Let the Praise Germinate- It Might be more Powerful

This weekend my youngest son, Cooper, and I went to visit Grandma. This is my mother who lives in a nursing center in Charleston. My mother has Alzheimer's, however we all suffer from it.

Cooper and I visited Grandma and shortly sensed she needed to rest. We left and went over to Target. $15.00 and a GI Joe later, we returned to check on her and see if she was up to going out for supper. She was.

We went to dinner, but she again appeared restless so we ate and made our way toward the nursing home. On the way, we visited the drive through of Dunkin Donuts. Cooper and Grandma each ordered a donut for desert. We took them to the nursing center. After getting Grandma comfortable in her bed, Cooper began breaking out the donuts.

It is always a joy for me to watch my children when they "rise to the occasion," especially when they don't realize I'm looking. The patience and care Cooper took in getting Grandma's donut to her and enjoying his along with her made my night- not to mention Grandma's.

What a pleasure to watch my young son give my dear mother the joy of a lifetime- a simple shared donut- or was it a moment of love? I looked past the donut and reveled in the love.

I said nothing at the time, but made a point to tell Cooper of my pride and pleasure in his actions the next morning. By waiting until the next day, the impact was greater. As I finished my words, he smiled broadly, but said nothing. He didn't need a bribe, he didn't expect a treat. He acted from his heart and his inner feelings were validated and encouraged when he was not expecting it.

Next time your child does something you are proud of wait a moment- or over night. Then bring it back up with your compliments and watch what happens. You might just see this written on his/her face: "Hmm, if it matters so much Mom or Dad remembered it this morning, I should probably do it again."

Sunlight stressful? Yep, if it's bedtime.

The time change and switch to more daylight really messes with my little one. Tonight he cried when I told him it was 8:00pm. Through his tears he said, "I hate it being eight o'clock and still bright outside." Fortunately, by 8:30 the sun had disappeared and convincing him to go to bed was not as challenging as I anticipated. The key here is that I did anticipate the difficulty.

You know what helped the most? When I clued in to his distress, I didn't just shuffle him off to bed telling him it would be fine and ignoring his feelings. Instead, I took a few minutes to sit with him, get his book bag ready for school tomorrow, and read a story. After that, the move to bed time was easy.

I know as parents, we often are run by the clock and rush our children to school, sports, homework, bedtime... then do it all again. I challenge us each to slow down a bit. Take a few minutes to listen and respond to your child. Quit living by the clock. In the big scheme of things, what matters most?

Congenial or Collegial?

We're talking this month about being a member of a professional learning community. Think about what that means: "professional learning community." In every team there is a place for camaraderie, but the objective of a learning community is for teachers to work together in the spirit of growth that ultimately enhances student performance.

I have seen "teams" work from opposite ends of the spectrum and everywhere in between. In one school, I witnessed teams that were more congenial than collegial. In another school, I found teachers so wrapped in competition they could not work together.

The congenial teams were filled with teachers who had a great year building morale and enjoying each other as colleagues and friends. The enjoyment often spilled into the off hours, and there was a real sense of excitement about being at school to see each other. The problem was that students' performance was not enhanced by the relationships of the teachers.

On the other end of the spectrum, I have worked with schools that had such structured expectations of team performance that teachers dreaded going to work. The environment the administration was attempting to create actually backfired and teachers ran to their rooms to shut their doors.

What does this mean for your team? Take a good look at the way your team operates. Answer these three questions: 1. What are the goals your team works together to accomplish? (You do have established goals, don't you?) 2. How does your team spend the majority of its time together? (Does gossip take place during your team time- how much time?) 3. Do your students benefit? (How do you know?)

Your team can be successful. Take each question one by one and let your answers be your guide.

"There's pink milk today!"

Even though we had two days off this week and a two hour "snow" delay (in South Carolina, if you get a flurry you get a two hour snow delay), I actually managed to get some real teaching done in my kindergarten class. I had expected major distractions just because of all the "off" time and the excitement about "snow."

