Hello, Summer?

Don’t let anyone kid you.  Summer vacation is NOT for the kids.  I can promise that, while the children do rather enjoy their vacation, the people who actually NEED (with some sort of psychotic desperation) the vacation are the ones who are fully grown.  The teachers.  Walk down the halls of your local elementary school and you will see what I mean.  The kids are bouncing down the hallways with more and more energy (I swear one of them is going to hit the ceiling one day), and the teachers are dragging down the hallway a little more slowly with each passing day. 

I have discovered a new best friend in the form of energy drinks, they allow me to function to the point that I can begin to attempt to function with some semblance of coherency.  I keep looking around at my kids and wondering how they are remaining within their skins.  I expect at any moment for one of them to split their skin and wriggle out like the butterflies we were raising not too long ago.  It is not unusual to see one, two, or ten of my little boys literally bouncing in their seats, or down the hallway.  One child fell smack out of his chair today.  Another was doing a backbend across his chair.  When corrected he slouched down and put his feet up on his desk.  There was the child singing to herself about being stupid (she is now doing it for attention, so I informed her she would no longer get attention from me when doing this).  There was the incident of a girl just straight up slapping a boy (granted he did rather deserve it, but still).  I got a new student less than a week ago.  He came from a school in district, but he had only been there for about a month.  Before he was at that school he was in the Philippines. He has started to settle down…now.  The second day he came he got up in the cafeteria and karate chopped the kid across from him for no apparent reason.

There was also a full out brawl (I’m talking, this fight should have been televised, and I should have sold commercial spots to make a little money) between to kids–who are not mine, but were in my room for dismissal– on Friday.  Teachers are tired.  Kids are wired.  A lot of them are also scared, nervous, and worried.  They don’t want school to be over.  School provides stability for them, and gives them unconditional love.  No matter how frustrated I get, I always make sure my kids know I love them.  I make sure they know its ok to make mistakes, and that their mistakes didn’t make me love them any less.  A lot of them don’t get that anywhere else.  A lot of them don’t even know if they will be going to my school next year.  For these kids, summer isn’t a blessing.  Summer isn’t something they look forward to.  For them, summer means they are home alone all day on an empty stomach.  It means that instead of getting two hot meals a day, they have to hope for one.  

This fear leads to a lot of them acting out.  They cannot process how they feel, and they do not know how to express their fears.  One such child, has been driving me crazy lately.  This child is one of my favorites (even though he does drive me crazy).  He came to me so far below level I didn’t think he could get anywhere near where he needed to be.  I wasn’t even sure how long I would have him, but I was determined to get him as far as I possibly could…. just in case.  Just in case he moved, and his new teacher wouldn’t work with him like I was.  When he came to me in October he had already missed 2 months of school this year.  Last year he was at 4 different schools, in 3 different districts.  He has been at 6 schools already, and he just turned seven this month.  His father was shot and killed.  He and his mother, and his brothers live in a small apartment that was completely unfurnished until my school provided them with basic "needs".  He has a true desire to learn.  He gets frustrated because he is still below level.  But now, instead of being on the level of a 2 or 3 year old developmentally, he’s at the level you would expect a first grader to come in at.  That means he has made almost 4 years worth of progress in one year.  He’s been having a rough time of it lately, though.  He’s been fighting, he’s been talking back, he’s been a handful. 

Today (after another day of not so good choices) he brought me a smooshed gift bag.  He said, "I forgot to give this to you".  I said thank you, and then opened it.  I almost started crying right then and there.  Inside the bag was a tissue paper flower.  There was also a note.  The note said, "I love you.  I love you."  It was written on a piece of notebook paper he had torn out of one of his brothers notebooks. 

That.  That is why I teach.