Snow Day!

Christmas brought the gift of snow this year, not a commonplace occurrence in the South. Being trapped inside (I'm not much of a sledder or skater or bundle-er-upper), brings the opportunity to read and write, activities that have to be pushed aside during regular life routines. I've pulled out some "snow pieces" that I've written in the past couple of years. Maybe this year's snow will inspire me to write some more....

This one won me a fourth place nod one year in the Carolina Women's Writing Contest:

Oxymoron

"There's snow on the beach,"

he announced, walking in.

I turned to see him,

a mixture of ice shaving on eyelash,

salt spray on skin,

and, somehow, the words don't connect -

beach...snow...

the two images in an abrasvie refusal

to meet as one.

I looked at him...puzzled...

seeing pictures of a younger man

by the ocean,

forgotten images

working to share

the same scrapbook

with this picture, this man,

the one with the snow peppered hair.

The image now warms me -

snow - and - beach.

Morning Snowbird

A bird

was heard.

Snow was falling

down.

Snow was falling.

Bird was calling,

making spring-like

sounds.

Making spring,

flapping wings;

Bird protests the

snow.

Bird protests;

I can't rest.

I'll just get up and

go.

(That one is a true story about a bird waking me up a few winters ago...)

Precipitation Alliteration

spring brings

luminous lightning,

threatening thunder,

and

rhythmic rain.

but

winter brings

SNOW:

the weather whisperer.

(I hope you all are enjoying the quiet of snow today. Take some time to read...and write!)

Not My Great-Grandmother's Teacher Working Conditions

In my early years as a teacher, the words “working conditions” would take me to thoughts of lower level needs: access to adult bathrooms, telephones to call parents, adequate planning time, and reasonable workloads (and my great-grandmother's duties of filling the woodstove and scrubbing the floors of the classroom in 1903). But a new report released by the Center for Teaching Quality has continued to change my way of thinking; the phrase “teacher working conditions” represents a more global perspective of teaching, what teachers need in order to be effective in a larger sense. Yes, teacher working conditions are much more complex than bathroom access.

Transforming School Conditions: Building Bridges to the Education System that Students and Teachers Deserve is the latest TeacherSolutions report released by the Center and written by fourteen accomplished teachers from urban districts across the country. The report focuses on research-based principles that will “undergird sustainable and effective teaching reforms.”

With recommendations on areas where schools, districts, teachers, as well as school administrators need to focus, this team of accomplished teachers has covered everything from student learning growth to how to embrace school communities as partners.

The report begins with a look at teacher education programs and how well they are preparing teachers for the realities of the classroom. It is not surprising to read that teachers are entering the profession unprepared to teach the second language learner and unprepared to become “student assessment experts.”

Other tidbits aren’t shocking: “Teacher attrition has always been an issue and research shows that the decision to stay or leave is directly related to teacher working conditions” while others are: “Teacher turnover is costing the country 7.3 billion each year.”

I was delighted to see a reference to the North Carolina Teacher Working Conditions Survey, a process that empowers me, as a North Carolina educator, to have my voice heard on everything from how supportive my administrators are to how helpful my professional development is. I'm not surprised that this team of teachers agrees that we must provide a way for teachers to share concerns about the workplace.

In addition, the report points to “five ways in which conditions in schools, state and local education agencies, and preparation programs are holding back student learning and a 21st century teaching profession:

1. Recruitment and preparation pathways for teacher candidates;
2. Assessment and evaluation systems for students and teachers;
3. Development of professional networks within and across schools to support teaching and learning;
4. Empowerment and professional leadership for teachers; and
5. Investment of community resources to develop and support effective schools."

This report is written by teachers who truly understand the obstacles to effective teaching and who also recognize what is right about schools today. For example, teacher residencies are touted as meaningful to pre-service teachers who are given time to understand the job from top to bottom and beginning to end as they are training “on the job” during an entire school year. There are also discussions on the importance of mentoring, the need for multiple measures of teacher evaluation, and the strength that comes from working in Professional Learning Communities.

Invest a little time into some meaningful professional development and read what fourteen of America’s great teachers are saying about working conditions in our schools. We, as educators, are lucky to have the Center for Teaching Quality who continues to utilize the talents of teacher leaders and impact education policy in our country.

Saving D, Part 2

I'm in a movie. That's it - I'm reading from a script. I must be playing a character because I can hear the words I'm saying, but I don't recognize "parole officer" and "turn yourself in" and "house arrest" as words I would ever need to say.