As I approached the cafeteria on Thursday, I was feeling pretty good about the lessons I had taught and the learning I supposed my children had done. I was just about to comment to my assistant how I felt and congratulate her on a job well done. I was ready for some "high-fives!" At the very same moment, I heard shouts of glee ring out from the mouths of my most astute little cherubs, "There's pink milk today!" The news spread like wild fire up and down the line I was so nobly leading to lunch. You see, "pink milk" is what they call the strawberry flavored milk that is served in our cafeteria on certain occasions. So much for all that keen teaching and learning I'd been gloating about.

These children brought me back to reality. Life isn't really all about the formal lessons we learn; it's more about how we apply them. Sure we've talked about the dairy food group and serving sizes, and nutritional values; but all they know is that today is a "pink milk day" and that's what really makes a great day.

The true test of my teaching will come one day when there's not enough pink milk for everyone. How will my children react? Will they cry? Will there be pushing and shoving to get to the milk box first? Will anyone give up their pink milk for a friend? Then later in their lives, when they're out in the "big" world, and the corporate "pink milk" is in short supply how will they react? Will my teaching today prepare my children for such an event in their futures? Only if I am truly doing my job which is to use every experience to teach a life lesson.

I've worked in several schools and in several different grade levels but I've never been more fully aware of my goal as an educator than I am in my kindergarten class.

Robert Fulghum, author of "All I Really Need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten," summed up all of life's important lessons in this list of guidelines: "Share everything. Play fair. Don't hit people. Put things back where you found them. Clean up your own mess. Don't take things that aren't yours. Say you're sorry when you hurt somebody. Wash your hands before you eat. Flush. Warm cookies and cold milk are good for you. Live a balanced life-learn some and think some and draw and paint and sing and dance and play and work every day some. Take a nap every afternoon. When you go out into the world, watch out for traffic, hold hands, and stick together. Wonder. Remember the little seed in the Styrofoam cup: The roots go down and the plant goes up and nobody really knows how or why, but we are all like that. Goldfish and hamsters and white mice and even the little seed in the Styrofoam cup-they all die. So do we. And then remember the Dick-and-Jane books and the first word you learned-the biggest word of all-LOOK."

Even when I think I've done a miraculous thing and imparted "knowledge" to my children, they remind me that the best lessons are not from the books. True learning is lived. So I rejoiced with my children, "There's pink milk today!"

Carrot, egg, or coffee? The choice is Yours.

I have been through some of the "ups and downs" of standardized testing. Some schools are intense about testing; almost bordering on putting testing above children. Other schools desire the best results, but make it known that these results will not come at the expense of the students. Interestingly, no matter at which end of the spectrum the school stands, every school I have worked in, has some form of standardized test to administer.

Comparing school to school, you find there are many factors that influence the level of anxiety felt by the teaching staff. Imagine... one school is filled with students who are struggling.The stress in that school comes as teachers agonize over how to get their students to perform well. Imagine another school filled with children who typically score well. Their problem is certainly not performance: their stress comes from a lack of "growth" as measured year-to-year.

In my state, part of our overall school rating comes from that growth measurement. As it becomes increasingly difficult to show growth, you can be sure that anxiety level is soaring to new heights. So keep in mind, every teacher and school faces unique accountability challenges.

You have a personal decision to make; how will you deal with the stress that is surely coming your way?

Imagine high stakes testing being a cauldron of boiling water. You are being thrust into that water: you're either a carrot, an egg, or coffee. Your choice!

Some teachers are like the carrot: when they are in the boiling water, thy go soft and lose much of their passion for educating young people. They allow themselves to wallow in the "agony of defeat." That is not my choice.

How about the egg? When it boils, it develops a hard exterior shell. Will you allow the pressures of your job to cause you to become hard and calloused toward the children you teach? Another poor choice.

Or, you could choose to be like coffee beans which, when boiled, change the water. They transform it into coffee: warm, inviting, and invigorating. These are our choices.

