For those of us in the classroom this is a big "duh" moment as we already know this - apparently most policy makers either don't or they don't care.) The factors include prenatal care, health care, food insecurity, environmental pollutants, family stress, neighborhood characteristics and extended learning systems.

I firmly believe that before any legislator, and that includes the President, makes any sort of law or policy in education, they need to walk in our shoes. This does not mean going to a high achieving elementary school with freshly scrubbed, well dressed, well fed cherubs who sit at your feet while you read a picture book to them and you get your photo op for the networks. How about working as a substitute teacher for a few weeks? Spend some time in the behavior adjustment unit with the kids with mental issues. How about some time working as the in school suspension teacher? Try to set up a parent meeting with a parent that not only didn't provide us with a working phone number, but all the other emergency contact numbers are bad as well. And then when you get that meeting set up (should that miracle occur) how about standing in the office for fifteen minutes waiting for the parent to not show up? How about enjoying that parent phone call where they tell you that "what happens in school is not my problem, you deal with it!". Sit in on an s-team meeting, a 504 meeting and an IEP meeting. Get all your paperwork done, your lessons planned, and then teach, teach, teach kids who aren't fed, washed, or cared for.

It's a tough thing to Not Leave A Child Behind when parents, such as they are, don't parent and are doing their best to drag their children down.

P.S. I haven't read the report cited above. I'd like to, but as of yet I haven't found it, just articles about it (and I'm not paying for any article, thankyewverymuch.) If anyone finds it, let us know.

Good Doggie, or The Most Interesting Things Happen When You Have a Student Teacher

Mrs. Jayhawker is flying solo this week (and doing a pretty good job of it, I might add), so I'm trying to make myself useful outside of my classroom. I've been getting a lot of team paperwork done, wrote a new benchmark quiz, and have done some one-on-one sessions with most of our kids to let them know what they need to do for the remainder of the school year to get academically promoted to eighth grade. For lack of a better place to work, I've sort of camped out in guidance, using a student laptop to work on stuff and hopefully lend a hand when needed (like the other day when Pinball Boy was having his meltdown.)

So, when Mr. Enforcer told me he'd need my help around 9 on Friday morning, I got curious.

"Something interesting going to happen?" I asked. I worked with him earlier in the year when we had a big deal disaster drill with some visiting consultants, and I knew they were coming back some time so I thought that might be it.

"Maybe," he said vaguely.

"Well, I have a student teacher so if there's anything she needs to know, I'd like to prep her," I said. I've been a sub and a student teacher and there's not much worse than being in a situation where you have no clue what to do.

"We may have some visitors and we may do a lockdown," he said. "Here's a print out of the procedure so she has it handy."

I thanked him, went in to see her (the kids were at their related arts) and gave her the lowdown, or what I knew so far. If she was lucky, it would happen at nine when all she had in the room were the kids that were supposed to show up for homework clinic.

I was on my way to Mr. Enforcer's Office when I heard him come over the intercom with the lockdown message. Kids were snatched into classrooms, doors went closed, and I hustled up to the front office to see a whole slew of law enforcement vehicles out front and a lot of officers in the lobby - with dogs!

Hey, it's a great day for a locker search!

It's no secret that drugs are a huge problem in schools, even elementary schools, sad to say, and even in schools in "good" communities. I taught in a nice rural area up North and we had a huge drug problem in that community (which always kind of made me shake my head when I'd hear parents yabber about how they moved to the country to escape the big city problems.) I've seen rich kids involved, and poor kids, and there's really no common denominator outside of the fact that they made some poor choices in life and were obviously missing something somewhere. We had regular sweeps, and managed to limit a lot of the drug problem at school because the kids knew that there could be a sweep at any time. True, they took the trade off-campus, but it did put a dent in the on-campus problems.

However, in the six years I've been at The School, we've never had a drug sweep. The first superintendent I served under absolutely refused to do so as he feared it would give the public the wrong idea. Honestly, I'd love it if they did the sweeps every quarter so the kids knew, like the ones up North, that bringing the stuff to school was a risk. Sadly, however, we've seen a big spike in drug trafficking in our area, including some rather large drug busts (one of which happened on parent conference day and made me wonder if perhaps some of my parents were a bit preoccupied with being arrested..) Our current superintendent decided it would be a good idea to sweep all the high schools and middle schools and see what they could find.