My former student D is eighteen now. He called me a week ago to tell me many things, all of them troubling:

1. He was just released from prison.

2. He has a four-month-old son who's in foster care.

3. He currently owns only three articles of clothing.

4. He wants to go back to school and graduate, but it would be too embarrassing (see #3).

5. He really wants a job to the point that he's harrassing people, but no one will hire him.

His last words at the end of the call - "Mrs. Rigsbee, can you help me?"

I wrote about some of D's troubles two years ago. Whenever I see him or talk to him, I cry. It's so sad to witness the stereotype of the young, smart kid growing up in poverty and heading in the wrong direction. I cry because I always thought if I cared enough, if I encouraged him enough, he would beat the odds.

He didn't.

And I cry because I don't know what to do to help him now. But this time I start by doing a Google search - I find that he was arrested in April for armed robbery. Later I learn that he was there but had no weapon; two others actually carried out the crime. D was convicted of "accessory after the fact."

Next I do a Department of Corrections Offender search. There's his name, just like it used to sit in my grade book, on his rarely turned in papers, and on the suspension list. I now know his DOC number, his age, his offense, and the fact that he's out of prison...on parole.

That leads me to my next step. I call my county's parole office and find the name of the officer I need in seconds. He returns my call within an hour.

When I have health issues, I pride myself on being educated on what may or may not be going on with my body. I do research to the point that I feel confident that I can converse with a medical doctor to communicate what I need. Not so much with a parole officer.

I know that I don't have the language I need to articulate what I want - some ideas about resources for helping D. As it turns out, it doesn't matter. Halfway into my first sentence, the officer interrupts me: "The thing is....he's at large." I have to think about that one a minute, but finally I get it. He's out there somewhere, they can't find him, and they want him. My heart sinks.

The officer tells me that there are three warrants for D, and he better get in touch before it's too late. I had called because I wanted to help D get a job and some clothes and a place to live. Instead I find myself asking for time...time to find him so I can encourage him to turn himself in. The parole officer gives me one day.

I call D's phone, but it's turned off. I go through my phone frantically and find the number he used when he called me last week. I have no idea whose phone I'm calling, and I'm terrified. A girl answers. I tell her who I am and what I want. She mumbles, barely audible, "Hold on." Another girl comes to the phone. Same scenario.

Finally, "Mrs. Rigsbee?" I talk, words tumbling out of my mouth one after another - "turn yourself in"..."do the right thing"..."I'll help you through this...."

He says, "You don't know how they do. They lie."

I say, "Don't talk without a lawyer. You have a right to have a lawyer present." (I shake my head at the phone. Since when am I Kate Beckett on Castle?)

He resists.

I continue, "D, you've hit rock bottom. You have two ways you can go. You can make something of your life, or you can go to jail. What's it gonna be?"

One thing he wants me to know: "Mrs. Rigsbee," he says quietly. "About my armed robbery conviction...you know I could never hurt anybody, right?"

"I know, D," I answer, choking on tears again. We hang up so D can make his call. Soon he calls me back to tell me he's going to turn himself in.

And now I wait. I wait for the ending to this movie I'm in. Years ago, I signed up to teach middle school kids, and now I'm the one getting "schooled" on life. I tell D I don't know anything about this world he lives in...all I know about what he's into is what I've seen on tv. He turns his face away from the phone and yells, "Hey, Mrs. Rigsbee thinks my life is a movie!"

Yea, D, and I just pray for a happy ending.

Givin' Halloween a Chance

I used to proclaim that Halloween was my least favorite holiday. First, as a single parent of young children, the celebration was yet another thing I did alone, from costume gathering to trick-or-treating to stomach soothing after too much sugar ingesting.

Also, as a young mother, it seemed to me that there was an unspoken competition when it came to putting costumes together. If I dared to show up to a pre-school party with my kids decked out in pre-fab costumes (some type of vinyl body cover and a plastic mask so popular in the 80's) there would be looks of pity and then whispers as one-by-one the other moms would shake their heads at my kids and then walk away, dragging their child-model in a handsewn costume with them. I'm not much of a competitor when it comes to things I don't know how to do. I decided then to hate Halloween and all the tricks and treats that went with it.

