Way back when I was a new teacher, there was a mom who was mad at me… very mad at me. This was my second year teaching, I think, and my first year in sixth grade.

25 years later and my memory is a bit hazy, but I think I remember enough. Her daughter was in student council, and once a week or so she would miss the first part of homeroom. She would miss the start, or maybe the end of our daily journal writing. Even though part of being on student council was the understanding that you would need to make up missed work, she had a hard time finishing those half page journal assignments.

I guess she earned a B on the journal assignment one marking period. If my memory serves…

Mom was mad.

She said, “My daughter is a great writer. She doesn’t need to do these assignments.”

She said, “My daughter is in student government. She doesn’t need to do these assignments.”

She said, “My daughter doesn’t get B’s.”

I don’t know if this was one phone call or three. I don’t remember if there were meetings, or if there were emails. I mean, there was email, like email was a thing… But not as much email. Maybe there was a hand written note from home!

I do know that the teacher across the hall, my mentor and friend Mardi helped me through this tricky situation. (And many more situations after this.)

She told me that sometimes you just have to ask, “What would you like me to do? What grade would you like your child to have?”

It doesn’t solve every issue, or every miscommunication. but, it does give pause.

I’m supposed to be a thermostat, not a thermometer.
Set the tone.
Co-regulate.
Be the change.

This morning in morning meeting my student teacher asks the kids to share their favorite sweet treat.

“Well…” someone starts to ask before we can begin, “can it be ice cream?”

Yes. Yes, it can be ice cream.

The kids start sharing around the circle and then someone interrupts.

“Can I choose tic tacs?”

Sure. Tic tacs. Why not?

More kids than you might think choose tic tacs as their favorite sweet treat.

The day goes by in a whirlwind of sweet learning and behavior reminders.

So many reminders.

Two outdoor recesses — phew.

At the end of the day we start talking about honesty.

“Is this because of the ball playing on the playground?” someone blurts out.

“No, she planned this lesson!”

The truth is, I am frustrated… by behavior and the tone of our community. But, I had already planned our lesson on honesty, I just need to tweak it a bit for the start of some restorative conversations.

I just need to set the tone.
Be a thermostat.

“Why is it important to be honest?” I ask them.

The kids share a lot about how if you aren’t honest then people can’t trust you.

“Yea. Like, if you say that you got a really great cake at… at… at… McDonalds,” someone starts.

“They don’t have cake at McDonalds!” a few kids exclaim.

I tell her to keep going, and she adds, “and then they go to McDonalds because they want to get a really great cake. But they get there and McDonalds tells them they don’t have cake! Now they won’t ever trust you.”

“Oh!” The kids who had judged so quickly realize that McDonald’s not having cake is the whole point.

Someone else tells another story about lying about something you could or couldn’t buy. I wonder why this is such a popular example in second grade. Have they had a lot of people recommend buying something that isn’t available or good?

Soon we move on, thank goodness.

The actual lesson is more about being honest with yourself about the strengths you have.

This is the tone I’m looking for… strengths! What you focus on grows. Let’s focus on our strengths! My lesson plan asks me to share some of my strengths with my class.

“One of my strengths is that I am kind,” I say, and a bunch of kids nod.

“I also know a lot about —-“

“Kids!” Someone interrupts.

“I know a lot about teaching,” I correct before asking them about their strengths.

“Gymnastics!”
“Football!”
”Ice skating!”

They are doing surprisingly well at talking about their strengths. Sometimes this is hard for kids.

But I am co-regulating, focusing on our strengths, setting a tone.

At least, I am trying. But it isn’t easy. Someone has a sweatshirt over his head, our average interuption rate is as high as ever, fidgets are being used as toys instead of tools.

Then, someone starts spitting up vanilla wafer water, and says, “I don’t even know what this is!”

“It’s probably water.” a classmate explains, and I tell her to go wash up.

“What other strengths do you have as a super power?” I ask the class.

“I’m really good at trash talking,” one of the kids says.

“I’m not sure that’s the kind of strength that is like a super power,” I explain.

“You really are good at trash talking,” someone says.

Two kids are still distracted by a fidget I asked them to put away at the start of a lesson, there are pockets of kids who, honestly, aren’t engaged in the conversation.

So, I call it. We pause the lesson, go back to our desks, and just sit in silence for a few minutes to end our day.

After school I had an electrician come to finish fixing my actual thermostat.
Now it will kick on the emergency heat gas furnace when it’s too cold for the heat pump, when the heat pump is working too hard.

And long story short, I’m wondering if my thermostat has an emergency switch for my brain. . .

You know, for when I’m working too hard.