Mr. Enforcer gave me a bag of locker key masters and told me to go with one of the officers and sweep the sixth grade area. I ended up with an officer from a neighboring county who had a very sweet yellow lab who was prancing around and bubbling with excitement. It was obvious that this dog loved her job. We went through the sixth grade area, checked all the lockers, and the bathrooms, and came up clean. That was good.

"So," I asked the officer as we headed back to the main part of the building, "what would your dog do if she did smell something in a locker?"

"Oh, she'd sit down in front of it, like those dogs there," he said as we rounded the corner and spied two dogs sitting down in front of some lockers right outside my classroom.

Oh dear.

I knew who these lockers belonged to, and it wasn't even a surprise that the dogs got a hit on those lockers. One of the kids is the child of parents who deal in drugs (a well-known fact in the area) and has often been named as a source in the building although we've never been able to catch him with anything. The other is a kid who I've suspected was a user simply because of his demeanor most of the time. The officers searched these lockers, and came up empty for any illegal substances.

The only other hits were apparently quite a few down in the eighth grade wing, but again, a search was conducted and nothing was found. The officer I was with said that they often take the dogs to elementary schools and let the kids pet them and often the dog will indicate the presence of drugs on one of the children - they are so sensitive to the scent they will pick it up on clothing that a kid wears in a home where the parents are users. Considering the two lockers that were checked by my room, this didn't surprise me at all.

All in all it took an hour to sweep the building (and it was their second of the day) and then they were off to another school. Once the kids were released from lockdown and sent off to their classes the rumor mill began, so the teachers were instructed to let them know that they were put in lockdown to keep them out of the way, there was no danger, and this was a county-wide search and not a target at the school.

But you knew the rumor mill was going to go into high gear right away. Mrs. Language and Miss Reading asked me to come into their classes and talk to the kids about it ("Because you were in on the whole thing...") and I basically said that I wasn't telling them anything about what I saw, and if any of them heard from someone else whose locker was searched then they should consider it nothing but a lie and idle gossip because no students were out there and none of them have a clue what they are talking about. It didn't stop the kids from speculating (and amazingly, can you guess what names kept coming up? The kids who did have their lockers searched).

An unintended consequence of this whole thing? It got the kids so worked up that many of them started going to guidance and telling on kids they knew who had, in their possession, illegal substances. (Obviously, we didn't search the kids, they were in the classrooms.) By the end of the day we had expelled three for possession, sale, and use of prescription drugs. Raiding Mom and Dad's medicine cabinet has become big business for some of these kids (wonder how many of them are selling their own ADHD meds?) This is obviously a step up from a few years ago when my students were busy stealing over the counter cold medicine out of the bathroom cabinet and trying to get high off of that.

Just another one of those days that they don't prepare you for in teacher school...

Pinball Bounces Out

I did not have a good day today. Pinball Boy has found himself, despite my best efforts to work with him, headed towards alternative school.

I hate it when kids I adore end up going to alternative school. (Long time readers (all two of you) may remember Stoopid Boy.) It breaks my heart. However, there comes a time when it's out of my hands and, as Mr. Enforcer said, "I've got to think about the other 24 kids in the class."

We had been, I thought, making headway. Mom finally got him on some medication so the hyperactivity was under control (no more crawling on the floor and leaping through the hallways which was huge). His grades were improving. He was staying out of trouble - finally. However, January came and something happened. Instead of being the sweet, loving kid we knew, he was getting smart, surly, and argumentative. He stopped trying in school, and he told us all that the meds were out at home and he didn't know when Mom was going to get more. He was talking back and generally finding trouble anywhere he could.

This week he not only missed after school detention (which is an automatic suspension for one day) but gave two different substitute teachers fits when Miss Reading was out with the flu. It was the straw that broke the camel's back.