But perhaps the biggest reason I began to dread the orange holiday as soon as the first leaf yellowed is obvious - I TEACH MIDDLE SCHOOL! Are you kidding me? It seems my fate was incredibly twisted. 11-13 year olds are unteachable at Halloween! Right up there with Valentine's Day and Winter Break, the days surrounding that ghastly day have always been difficult. Candy gathered in the 'hood the night before means candy in the school the day after. And kids aren't even sneaky about it! A question about a character in a story was once drowned out by an across-the-classroom trade: "I'll give you my candy corn for your malted milk balls." Let's just say the rest of the class missed the "malted milk" part, and it took me the remainder of the period to settle them down.

But one year someone talked me into participating in our school-wide Halloween celebration. I resisted, but then she brought me the costume. Our school mascot was the Red Devils (since changed to Cardinals due to the hellish nature of the name), and the costume was a bright red, lycra unitard with matching headband/horns and a tail. It was so beautiful I couldn't resist. It looked like this, only sans the flames and wings:

There was a contest - one money prize for a teacher and one for a student. And we wore our costumes to school on Halloween Day. I absolutely cannot believe that I wore that skin-tight outfit to school. Yes, I was a 30-year-old very skinny teacher at the time. But STILL! What were my 7th graders thinking?

I tell you what they were thinking...that their teacher won $50 for the best costume! From then on, I was hooked. Halloween is awesome!! I even began to incorporate Halloween into our classroom activities. The students love our Fright Fair project; they all write scary stories, and then they're assigned projects that match their interests and skills. Some kids design, make, and deliver the invitations. Others design and then decorate the room.

On Halloween Day teachers come to hear story readings. The room is dark except for one small light in the middle of a story-telling circle and the orange lights that are weaved through the spiderwebs hanging on the walls and the whiteboard. Carrot cake is served to the visitors and a ghoulish time is had by all.

Last night as I sat on a hayride and watched my granddaughter (Cinderella) treat-or-treat, I thought Halloween is my favorite holiday!

Also known as....if you can't beat 'em, join 'em.

To a Farmer Dying Young (with thanks to A.E. Housman)

...Today, the road all runners come,

Shoulder-high to bring you home

And set you at your threshold down,

Townsman of a stiller town.

Smart lad, to slip betimes away

From fields where glory does not stay,

And early though the laurel grows

It withers quicker than the rose.

Eyes the shady night has shut

Cannot see the record cut

And silence sounds no worse than cheers

After earth has stopped the ears...

excerpt from "To An Athlete Dying Young"
A.E. Housman

I met him when we were both college freshmen. We graduated high school the same year in towns eight miles apart, and he was the kind of person who immediately made others feel they'd always known him. The freshman year is when the circle of friends widens - high school friends of dormmates come to visit, and soon the world is bigger and better. Such it was with Rob.

I was reading Housman poems in Freshman English back then, picking them apart, every word holding more meaning than a nineteen-year-old would originally think. I worked at learning how to get inside the mind of a poet...while Rob was across campus, learning how to breed cattle. Animal Husbandry he called his major. This city girl had never heard of it.

One weekend the future farmer took me to his family's farm. So many cows in one place! It was a dairy farm then, and Rob called me over to see the special cow, being milked just at that time. He said, "Look, this cow has a square hole." Just as I bent over to look at the hole, I got a face full of fresh milk. He laughed himself silly over that one, although I'm sure he'd pulled that trick thousands of times.

Later that afternoon, he took me for a ride through the country on his motorcycle, my first ride out in the open air like that. I was reminded of an Anne Morrow Lindbergh book I had recently read. She described her first airplane flight with her future husband, Charles. She talked about feeling so free, seeing everything from a different perspective...with the wind in her hair.

That's how that ride felt to me...and that day on the farm. I had a renewed perspective, one altogether different the next day when I poured milk on my cereal.

The years went by, like that wind on that day, and Rob and I went on with our lives, our marriages, and our families. But Rob Hogan taught me the meaning of simpler things, the love of farm animals, and what being kind to people is all about. I've seen him a couple of times over the years. We've laughed at how far we've come - with ever-growing families and responsibilities.

But yesterday when he died, I felt like we were still there - nineteen years old with our lives before us. To me, Rob will always be that college kid with the beautiful smile, even though now he's somewhere in a dreamy pasture, playing the square hole joke on angels.

Waiting for Pinocchio...to check his sources...

