Presents

I seem to get a great deal more gifts as a second grade teacher. To date:

• a necklace
• banana bread
• pumpkin seeds
• a bracelet
• a copious amount of art
• and this GIANT apple

Casual Friday

After a year of dressing up to fit into "how a principal looks" (ugh!), this is a happy teacher on a Friday.

Gum Day

Kids choose rewards in my class. First one this year: Gum Day! Post celebration feedback: I've never chewed so much gum in my life. My jaw hurts!

You know you work at a hoity toity school when...

...you get an email like this:

Some students are wearing hooded sweatshirts that zip over the face.  Nothing should be worn over the face inside or outside the  building.  Also, many of these sweatshirts have disturbing images on them like skeletons.  Please speak to your students about not wearing sweatshirts with these types of images and let them know that although they can wear a hood on their heads to keep them warm or protect them from the rain, that they are not to cover their faces for safety purposes (so they can see and staff can see them).  Thanks.


Really? We have time to worry about hoods? Who is complaining about this to the principal and not just handling it and moving on? That's what I want to know.

Wunny Day

-I'm having a very wunny day!
-Really? How's that?
-I keep getting all ones in this math game we're playing!
-Ahh. That does sound like a one-y day.

The Worrier

Second graders are different in many ways from the fourth graders of my past. One such way--they're apparently not afraid to share and are very trusting of their teacher. Exhibit A: A little one came up to me after recess today and I could see the tears welling. Her chin started to quiver as she told me that her parents were arguing a lot at home and they're "just thinking about each other and no one's thinking about me and I'm worried." This is when the no hugging policy is null and void in my book. Life can be hard. Anyone know how to explain that to a 7-year-old?

A New Year...A New Grade

Last year was grueling. I think I lost blogging ground after about two posts. I pretty much sold my soul for the chance to become a principal and came up short. Slowly I've been picking up the pieces--spending time working in a funky resale shop, reconnecting with those I love, and turning a significant chunk of my hair a sound shade of purple. The last part is a bit of big deal because I think I mentioned that I changed schools last year. This school is muy differente than my previous one. It's high scoring, composed of families with 2.5 kids and students I can't tell apart--Are you Sam or Fred 'cause you both have blond hair and blue eyes--and "unnaturally" colored hair is again the rules. I'm serious. It's in the handbook. Last year I did my best to fit in in the new neighborhood. This year I showed up with purple hair and I'm trying to hang on to my spunk a midst the serious stuffiness.

I'm in a second grade classroom now, learning how to downshift and teaching how to perfect the art of the elbow sneeze. I hope you'll check back often as I hope to be posting regularly during this new adventure.

All About the Hair

Day 1: Hair down = No comment.

Day 2: Ponytail = You're wearing a ponytail.

Day 3: Up in a bun = Could you please stop changing your hair so much?!

Who knew they even noticed?

The New Kid

I had a kiddo who just started school after an extended summer break today. Glad to know that school is so important. Rrrr. His birthday was a couple days ago apparently and I hastily agreed to allow for birthday treats this afternoon. They arrived in the form of naked cupcakes with a huge bowl of runny icing, a can of whipped cream, and a handful of plastic knives. No one wanted to take the cupcakes my two frosters were trying to hand off dripping icing everywhere and the birthday boy was manning the whipped cream repeatedly asking if he could squirt some right into his mouth. Somehow I managed to hold it together and get them out the door. I was also proud to have kept my grin in check when birthday boy came to me to say the frosting bowl had spilled in the paper bag he was carrying everything home in. Oops! Sorry about that, Mom.

Summer's over people!

So I've decided to launch myself into/toward the frightful word of principal-ing. I spent the summer interning at summer school, which left me with about 3 1/2 days off. I quickly began to understand the complaints of those not adhering to a luxurious school schedule.

Apparently I'm a glutton for punishment because I decided not only to take on the role of principal intern in addition to full-time teaching, but to also uproot myself and change schools entirely. I'm proud to say that my biggest screw up so far was taking my class to lunch 10 minutes late. Whoops! Really, the kids didn't seem to mind at all.

My big complaint? Smelly markers!! Crayola, really??? Did you have to do this to me? The first day of school it was, "Ohhh, smell this one! (pass) It smells like ice cream! Yum! (pass) It does smell like ice cream!" The second day of school it was me saying, "Go to the bathroom and return with a skin-colored nose, please." The third day was me saying, "I'm thinking smelly markers might be turning into 'at home' markers." Not a happy teacher, Crayola.