I was in guidance working on some grade stuff (I'm having to stay out of my room a bit so Mrs. Jayhawker, my student teacher, can teach without the kids thinking she's not in charge) when Mr. Enforcer came looking for me.

"I need your help with a hysterical kid," he said, with a pained look on his face.

"One of mine?" I asked.

"It's Pinball Boy. He's going to alternative school and he's having a melt down."

"So you want me to play mommy?" I asked.

"Exactly."

Oh good gracious. Pinball Boy was a shaking, quivering, crying, sobbing mess. It took us quite a while to get him calmed down. He begged and begged and begged for just one more chance (honestly, he's a likable kid so he's been given a lot of chances, more than most, already). I ended up spending nearly an hour with him, getting him calmed down, talking with him about the pros of alternative school (the kids usually see a huge improvement in grades so he'll pass for the year), and how if he's really, really, really good they might send him back early (hey, it's happened).

What I really wanted to know was what happened last month that caused him to cease being the kid I knew and loved and turned him into a snotty little brat who didn't care about anything. And I finally - finally - got it out of him, in amongst the tears and the wails.

"My step dad got put in jail in January and mom works all the time and I never see her and I have to take care of all the little kids and I don't see my real dad enough!"

Oh crap.

There's More Out There Than Malibu

I'll be the first to admit that I'm not overly impressed with celebrities. Perhaps it has to do with growing up in the L.A. area where every waiter was really an actor, where parents of classmates made their living in the film industry, and where you get so sick of hearing about celebrities that you want to hurl.

So I would like to remind my dear readers that, when it comes to the horrific fires in California, there are many people who aren't millionaires who are doing their share of suffering.

People like Momma Bluebird.

Momma Bluebird is retired and lives in a charming little cowboy town called Ramona, in San Diego County. This is a town with Title I schools, with residents who barely make minimum wage, with retirees and veterans who've saved to retire out here, and a few folks who have the money to live in Country Estates. (Keep in mind that a "half a million dollar" house in this area is equal to about $200,000 in most of the country.) Momma Bluebird tutors at a local school with kids who probably wouldn't get a meal if it wasn't for the nutrition department of the local school.

I knew when the Santa Anas were setting off fires in Malibu that it was simply a matter of time before Mom was affected. Four years ago the Cedar fire ran through her area and she was darned lucky she didn't lose her house (some neighbors did). By mid-afternoon Momma Bird had called and said that their luck had worn out, that there was a fire between Ramona and Julian and she was packing - just in case. Later that evening they were given a mandatory evacuation order and she packed up Kitty and headed out. (I have to give a big cyber-hug to her neighbor, the retired fire chief, who made sure she was okay, packed and had him follow his family out the single road that gets you out of her neighborhood. What a guy.)

She headed into Ramona to her friend's house, where she rode out the Cedar fire, only to get there in time to find out the whole town was being evacuated. Her friend loaded up her dogs and horses and headed out to Del Mar (this is a very horsey area), and Momma Bluebird found her way to a Red Cross Shelter. She's lost track of most of her other friends so it's just Kitty and Momma Bluebird (and her knitting) right now hanging out at the shelter.

She said it's a little weird and there's "people like your student Scratchy here." Great. She does have a cot, thanks to the National Guard, and a place to stay, thankfully. One of my old college sorority sisters emailed me and offered her a place to stay in Laguna but Momma Bluebird is afraid to leave because they keep closing roads and she doesn't want to get stuck anywhere.

Sigh.

So I'm here in My Beloved South, trying to teach my kids and worrying about my Momma Bluebird at the same time. Rough Day for me, but worse for her.

Keep all these folks in your prayers. They aren't all rich and famous celebrities...many are hard working blue collar folks who live pay check to pay check. And now, they might be burned out.

Today We Talked of Heroes

In remembrance of the events of September 11, 2001, I introduced my students to one of my heroes. I'd like to introduce him to you as well.

His name is Rick Rescorla.