There are leaves crumbling all over the tabletop
and I love it
but
this morning I balanced a box of capybara squishies
as my coffee dripped all over the top of my lunchbox
just so I could swipe my ID, open a door —
but
I love it

Teaching is an odd thing to do with your time
today I told someone to stop talking about milk
so they could finish their breakfast of apple juice poured on cinnamon Chex
The things you never even thought of to think you’d never say, you know?
One year I had to tell my sixth graders that we do not form cults in middle school
So far, there have been no talk of cults in second grade.
Instead we talk a lot about Star Behavior—
but
I love it.

Today I had to stop science because too many 7 and 8 year olds yelled,
“It’s a magnet!” And ruined the
aha!
for half the class.
We had a
short
class meeting where we talked about the
big
feelings we had from not getting to figure things out ourselves, and I reminded them that we all make mistakes, no need to say
“Thanks a lot!” to friends in a way that means
everything but
thank you.
After that we celebrated finishing our read aloud
I handed out capybara squishies
to a chorus of “You’re the best teacher ever.”
and we lined up to go home

Awhile later as I was leaving my classroom
I passed our community art table
and saw that the leaves were still crumbling all over the tabletop
but more were glued in place
a scene was starting to be set
I hope it is a metaphor
and
I love it.

Did I tell you about the other day? My student teacher planned to plan a little during lunch.

So with 10 minutes left before the kids came back, I asked him if he wanted to look at the lesson.

He said he would in just a bit. “Sometimes I need to prioritize my sanity,” he said. Which is I think is the new lingo for self care. And then he started to add something to his explanation that has now become my favorite quote of the year.

“Sometimes I need to prioritize my sanity, which is something I know you …” his voiced trailed off a bit, and I started laughing as he continued “is something I know you don’t always do…”

Point taken.

Writing workshop time has started, and I have a few kids who have decided they’d like to work at my table. It’s my favorite, actually, this choice small group time. It feels like a luxury, as my student teacher is doing the heavy lifting of the mini lesson and the management.

“Ms. Gabriel, her coach’s name is Mr. Pickles,” One writer tells me. She’s writing about Lucy, who daydreams about swimming lessons, but she isn’t allowed to take them.

“Oh my goodness,” I say. “I hope you labeled that somewhere so you remember. It’s perfect!”

In front of me another writer, often reluctant, is writing up a storm. She pauses and says to me, “I’m writing some words big, but you won’t know why until the end.” Then she keeps writing. She wants me to start a timer to see how much she can write in ten minutes. Another student lets me know that sometimes timers distract her. We put the timer facing just the student who needs it.

“Is the Ms. Gabriel table open?” Someone asks

One of the writers already at the table answers for me, “Yes. And it isn’t any dollars today.”

Another writer walks up to the table and asks, “Ms. Gabriel, how do you spell screaming?”

“Screaming?” I ask. “Is this going to be a very very scary story? Too scary for me to read?”

She laughs and tells me, “No. She is going to open a present and scream because she’s so excited.”

I ask her to try writing the word on a sticky note and then I will check it. She gets it almost right, and we talk about the r sound in there, and also how the vowel team is an ea.

“Ms. Gabriel, can I have a sticky note?” a writer asks me. I tell her the sticky notes are in our student teacher’s hands. He’s standing right by and hands her a sticky note.

We talk for a minute, my student teacher and I, about what we should do next. How much time do the kids need for finishing this part of building their stories? He’s wondering about the kids who aren’t done with the part we did yesterday. I tell him that this is the amount of difference that I would expect in our workshop.

“As long as you think that the amount of people who are still working is okay —-“ he says.

“Absolutely.” I say, and we plan to keep working on Friday and next week, adding in dialogue details on Tuesday.

The writer’s timer goes off, and she looks down at how much she has written.

“You’ve written so much!” I say. “And class isn’t even over yet. You still have more time.”

Somehow, a few more students have joined the table and we have to do a little problem solving to fit everyone in.

My student teacher gives a heads up about the time we have left. I give a compliment to all the writers in the room. It’s my favorite kind of mid workshop teaching point. “I see so many writers labeling, adding details, using all kinds of sticky notes. . . What an amazing writing time! You should be feeling very proud.” Not only have I complimented some specific things, but I’ve also sneaky-style given some ideas for those writers who have forgotten the goals of the day.

My para, from her table across the room says, “We agree over at this table!” Students start writing again.

One of the writers who recently sat at my table, gives me some advice about my own story about a clumsy rock skipper. “If he gets a prize for doing the rock skipping, he’s going to drop that too!”

I’m so excited about his idea, the whole table is.

So now I have another teaching point.

“Now as a writer, what should I do? I am not at the end yet” I say, pointing to my sticky note story building. “How can I remember this?”

It’s unanimous. The writers at my table tell me I’m going to need to write that down — on a sticky note.