The title of this blog changed along the way - it started as "Waiting for Pinocchio to SHUT UP!" But the seething anger I've been carrying around is so toxic I had to temper it lest I come across as short and snippy with friends, colleagues, and worst-of-all, the students in my school.

"Pinocchio" refers to the propaganda pushers who are speaking of public schools as if they themselves sit in the front row of Miss Kilpatrick's classroom every day and therefore are experts on the issues of education. In the process there is misinformation (read: lies) being broadcast across the country.

Educators have been speaking out, for example, about the movie Waiting for Superman (I won't include the link to the trailer because I refuse to promote it.) I did watch the preview...once...and will not watch it again. Basically it says that schools and teachers are failing and that charter schools are the answer to all of public education's problems.

I'm sure there are some amazing charter schools. There are also some lousy ones. Sound familiar? Can we not say that about non-charter public schools, private schools, churches, restaurants, medical facilities, and on and on?

Oprah even hung on to Waiting for Superman's cape and made sure her audience was made aware of how difficult it is to get "bad" teachers out of schools. Did you know that teachers receive tenure after two years? That's what Pinocchio said that day. Well, guess what? It takes four years in my state. Four. At the end of years one, two, and three, a principal can decide to "non-renew" a contract. It seems to be a secret that poor teachers can be let go.

Teachers have been weary for awhile now...taking the blame for the alleged "failure" in schools. We're not weary any more. We're mad.

But what can we do about a movie that says "Our schools are failing. Our teachers are failing"? I heard a principal yesterday say, "We're always the punching bag...always on our heels...we're never on our toes, punching ourselves..."

I think it's time to punch Pinocchio. Let's make our own movies. Grab a video camera and record a success story, a student talking about the public school experience that kept him in school, another talking about the teacher who made a difference. Let's edit all the clips together and make our own movie - Superman is HERE. I have my camera ready? Do you?

With the End in Sight...

If you're in any way connected to education, you're beginning to feel a simmering force field of energy around you, and you know it's coming: the First Day of School.

I've been noticing it for awhile; I once was a Year-Round Calendar teacher, and I know how it feels to get those little prickles of excitement well before now. And as I've written before, the First Day is the BEST day (which is why I capitalize it like a holiday!) Blogs this time of year will be full of First Day activities and tips, and teachers all around are anxious with expectations on this the Happy New Year of Teaching.

This year, as you hand out insurance forms and Free/Reduced Lunch applications, I hope you'll think about another exciting time of a school year - the Last Day of School. As you look at your freshly scrubbed darlings sitting quietly (which is a good thing because you don't really know their names yet), think about what they'll look like, who they'll be, on the last day of school.

Chances are they'll be worn down and weary, many who worked dilligently but still failed standardized tests, many who've endured life-changing circumstances in their home lives - separation, divorce, domestic abuse, some who haven't fit in this year and are hoping for better things ahead...

I've written about Jamie who began the school year as a sixth grader, giddy with excitement, happy as a bird as my mother-in-law used to say. Fast forward to the end - Jamie was sullen, even weepy at times, over his parents' separation and pending divorce. He acted out in an effort to get attention of any kind, even negative. I didn't let him down. There were just days when he would push my buttons, and I'd end up calling his dad. Most days I was a listener and an advice-giver. But some days he wore me to the brink of exhaustion.

Teachers get worn down, too...tired of working extra hours for less pay, tired of health insurance costing more, but covering less, and tired of hanging from the ceiling fan to teach standards to kids, some who still don't pass standardized tests.

Last week I was on a beach vacation. I rode my bike just by a marshy area beautiful with blue water and green marsh reflections. I wrote the following about one particular morning:

Oak Island Goodbye

The pelican

has a choreographed

flight.

The pattern

is not a chance

meeting

of wind and wing.

Instead he flaps

rhythmically

just inches

above the water

then glides

on that glassy surface

until gravity

persuades the wings

to move again.

I watch

through sea oats

and grassy marsh,

looking over

sun-dotted water

and then make a vow:

Once I’m back

to my racetrack life...

speeding in circles

and getting nowhere...

I’ll remember

this place

and that bird

and this moment.

I’ll hold it

and think yet again

to slow down

and glide.

**************************************************

I challenge you to cherish those First Day children all year long. On the last day, look at them again and assess what your impact has been on their lives. In between...when you're weary and they're pushing buttons, think of that day and remember the freshly scrubbed darlings of nine months ago. Hold them like that as long as you can...