He saved over 2,5000 lives on that day. In fact, he's often been called the Man Who Predicted 9/11. As the security expert for Morgan Stanley, he realized the vulnerability of the WTC, and he worked to make sure that everyone would get out alive should a terrorist attack occur. He drilled all the employees about safety procedures, practiced, and worked to make sure everyone knew what to do. And then, when it actually happened, he went back in to make sure that there were no stragglers.

He defined the words bravery and sacrifice.

A number of years ago one of my absolute favorite books military history books was written by Harold G. Moore and Joseph L. Galloway, titled We Were Soldiers Once and Young. This book tells the story of the 7th Cavalry and the battle of the Ia Drang Valley in November of 1965. It is, in my opinion, one of the most gut-wrenching stories out of that era. On the cover of that book is a picture of a lean and haggard soldier. That soldier was Rick Rescorla. As a platoon leader, he was definitely one of the best.

As I told my kinds, I don't know if I have the strength to do what Rick Rescorla did in his life, and hopefully I'll never have to find out. But I did want them to meet him and sometimes, realize that life is bigger than we are.

And amazingly enough, you could have heard a pin drop.

For more information on this true hero, go here.

Where are all the kids?

A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away - when I was young, in other words - summer vacation meant being outside. Actually just about every day of the year meant being outside seeing as I grew up in the Los Angeles area. No snow, no ice, no sub-zero temps - all the kids on the block spent most of our free time outside.

We played a lot of basketball, a lot of catch and baseball (in the street, no less), and I was blessed with my very own thetherball for a birthday one year and I spent many an hour whomping that ball back and forth. We all had skates or skateboards (or sometimes both) and would ride them all over the neighborhood, to the drugstore to buy comics, to the beach, and just anywhere we wanted to go. Even I, the dedicated bookworm, would do a lot of my reading outside, under a tree, or sitting on the back patio. My hubby, Mr. Bluebird, grew up in the Chicago suburbs and had a similar childhood where he spent hours playing outside with his friends, climbing trees, building forts, throwing balls, and riding bikes. And we were city kids growing up in urban areas.

So the other day Mr. Bluebird and I are out in the front yard, watering, pulling weeds, and all that fun stuff when he looks over at me and says, "Did you ever notice that we never see kids playing outside?"

He's right. We rarely see the neighborhood kids playing outside. And I know we have neighborhood kids because there's a school bus stop right by the foot of my driveway, and I've actually seen a number of kids outside once in a blue moon mowing lawns, or getting out of vehicles when mom and dad pull up in the driveway. The schools in this area are so overcrowded that they're opening a new middle school this fall and a new high school and elementary the following year, so there must be kids living nearby. Every once in a while we'll see a kid or two on a bike, or a few on skateboards, but there's no water balloon fights, no games of catch, no games of basketball (despite the fact that nearly every house has a basketball hoop), no hide and go seek, no tag. It's like some weird Ray Bradbury story where all the children are hidden away somewhere.

I'm hoping that they're all away at camp, and some of the little ones are at day care, but I suspect that's not the case. I'm guessing that our world is so crazy that a lot of these kids are, essentially, under house arrest until mom and dad get home from work. Or perhaps they don't want to be outside and are content to just sit at home, playing video games, cruising My Space, or texting their friends.

Every year I get a new crop of seventh graders and every year I am astounded at how physically unfit they are, how uncoordinated they are, and how pudgy they are. They have little familiarity with nature, with the outdoors, and with anything outside of a video game. It was so bad that this year, at the end of the school year, Mrs. Language and I played a pick-up basketball game with some of our students and just kicked their butts. We were astounded that two ladies in their 40's were more coordinated and in better shape than a bunch of 13-year olds.

That's sad. And makes me worry more and more about the kind of future these kids are going to have.

Send Some Prayers Mr. Eagle's Way

As most of my regular readers know, Mrs. Eagle is not only a teacher I collaborate with a lot, but she's also my very best friend. She makes my job so much easier, but she's also always there when I need her, she's fun to hang out with, and we have so much in common many people call us The Twins.