For me: let me be the teacher who is warm toward her students - even when the job is boiling hot. Let me be inviting to my colleagues and to my parents as partners. Finally, let me be invigorated by the challenges set forth by my profession.

The choice has been mine to make for over a decade. Whether you have been teaching one year or forty, you are faced daily with the choice to respond.

Perhaps you have other waters that boil for you. This issue is devoted to testing, but the theory applies to any aspect of your personal and professional life. The most important decision you will make is the decision of how to react.

I hope you will be inclined to be coffee. And if so, I hope you will be the Maxwell House of coffees: "Good to the last drop."

The gift of Kindergarten

My heart sank as I watched her struggle to blow out six little candles. The breath would not come easily. She inhaled and blew as best she could, but the real candles on her fake birthday cake would not relent. The fire continued to burn as she drew another breath and tried again. After multiple attempts, the candles were finally extinguished.

Moments after the celebration of one of my kindergartner's birthday, I made my way to the phone to share my observation with this child's mom. I relayed the scene which prompted the child's mother to arrange a doctor's appointment. Days later the confirmation came. Yes, she did have asthma and was given a daily inhaler and other treatments.

This is the gift of kindergarten: making a lifetime difference for one who is on the threshold of life itself.

Of course, I would never wish asthma, or any of the other problems I've encountered in the classroom, on anyone; but out of those problems have come some of my greatest opportunitites. Being able to recognize a problem and encourage a parent to take action to correct it is a true blessing in my life, as well as theirs. Sometimes, when I feel down after a lousy day, I reflect on times such as this; when I've talked straight to a parent and seen a positive change made for one of my children. It doesn't take long for my "lousy-day blues" to go away.

Sure, some of this will happen in the upper elementary grades and beyond, but my experience in kindergarten has shown me that an awful lot of gate-keeping takes place at this juncture. We weed through issues ranging from eye glasses to hearing aids, ADD to processing disorders, emotional traumas to a little insecurity; all in the midst of teaching letters, sounds, numbers, and reading.

Every teacher has a role to play in developing young people. Each one of us will make a difference in the lives of our students. Our combined efforts, over time, will determine to a great degree how these children will grow into adults. Each teacher must determine the grade or age level in which they are gifted to make the most impact. As for me, the best gift I can give as a teacher is actually the one I have received: the gift of kindergarten.

"I miss my mommy"

Tears streamed silently down his face and mucous darted in and out of his nose as he sniffed. I motioned to him to come to me. He did. When I asked him what was wrong he tearfully told me, "I miss my mommy." I told him I missed my mommy too and asked if he would give me a mommy hug. He threw his arms around my waist and I hugged him back tightly.

Kindergarten can be a scary place on the first day. Sure the room is bright and interesting, but it can also be overwhelming. No amount of crayons, blocks, computers, books etc. can take the place of a mommy's love. Leaving home for the first time- or maybe any time - can be sad and scary.

After a moment's embrace, I told this little fellow his mommy would be sad if she knew he were crying. He agreed that he did not want his mommy to be sad. He dried up his tears. I gently took his face in my hands, looked him deep in his eyes and told him we would both be okay. He cracked a slight smile and made his way back to his table spot.

We made it through the day. Not completely tear free, but each time a tear came I responded the way I felt deep inside. I understand missing your mommy. I'm almost 40 years old, but I understand. I miss my mommy because she suffers from Alzheimer's disease.

It is a terrible disease that only those with loved ones suffering from it can truly understand. Others may be sympathetic, but until you experience the disease up close you can not imagine it. It is what makes me empathize with those children who cry for their mommies on the first, second, and even third day of kindergarten.

The children in my class will not know why I relate to them. The reason is not important to them. The only thing that matters is that when I hug them they sense my sincerity and understanding of their fears. The difference between us is that at the end of the day they will fall into the arms of the mothers they love. I will go home to the stark reminder that the passing day takes with it another piece of my mother. I know this difference, they don't need to. They only need to know that when tears shed for mothers stream down their faces I will give the hug that says without words, "I understand."