Without going into all the details, her husband (also a school district employee and an Army veteran) was seriously injured in an accident at his friend's auto body shop where he likes to work on restoring his antique cars. He was life-flighted to Vanderbilt University Hospital in Nashville with burns on 50% of his body. Fortunately they have the best severe burn trauma unit in the southeast there, so he's in good hands. One of their sons, who helped put out the fire, suffered burns on his hands and is also being treated by the burn unit folks, but fortunately on an out-patient basis.

Mr. Eagle is currently more or less in a drug induced coma. He has had one surgery already for skin grafts, and has months and months of recovery and rehabilitation ahead of him. Mrs. Eagle is spending most of her time down at Vanderbilt so she can visit with him the four times a day they let someone come in and sit with him.

She is already bored out of her mind.

Mrs. Eagle is one of the most determined and positive people I know. She's staying as upbeat as possible (considering the circumstances I wonder how well I'd be handling it) and she's doing her best to keep busy. I went down to visit with her today at the hospital and brought her a dozen books, a book on knitting, needles and yarn. As she said, it's a good time for me to get her knitting as she as all this time on her hands. She's trying to keep as busy as possible with something other than worrying about what hell her husband is going through.

I think those of us in the blogosphere are a powerful group of people when we put our minds to it. Which is why I'd appreciate some prayers sent up for Mr. and Mrs. Eagle. These are both people who have dedicated their lives to service to our country through their Army careers, and now service to our children through their work in education and scouting. If anyone deserved some prayers, it's these two.

Remembering Philipp and the others

It's hard to believe, but it's been a year since one of my first students, and certainly one of my favorites, lost his life in a drowning accident. Philipp was a fantastic kid, and there are a lot of us who miss him terribly. This past week I've been thinking a lot about Philipp, as the anniversary of his death was coming up, and many of my memories of him are so silly and fun to reflect on.

Like I said last year, as teachers, we borrow other people's children for a while and often times can't keep from falling in love with them.

It has been a difficult year for the students in our middle school and the high school it feeds into - we have lost nine students this year. Philipp and Vince were the first, then Michael, a 6th grader, died of a previously undiagnosed heart ailment. Richard, an 8th grader, was hit by a car and killed the week before school started. Tomas, who graduated from High School with Mrs. Eagle's daughter, was murdered. Another high school student, Daniel, was killed in a street-racing accident, and several weeks later, three other high school students were killed in a car accident after a baseball game.

It's been tough. Many of our students have learned some life lessons at an age where they should be enjoying being young. I'm proud of how well many of them have handled their grief and sorrow and how they channeled it into doing good.

My roses are blooming, finally, and I think I'll get some gathered together and pay a visit to Philipp this weekend...I'm sure he knows how much he made my first year at The School one to remember, and how much I enjoyed having him in my life.

Children Are Not Accessories, or a Tale of Some Real SAP's.

Children are not accessories.

That seems pretty obvious, doesn't it?

Apparently a lot of people haven't quite figured this out. I've had this discussion before, on this blog, and with others in the field of education, but there are times I feel like we need to shout this from the highest mountain top, or perhaps take an ad out during a showing of Survivor or American Idol, because, apparently, that's all some parents are interested in these days.

Children are not accessories.

They are not something you have because everyone else has one, or because your parents are pressuring you into giving them a grandkid, or because you think it will save a relationship, or because you want something to call your own, or because you think it will give you a weapon to wield over someone, or because you were too damn stupid to say no when you were drunk one night and you weren't thinking clearly. They aren't something you can dump on others to raise while you cavort and carry on, pursue a career, or get yourself together. They aren't something you can hide away, neglect, or ignore. They are work, they require time and patience, and if you aren't going to provide them with this, you are going to be in for a world of misery, heartache, and anger.

We have a student I'll call Neglected Boy. Neglected Boy is actually a charming kid, with a big smile, and an outgoing personality. He apparently was a bit of a handful last year, and was non-academically promoted to the seventh grade. He is definitely capable of being successful.

If someone cared enough to see that he was, that is.

See, Neglected Boy has a father who has a successful job and who travels a lot on business and is rarely home. His mother also has a job that takes her away, often overnight and for extended periods of time as well. This family is not hurting financially. At the beginning of the year there was a nanny who signed some of the paperwork that we sent home to be signed for a parent. In short, the parents aren't home. A thirteen-year old and a five year old younger brother are, essentially, raising themselves.

Earlier in the fall we began to notice things - Neglected Boy would often wear the same clothes for days in a row, and in fact, many of his clothes were ill-fitting, torn, and too small. We sent him to guidance to get some clothes from our donation closet. Neglected Boy would also
come to school in need of a bath and a haircut. He would also occasionally ask us to borrow money for lunch as his parents forgot to give him any to put into his account. His behavior could be good, often times was not, and he never, ever did any school work. If he brought a pencil, we considered it a good day. He has, all year, failed all five academic classes. He was s-teamed and the gist of it was that he was a good kid, capable, but who was getting no support at home.

It was apparent to us that this was a kid crying out for attention, and one who wasn't getting it at home. Mr. Social Studies tried numerous times to call home. He left messages, none of which were returned. I did the same. We sent home letters. We never got a response. We never could get them to provide us with a parent email so we could at least communicate that way.

One day Mr. Social Studies knocked on my door, said he'd watch my class because Neglected Boy was being dismissed so someone must be in the front office to pick him up. The idea was that I'd try to set up a parent meeting at that time. I went up, met Mr. Neglected Boy, introduced myself and tried to set up a meeting.

"I'm too busy to come by," he said.

"You do realize that he's in danger of failing again this year, don't you?" I asked him.

He stared at the ceiling, obviously bored with this conversation. "Yeah, whatever, I just don't have the time," he said again - in front of his son, who was kicking at the tiles, and looking at the floor.

"Can you set up an appointment when you return from your business trip?" I asked. "Any time or day would work."

"Yeah, maybe. I'll call when I get back," he said as he turned to go to the door. Needless to say, he never called.

Mrs. Language did get him on the phone a few months later, when she was filling in as an administrator and working on a suspension for Neglected Boy who had done something stupid (I can't even remember what) and he was less than excited to be talking with her. "Look, he said, "I don't care about meeting with you because I don't care about his academics. That's not my problem." Mrs. Language decided that this father was a perfect example of a SAP - a Stupid Assed Parent. We all agreed.

One day Neglected Boy actually started talking a bit about his home life with Mr. Social Studies and Mrs. Math and we put a few more facts together and realized that the nanny was gone and there was no adult home with Neglected Boy and his little brother. We made a DCS call, they responded (promptly, which surprised us), and they had the same problems we had trying to get into contact with an adult. Neglected Boy was assigned a caseworker, and his mother went nuts, and set up a meeting with the Guidance Goober....and never showed.

Today, at lunch, Neglected Boy walked by The Enforcer and the Enforcer's radar went up. He smelled alcohol. Deputy Smooth and The Enforcer pulled Neglected Boy aside, and he admitted to drinking. He had a water bottle in his locker but it wasn't full of water. Rumor has it he confessed to not only having the alcohol, but also some pot in his locker as well. I'm not sure what the outcome will be on this, but he's gone for the rest of the school year.

This is a kid who has been crying out for attention all year. We have tried, and tried, and tried to get the parents to talk to us, to show that they care, to realize that they have a great kid here, but one who needs guidance, attention, love and support - and they shut us out. They are not interested. I have seen people lavish more attention and care on their pets than these people spend on their child. All of us have tried to counsel this child, to make him realize that he would have to make the decisions to change his life, but we couldn't follow him home, make sure he had a hot meal, or got to bed on time, or did his homework, or even had a hug.

So now these parents have a kid with an alcohol problem, a kid who's failed all his classes - again-, and a kid who's going to be up in front of a judge for, at the minimum, a citation for having alcohol in school. If something doesn't happen, and fast, this is a kid who's looking at a lifetime of misery, and all of it, in my opinion, is the result of being nothing more than an accessory for the people who brought him into this world.

And I can't begin to tell you how angry this makes me.

Slow down this growing up stuff, okay?

Nearly four years ago, on the very first day of school at my first permanent, full-time teaching job, a fresh-faced seventh grader in my homeroom stuck out her hand and introduced herself.

"Hi, I'm Talky Girl and I talk alot! But I'm really nice!"

And she was. And she did talk a lot. But she made that first year a little bit more bearable. It was a rough year for me personally (moving 600 miles to start a new career, the passing of my mother-in-law, being separated from Hubby while he dealt with his mother's estate and selling our house, plus my mother nearly losing her home in the San Diego fires, to name just a few of the bumps in my road.) I was doing my best to keep my head above water and kids like Talky Girl made it a little easier. She was a good kid, an average student, but a kid ready with a laugh and a hug. She once told me that she spent more time with me than she did with her own mom and would sometimes slip and call me mom. She'd realize her mistake and just giggle and giggle.

I have her sister this year and she's a delightful child as well. She's very quiet compared to her older sister (perhaps she hasn't ever been able to get a word in edgewise). She's rarely absent so I was a bit surprised today when she wasn't in school.

"Oh, she's out today because her sister was having her baby last night," the kids informed me.

"Really?" I said, thinking it must be another sister.

I found out later that day that it wasn't an older sister. It was Talky Girl. She's barely fifteen and is finishing up her sophomore year at The High School.

I can't tell you how this saddens me. I last saw Talky Girl this fall (and she must have already been pregnant at the time) and she was just raving about how much fun high school was and how she loved being on the color guard team and she was doing really good with her grades.

And now she has a baby.

And she doesn't even have a driver's license.

Hey Dude, Where's My History?

I may be a science teacher, but another passion of mine is history, so this post by Ms. Cornelius at A Shrewdness of Apes, caught my eye.

With more and more emphasis on high stakes testing, history and social studies are getting swept aside. This really worries me. Our democracy was founded with the premise that citizens will participate. However, knowledge and understanding of history (and geography and civics, etc.) is needed so that people not only understand what's going on, but participate in an intelligent manner. Our kids aren't being taught enough history, especially in elementary school, because it's not a focus of testing.

When it comes to the elementary schools science and social studies face a similar problem - with the focus on reading and math, both subjects tend to get ignored. Couple that with elementary teachers who don't feel comfortable teaching these subjects, and you get kids who hit middle school with little to no prior knowledge of the subject. Pretty hard to build on prior knowledge when there isn't any.

I wish that more elementary teachers would use books on science and social studies (lots of great historical fiction out there) to work with kids on reading. It certainly would go a long way in filling in this critical gap.

Rant over for now...

The Fear and the Fury

We were supposed to have our Family Literacy Night tonight at school. However, Mother Nature being the cantankerous sort that she is, the district decided to cancel all after school-activities so we could get all the kids home before the severe weather hit us later this afternoon and evening. Interestingly enough, we were the only county in the area that didn't send our kids home early, but that could be because we send them home early as it is - our school day ends at 2:05.

Because it was kind of nice having a bit of time without a parent meeting, a staff meeting, or a tutoring class, I volunteered to be part of the skeleton staff that stuck around just in case one of the buses had to turn back due to weather. I'm a junkie about weather anyway (Dad worked meteorology for the airlines when I was little) and it's my favorite unit to teach. So, I worked on lessons for next week, watched The Weather Channel, and scooted out at 3:15. The storms seemed to have sidestepped us for the most part, leaving the really bad stuff for areas further south.

I'll be honest and say that I teared up when I heard the news about the High School in Enterprise, Alabama getting hit by a tornado. Although we train for it, practice our drills and emergency procedures, and read through our handbook, the reality is none of us ever really wants to be at school when something like a tornado hits. The idea of a kid getting seriously hurt, or killed, on my watch just leaves me with an awful feeling in the pit of my stomach. I feel responsible for these children, and even though I have no control over the weather, I still would feel somewhat responsible if something happened. We have had tornadoes here before, and we will again. It's just a matter of time.

My thoughts and prayers go out to the students, faculty, and staff of Enterprise High School. Hopefully this horrific event will bring out the best in people, and not the worst.